Long Surfboards Poems
Long Surfboards Poems. Below are the most popular long Surfboards by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Surfboards poems by poem length and keyword.
On the bluffs above the Lorelei Rock,
Overlooking the Rhine River near Bingen,
Is the Lorelei Ampitheater.
While stationed in West Germany,
Towards the end of the Cold War,
I saw there an awesome concert.
The main band was one of my favorite bands--
Possibly the best band America ever produced
(The only band that ever gave the Beatles any competition anyway).
Cheerleaders from the University of Nevada Las Vegas
Strutted and danced on stage
In uniforms, sarongs, and bikinis.
Rain didn't stop the show or discourage the spectators.
A significant percentage of the audience were young people,
Who liked the songs their parents treasured--
Songs about hot rods, love, and surfboards.
The song of the beautiful Lorelei below
Harmonized with the California sound above.
What a place to find much-needed peace of mind,
to cast all nagging woes of the day aside.
This is the place to be; such an ideal place...
right by the shoreline.
I actively listened with my eyes sealed shut
as the wind took turns whistling and speaking
in whispers, revealing its long-held secrets...
ones I'll never share!
Hermit crabs were crawling about the wet sand.
Great White Egrets were feeding in the shallows.
I watched the waves splash against the jagged rocks....
as I looked for shells.
Avid surfers were gliding on their surfboards
Children on the beach were building sandcastles;
the bright midday sun reflected off the tides...
I dreamt of the sea!
Submitted for...
Your Best Sapphic Stanza Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
Date submitted: 08/21/2021
Submitted for...
BRIAN'S CHOICE W,any form,any theme poetry contest
Contest Judged: 5/27/2020 (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date written: 05/26/2020
New Shoes
"Grandpa, my shoes are too small,
or maybe my feet or too big?"
"You are going to be ten foot tall,
if you don't stop growing..." was his answer.
I peered at my feet. "What to do?
I need a new shoe, one for this one,
one for that one, together my old ones,
will not be enough".
I sighed.
My story continued... "My big toe sticks out,
and there is no way to shout it back in!"
I grin. "Papa, I need new shoes again."
I sighed.
"I can not stop my feet.
They get bigger in the night, when I go to sleep.
When I wake they are both larger than a cake,
so I make for the door, to go to the beach...
and swim on my own surfboards.
It is wonderful.
But going to the beach is fun for a while,
and I need to style my way, back to school.
Grandpa, my shoes are too small."
I sighed.
Grandpa smiled. "Get in the truck."
As we walk along the beach in Honolulu the sand welcomes are feet
The warm sun and the gentle trade winds are a combo not to be beat
The waves brush up against the shore then offer a hasty retreat
A kite surfer floats across the water looking so very elite
Surfboards with those tanned riders come rushing in
In an effort to impress those bikini-clad ladies they hand their trying to win
Tonight the feast for the ages a luau awaits
A romantic evening under the stars ours to create
Hula dancers swaying to the music under the moonlight
Drinks flowing like the ocean to liven up our night
Our evening of fun has come to an end
We leave in high spirits as tomorrow we will do it all again
Hanging out at Santa Monica Pier,
wining in dixie cups, dancing in the sand.
Chants of drink…drink…drink.
I took no time to think…think…think.
I wake up with a cacophonous surf,
unlike the gentle roar of a seashell,
and my head pounds, my eyes barf
in the light bright of dawn’s scarf.
Where am I, I wonder…how did I…
Asleep around me, are surfboards.
The breakers bound an “Aloha.”
When did I leave Santa Monica?
No suitcase with me. Still in my bikini.
Did none come with me? Am I dreaming?
I hear those chants of drink…drink…drink.
Why’d I take no time to think…think…think
I’d have felt bare, but girls galore arrive
with itsy bitsy teeny weeny suits.*
I have to broach the subject with hot breath.
They won’t believe me; my pride’s death.
They giggle and say, “We are having the same dream!”
Here we party in Waikiki with tropical sips.
Chants ring out, drink…drink…drink
I take no time to think…think…think
I wake up on a beach at Santa Monica Pier.
The rounds of dreams, unreal, a bit upset.
I’d hoped to tour the Pacific Island of Oahu.
Instead I quip, “ What..where..why..when..who?
I hear those chants of drink…drink…drink
I won’t fall for the same PTSD prank.
This time I run into the California waters.
Taken by a shark - with no sons or daughters.
Deserted we lie, banished to a shoe box; discarded metal
scraping metal every spring as our ignored box gets shelved
in a different room of the house; forsaken and further away
from real life. We demand equal time with your mobile phone
games, your Netflix programs, and your facebook videos!
We are your neglected Hot Wheels cars. Pick us up and
let's play a while... bright colors, mag wheels, cool decals,
no need to charge batteries or download an app, just four
wheels and a hood that opens and closes. Vintage VW's,
Oldsmobiles, Dodge muscle cars, Indy 500 speedsters,
futuristic dream cars rejected by car companies (but don't
we still look cool after all these years?) Let's go for a cruise
down the Main Street of your living room table or race down
the autobahn of your hallway or explore the Amazon jungle
out in your backyard (just remember not to track any mud
into the house!) Find those forgotten bright orange tracks
you jettisoned in the attic and go invite your neighbors over
for a "race of the century", followed by a glass of cold milk.
Draw some streets on butcher paper and pretend to be the
mayor of a small town, populated by Indy Eagles, Silhouettes,
Red Barons, Custom Firebirds, Paddy Wagons, Classic '36
Ford Coupes (with rumble seat), Chevy Camaros, Roadsters,
Lotus Turbines, Deoras (with surfboards), Custom Eldorados,
and you.
Hot Wheels (TM) is a trademark of Mattel Inc.
When the sun goes down in Maine
Ice defines the name of winter
Snow melts the hearts of children
Who step inside to play Monopoly
Fathers cut holes in the frozen lake
There must be a fish or two to catch
Florida hangs on to summer heat
To surfboards and hurricane waves
A flat land like an appendage clings
To the southeast bottomed out
Like a broken leg or lost foot dangled on a map
And more than enough traffic to go nowhere fast
Dolphins chirp like swollen birds
They never heard of New England
Or of cold in the far north places
Where clouds swallow the sun whole
Including day light in one big gulp
Life remains the same in Maine
A long distance from the sun
People wear sunglasses to blot out visitors
Who only go there to ski in winter
Heat is the only spoken word in Florida
English is a second language there
Lightning strikes, sharks attack
Alligators and crocodiles coexist
Think of themselves as naturalized
Blending in with the retired seniors
Who also view themselves as citizens