Tell me, muse, of the boy who dared to brave the wrath of Poseidon, the boy of the porgy fish,Who nearly abandoned hope of catching a fish in the fish-filled Port of Jefferson.Departing at the break of dawn, he bravely embarked on the large boat, Celtic Quest,In hopes to find his dinner, but to see that the trade of fishing is not one to be taken lightly.He waits, anxiously, for a hint of a fish pulling at his bait, while watching his comradesprosper with the gifts of the deathless sea god, seeking the same glory from Poseidon.As the hours pass, our hero casts his line again, with the sun nigh over head, and his    journey nearing the end. Tell the tale for us, muse, of the boy who had cast his line a third time,Who waited for a gift from the earth-shaking Poseidon. Who, without training, chose to try the sport.While the fervor of fishing begins to ascend, and while the fish begin to bite, While others excelled, he did none but persevere. Who, on the third cast felt a minute pull and grasped for his reel,Praying to Poseidon to finally grant his wish, to give him his sole desire from the sea,Glory. Sweet, everlasting glory. Tell us, muse, of the tale, starting when the sun’s first rays meet the land,And ending with the hero’s return with a smug grin upon his sea-toiled face.

NOTE: This is MY poem. Copying any or all of this poem and taking it as your own is PLAGIARISM.