Paul Willason Poet Free verse

The Wave

Way out,
a wave starts its run
on a lifting swell then
builds to a peak 
until it crests 
holding cobra like
high in air, falls 
to gravity, folds over 
in a thunder of bubbles 
to become a wash 
running up a beach, 
expiring in a lick
of froth to tickle
little feet.

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Charlotte Puddifoot June 27, 2025 at 5:11 AM vivid image of a wave, "cobra like" effective description - they do look like that - and a cute ending :) many thx for your understanding commentary on my poem Paul Willason June 28, 2025 at 4:30 PM Thankyou Charlotte for your comments...appreciated...also the mention of mine on your powerful poem. Take care, Paul

Jeanette Swan June 25, 2025 at 6:02 AM So much to see in this wave! The cobra image is just so right... but it is an illusion that folds up. into ripples that tickle (on this occasion). I so agree with DD - the cute factor tickled me too. I love how little kids play with water at the beach as if it is a character, not the scenery. J :) Paul Willason June 26, 2025 at 2:44 PM Hi Jeanette, much appreciate your comments, your time taking in the Wave. Each are unique in a way but all suffer a final fate in froth...so much better if there are little feet there to give purpose. Thankyou, Paul