The Fisherman Poem by Alexander Thomas

Pensively I cast my line,
Adrift in a stream of thought,
Fishing to catch a rhyme,
With patience it will be caught.

Standing in squelching wellies,
Body floating above the clouds,
Eyes bulging like pregnant bellies,
Peering at what mystery shrouds.

Beneath reflection shapes blurred,
Heaving and taming stubborn prose,
But here and there a word,
And an elusive sentence flows.

And if I were to lose my feet,
Imagination running as a river,
Many characters I would meet,
That in murky waters slither.

Over a waterfall down a hole,
Into the depths and out to the ocean,
Words swimming like fish in a shoal,
On the currents of sweet emotion.