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A Poem of Hunting, Fishing, and a Truck

Hunting, Fishing and my Truck

I throw my gun in the back of my truck
With it I hope to kill a 12-point buck
While in the woods, BANG! I see the deer fall
I take him home, freeze the meat, and mount his horns on my wall

I grab my pole and tackle box and head to the lake
At this time in the morning, I feel barely awake
There is no school today, I’m glad there is no class
A mighty tug on my line, I hook a large mouth bass

There is nothing like hunting; waiting for the kill
Cutting and cleaning the meat my freezer I’ll soon fill
Deer steaks and deer jerky have such a great taste
And with his head on my wall nothing goes to waste

I like fishing, fishing is fun
Fishing underneath the rising sun
I like catching the fish and putting them in a net
Fish is a great dish when the table is set

My truck is unstoppable; it can’t beat
I slam the door and strap myself in the seat
I start the engine and press the gas to the floor
My truck takes off and my engine lets out a roar

I wouldn’t be able to hunt or fish if it wasn’t for my truck
With it I carry poles, guns, and my fallen buck
I pull my boat with my truck in four-wheel-drive
At my destination I always arrive


Glaedr the poet

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