Best Surf Poems
the beach’ll be a blast
of sand and surf
relax,
of surf and sun
enhance.
the ebb and flow,
a slow
down swish
of flow and romance.
the embrace
of salty air,
that we share,
and seaside beat
of gulls and feet.
a splash
of feet and hands
forming castles
that retreat,
with each push and pull
of the seashell
adorning,
ocean core.
a retreat,
seaside beat,
hot in sun,
a breezy-beachy blast
of romance,
complete with clinking
hurricane glass.
paradise of piña coladas
and sunny smiles
under attentive palms.
back in the sea,
the swish of waterfalls -
plenteous and frothing.
marvelous
enchantment
of vertiginous
waves pulling
me away
from the shore…
5/2/2022
fo'c·'sle /'fohksel/ noun deriv: forecastle
1. the forward part of a ship below the deck, traditionally used as the crew's living quarters.
2. historical: a raised deck at the front of a ship.
With the equinox illuminating a fortnight of recovery
On pelts spread like Ionian jars left askew,
My flame-keep sparked alight against the doldrums of
Greed. Stagnant and fetid.
My bark beats out a call stretched
Skin-tight over the sea’s virgin core
And sets trust aflame.
Ashes collected into the collated casks and
Corked with animus, Moon Girl pounded on.
Drumming a dirge on the tanner's own flesh.
Pounding the seed of echoing hope.
Pounding the corpus beat of life anew.
Those echoed my own harmony and emptied my ears.
My tunes would now be true and crisp.
My struggle to syncopate the middle eight
Was like on the saltchuck the time before.
Before we crossed the bar,
Breakers chasing, pounding aft of stern.
Now in the glow of the coal oil lamp
Sat The Dane who came to trade.
He mumbled a Chinookian curse and winced.
He sensed my mariner's cred, how I lit my smoke;
Muscle memory and addiction married in my subconscious.
But His eyes would never sense the venomous flow
Of the seabreak distant,
Like hounds baying to the highway of stars
And up to the dunes ran with phosphorescent faces
Fermenting the blackness.
Hell-hounds bounding.
Lungs pounding.
Driving on.
River may lick Disappointment’s shanks
But Drake’s gold remains unfound.
The cavities carved along the capes
Echo an emptied ethos and sapped spirit
Which salal and sage cannot clense.
Walk with me now Sister Ilchee.
Beat your dirge
Along the pock-marked ports of plunder
Laid before the flattened corpse of
Ebbing freedom found.
Into the wake of waves he rides.
The surfer glides like bird in flight.
He slips, gets up, head on collides,
into the wake of waves he rides.
His graceful dance with winds and tides
shows love for ocean at first sight.
Into the wake of waves he rides;
the surfer glides like bird in flight.
29 May 2015
For Andrea Dietrich's Lovely Summer Triolet Contest
The sounds of the surf
From their fluid dynamics
Wind generated waves
Worldwide panoramic
Capillary waves
Chorused and light
Charming all shores
Touching delight
Swells of the seas
In cacophony of crash
Waves in watery meet
Like a guitar solo by Slash
Every so often
The rogue wave hits home
Tsunami, the wall
In kettle drum drone
The breaking wave
As two waters meet
The sound of their notes in collision
Like Neil Peart's drum beat
Shallow water waves
Boussinesq equations
Frequency dispersions
Like Rock's best creations
As the waves hit our shores
Wave shoaling, refraction
The applause as they meet
The Rolling Stone's satisfaction
The sound of the surf's rock
It's just like music to me
They achieve various notes
Like the Kink's " Set me Free "
I enjoyed Sara Kendrick's poem " Sounds of the Surf "
So i took up her challenge. My poem has Rock and Scientific tones.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature.php
Flute is blown by the wind
Hollow sound long and thin
Picks up blowing, blowing all around
Flute now plays a higher sound
Fog or appartion slowly moves
On the cymbals really grooves
Soft and low is the sound
Gently, softly floats all around
Wind picks up, palm trees sass shea
Storm is surely on its way
Palm trees bend and begin to sway
Faster, harder symbols play
Bass drum adds its booms
As the storm really zooms
Violins warning of their doom
Sounds that are totally gloom
Storm is gone the flute's return
Soft and low hums surf's churn
Surf is calling with its sounds
Come, come dance around
(I challenge anyone to write their verison of sounds of the surf)
loose, lacy, white - a flowing blouse
the muse left clues in green-gray eyes
an outlier near the lighthouse-ocean
the seabreeze salty and windswept
foreshadowing of quill and paper
before she knew what to say
before the euphoria of surf
leapt up and touched her fingertips
before she learned to grasp
shadows and shapes, beyond the pale
moon and muted sun
dandelion seeds and towering
sunflowers kissed the blue sky
she’s a mere child, shy and unseen
seeded by the realm of poets
that came before her
the unknowns with journals
antique paper with vanishing ink
the poets with landscapes
that look out of their lighthouses
and see potential
perspicuity, peculiarity
themselves as a child
and open the window
let the little girl get a taste
of ebb and flow, pen and ink
The Surf And The Snow Meet
The surf and snow reluctantly
decided to meet.
A strange combination yet a
knockout Holiday treat.
No more, the man in the red suit
stuck in chimneys would they be
forced to greet.
Thus, they went on their merry
way.
High-five-ing it all the way.
Sipping Mai-Tai's, so ebullient,not
to see that rusty old sleigh!
And shouting, "Ole!"
December 24, 2019
Mother Ocean please
Send me waves of such beauty
I need Therapy
Dedicated to my Dad on Father's Day 2013
The man who introduced me to the ocean and educated me about it and gave me reason to love appreciate and respect it.
The sapphire surf is a lover
and few can deny her a kiss
that under her bosom hover.
The sapphire surf is a lover
and once lured beneath her cover,
she swallows you in her abyss.
The sapphire surf is a lover
and few can deny her a kiss.
05/27/15
Submission for ONE LOVELY SUMMER TRIOLET
Hosted by: Andrea Dietrich
From out the swirling surf
he plucked a maiden fair, and in distress,
whose innocence intrigued him so
that he could not confess in speech,
articulate her loveliness.
He took her to his breast and blessed her,
held her close, and quieted her fears;
it was as if she knew him well,
such recognition in her eyes,
as joy and peace didst dry away her tears.
They joined in union, enjoyed
the purest of all sacraments,
unsullied by lascivious display.
They blended, as a tree blends with the sky,
a fusion of the elements.
He was Poseidon, she a wayward naiad,
protected by his gentle touch,
a helpless waif in need of solace,
he the providence that calmed her,
proffered bliss she craved so much.
They were lovers found in time,
wanderers who claimed a home,
dreamers courting paradise,
bound together now as one
and sanctified, no more to roam.
Surf’s up,
Heads are down,
Timing their move,
Concentrated frown,
Salt lips,
Hard swallow,
Adrenalin pumping,
There is no tomorrow,
The white horses charge,
Their chariots follow,
Surfing speeding waves,
Above a spray crested hollow,
For just a few seconds,
Taming the waves,
Anticipating the way
That nature behaves,
With triumphant abandon,
And balance supreme,
Living the moment,
Living the dream …
**In this short poem I pay my tribute to all those gallant surf riders out there on the sea !
THE SURF RIDER !
See him riding gallantly the crest of
waves,
With dexterity and poise and flowing
grace!
With his wakeboard he rises to fall, -
to rise once more!
As the waves keep rolling towards the
shore.
Like those surfs the rider continues his
undulating dance,
Be it in England, in Spain or in France !
Riding high on waves as if in a trance!
He did take time to perfect his art,
Having loved the sea and the surf from the
start!
He lives in moments just like those waves,
Floating on their crests as the blood within
raves !
Those surf make music as they rise and
fall,
Where some surfs are short and others tall!
Like a philharmonic conductor par excellence,
He commands those waves with his skilful
presence!
Riding on Time’s moments is no mean art,
But like our surf rider one must make a
gallant start!
-Raj Nandy
New Delhi
Great White Sharks are a Gold Coast wonder
Though crocodiles may steal their thunder
But all surfers know
It is time to go
When kangaroos line up Down Under
Big Surf
Blue
ocean
waves
waxing
down surfboard
out shine!
Time
to load
up woody
wagon make tracks.
Checking out
sandy
beach
big surf
what a gas!
Walk the
board
control
waves.
By: Eve Roper 6/13/2015
Contest Name: Shall We Waltz?
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Ten words ten lines 2-Big Surf Competition
After a long ennui of big wave competitions
surfers take to Oahu's North Shore "to go for baroque."
For these bonafide big wave riders hanging ten
is party time, cake frosted with elan and deju vu.
Waves peaking it's face into the eyes of the brave,
with carte blanche of fifty footers, part of the sugar.
All eye candy are on the Hawaiians, lipping alley-opps on the curls,
showcasing avante-garde to the diletttante's and spectators.
As waves keep pounding the shore to the cacophony of applause,
to tats, tongs and tans, big wave riders take to this anomaly waving.
Anomaly
Avant-garde
Baroque
Bona fide
Cacophony
Carte blanche
Deja vu
Dilettante
Elan
Ennui
connie pachecho
1/20/18