A Fishing Tale
—24 November 2025
Young Jeffrey oft went fishing with his dad
Sometimes for perch but oftener for shad.
When spawning shad were running wild upstream
To catch one, two, or three was Jeffrey’s dream.
Jeff’s daddy drove his boat upstream and down
They trolled and brought a shad or two around.
While in their interludes they chewed their food
And drank their drinks with tranquil attitude.
Jeff’s daddy had a modicum of hair.
One day without his hat in late spring air,
While trolling in our trusted fishing zone
His head turned red instead of ivory-tone.
Young Jeffrey deemed his daddy’s sunburnt dome
A hoot. He giggled at his dad’s genome
Devoid of care for daddy’s lack of hair.
But daddy deemed it not a fun affair.
Thereafter Jeffrey grew up like his dad.
One day when fishing, wishing he had had
His noggin shrouded from the sun’s purview,
His fate then turned his pate a scarlet hue.
Jeff Kemper has been a biology teacher, biblical studies instructor, editor, and painting contractor. He lives in York County, Pennsylvania.
This has all the hallmarks of a personal poem. Karma is a strange, fateful intruder
Indeed. I lost my hair while in college and freaked out. But I soon learned to joke about being bald. One must accept the hand life deals him.
It’s a nice little revenge poem, or an instance of the old saying that “What goes around, comes around.” Blake wrote an excellent short poem titled “The Poison Tree,” where the speaker takes pleasure in repressing his anger against an enemy, by allowing it to grow into a tool of killing.
I recall a Renaissance emblem composed of an engraving of a human skull, with this motto underneath it: “Quod sum, tu quoque eris.” (What I am, you also will be.)
Thanks for your kind words. And thanks for the Blake reference. I hadn’t read the poem yet.
I love your poem, with its humor and ironic ending twist.
Thanks Cheryl. Glad you enjoyed it.
Though I liked this poem, it turns out that a man’s hair pattern in later life is inherited from his maternal grandfather, not his father. Of course, it’s always possible that one’s father’s genes for this trait match those carried in one’s mother’s extra X chromosome.
C.B., I’m glad you liked the poem. Yes, I’m aware of the genetics of loss of hair. The point was only that my dad’s sunburnt head that I thought funny in my youth, happened also to me.
A fun ‘fishing’ tale, with a cheery rhythm, internal rhyme, and lashings of humour.
Who could ask for more?
Thanks, Paul. Glad you enjoyed it.
Fun poem, Jeff, suggesting the value of good-humored sympathy, as well as the worth of one of those crazy hats so many fishermen take care to wear.
Thanks, Margaret! When undesirable things happen to us, we may as well joke about them.