Fly Fishing: The River Knows by Christopher Puddy

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Today, we’re pleased and honored to bring you an inspirational work of fly fishing alliterative verse by Christopher Puddy. Christopher’s an amazing poetry writer, author, professor and loyal Gink & Gasoline fan. Puddy’s work, “The River Knows” is his take on man’s connection with nature. He uses imagery of outdoor landscapes, flowing water and fly fishing to show how these environments and activities help man connect with his primal self. 

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Alliterative verse, it’s a form of verse that uses alliteration as the principle structuring device to unify lines of poetry, as opposed to other devices such as rhyme and syllables.

Photo Louis Cahill

“The River Knows” by Christopher Puddy. Photo By: Louis Cahill

The River Knows 

Though these ligaments lament the rueful rigors of this trying trek
And my muscles moan as I creepingly crest
The humbling hills which ruggedly ring
The bouldered basin of that verdant valley
Where I with rustic rod and lethal lures will daily do
Bitter battle with the spiteful spirit of this roaring river,
I now know that these piercing pains
Are but the promising prelude to a rapturous revelation
Whose most treasured truths are fatefully found
Within the mystical might of the wondrous waters in which I wistfully wade.

And even as my modernistic mind carefully catalogs
The unbounded beauty of these mesmerizing marvels
Whose mantic mystery secretly suffuses
Every solemn sanctum in this sylvan scene,
I am lately left to purely ponder
The uncanny curvature of those startling stones
Over which a skittish school of minnows moil,
For in this sacred setting have I momentarily mastered
The rhythmical roll of these complicated casts
Which torturously test the laughable limits of my pitiful patience
To such a dangerous degree that all the wider world
Is rapidly reduced to the sorcerous size of one magical molecule
Whose daunting detonation spectrally sparks
The festal fire of our incredible creation.

And the freezing froth of these restless rapids
Whose taming torrents suddenly surge
Towards the towering terminus of killing cataracts
Sometimes seem to tranquilly transmit
The nebulous nuances of a muddled message
From the lulling lassitude of these radiant rindles
Where deer dance in puzzling patterns,
Their bodies bending to the supernatural sounds of this wildling weald
As they freely frolic amongst the leafy luxury of mottled maples
Whose fragrant fragments curiously camouflage
The ruined relics of all those trampled tribes
Who once stealthily stalked these feral forests
And in their pensive passing dreamily dropped
The sanguinary souvenirs of their hallowed hunt
So that after several centuries of dark decrepitude
I might luckily locate these primitive prizes
Partially poking through the sepia soil,
Their piceous pageantry silently summoning
The shadowy shades of the saintly Sioux
Whose battered bones are balefully buried
Beneath this petrous pier from which I faithfully fish.

And as this dazzling day which the creator crafted
Finally fades to blissful black,
I fortunately find that the ponderous pouch
Into which I placidly place my cunning catch
Hangs heavy on my shuddering shoulder
As I knowingly navigate those purpling passes
Through which the setting sun so shockingly shines.

And If I could hopefully have my willful way
I would lightly lay my hollow heart
Amongst the riven rocks and ravaged roots of these graceful groves
And in a static state of numb narcosis
Unconsciously commune with this legendary land
So that after the deadening durance of dismal decades
I might passively ponder the skillful sculpture of the fading firmament
Until the fluid flow of tedious time somberly ceases
And a purifying peace sighingly settles
Over the radioactive remnants of this wounded world.

If you enjoyed the poetry today, written by Christopher Puddy, please take a minute to purchase one or more of his other Alliterative verse books of published poetry, over at Thank you Christopher Puddy for providing Gink & Gasoline with this exclusive piece today. It was an honor to showcase your work and we thoroughly enjoyed you taking us all on a poetic journey, allowing us to better understand the connection we have with our outdoor passions and primal self.


Keep it Reel,

Come fish with us in the Bahamas!

Kent Klewein
Gink & Gasoline
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11 thoughts on “Fly Fishing: The River Knows by Christopher Puddy

  1. I had no knowledge of this style of poetry. After looking up the definition of the word “alliterate,” I immersed myself in Puddy’s latest poem. Enjoyed it immensely!

    • Kruthie,

      I recently learned of this style myself. Best read at a slow steady pace and concentrating on visualizing and contemplating the meaning of the words. Every time I read it, I enjoy it more and I i’m able to paint a clearer picture of Puddy’s words.


  2. What is it I search and seek in this river?
    I come back, walking trough the tangles and thorns that line its banks.
    Snaring and pricking, they hold back my desires.
    With belief and determination, I will soon be there casting.
    Even when my feet reach the edgewaters, It is not an easy walk.
    With slippery rocks that trip and bruse, I use my staff that guides me.
    I am comforted by the gentle cool breeze on my face that reassures.
    What is it I long and look for in this river?
    Its waters so clear that flow strong in one direction.
    Even though its tumbling waters are turbulent and loud, it is a quiet place.
    A quiet place of peace that only a Perfect Creator could have made.

    These are word inspired by God who filled my hollow heart and made it whole. This is the first time I have shared this as I am not a poet, but I feel I should share it with all of you. All glory to God Almighty.

  3. Really cool, and a joy to read. Being able to relate with the author, and the subject matter within the poem makes it that much more fun to read. I don’t think I’ve read an alliterative verse before today either. The alliteration really makes the poem flow, almost like a river….Steady, constant, beautiful, and without a hitch. Its like alliterative verse was meant to tell the stories of fishermen. Thanks for sharing!

  4. Carefully I crept, quietly concentrating
    on the nose rising ‘neath the bent bough
    my line whispered as it wafted toward the target
    then Bam! Buried in another fucking branch! 😉

    Great job Mr. Puddy!

  5. Pingback: Poetry: “The River Knows” | MidCurrent

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