in baler where the sun shines and the waves visit
is where freedom bathes under the blue skies
in the seaside realm of surfing

simple hotels line the shore
where you can run to the beach fronts
after settling in little white rooms,
and in the blue water
wait tanned, youthful surfing instructors--
local boys of the province who've grown up
with the salt water as their playground.

get on your surfboard and
join the waters,
"mag-timing ka sa alon,"—
"wait for the waves", the instructors say
and lie down on your stomach on the surfboard,
and when you do get the waves you ride them fearlessly,
you are lifted, invincible,
by the hands of the philippine sea.

and if you don't surf,
the smooth sands are there,
calling you to lie around
under the seaside sun.

and when night falls
and the waves are reckless,
you can sit on the sand
with a bonfire and some drinks—
watch the stars
with the sound of the tides as your music
and do not fear;
for in the morning
the waves will come rushing
back to the shores of Balers
to give anyone freedom
as they always do.

comely, maybe
but not beautiful
my features are as round as vowels
and I carry the moon in my hips
I am an unpolished beauty
smooth pebbles resting at the bottom
of a cold clear stream
with an empty purse
imagination
my only currency

in this world
I am a shrinking violet
occasionally a rose
february-white
caught in your button-loop
long-stemmed red roses
stalk runways
hollywood bombshells
are bubbly as champagne
and full of flesh and light

but *** sans love
is still an empty bathtub
whatever happened to pin-up girls
long cigarette holders
and muted photographs?
I am distorted
in the fish-eye view
of the modern lens

in my fantasies
I am no longer sand and loam
I glow like a tall slim candle
though I am often numb and dumb
and my girls are as absent
as long lost unicorns
I am the bohemian princess

I travel through foreign lands
clothed in exotic costume
a jewelled headdress, and
indian pyjamas coloured sapphire,
turquoise and cayenne-red
my feet are near bare
and my hippie hair
is a mass of blonde curls

I take a sojourn in
southern california
warm desert air
soft against my skin
I surf in the salty sea
held buoyant by the waves
a sunset stains the sky tangerine
the palm trees
black against the orange light
click teasingly in the breeze

I watch the surfers
Sleek black forms
Bobbing up and down
Odd cormorants
Flocking here
Waiting
A New England rarity
Good surf
On a bright summer day
How long
have they waited
A life of
Vigilance
And anticipation
I wonder
Why they pass
On wave after wave
Opportunities lost
Having waited so long
From my view
Up on high
Their mistakes are
Laid bare
Future and past
A Rolling set
They wait
Adrift
ocean of time
Until the right wave
Comes
And carries them
Into the present

I ride a wave of feeling,
surfing it finding meaning,
where it will take me i am not sure,
it is a feeling after all,
it takes me places good and bad,
to times I wish I had,
sometimes I crash and burn,
others bring a positive turn,
the sharks wait for me to fall,
strongly I push beyond the call,
to the beach I go for the wave takes me,
the whitewash bubbles around me like emotions,
I step to shore where the wave brought me,
here i stand ashore looking whence I came,
how strong I am with no shame.

A social milieu nigh Zipper Beach
And surfing early morning, she's looking for her board.
A test of hers only to wipe out again only miss.   So hang ten my good friend!
In Cabo San Lucas but she's full tilt there shall grant a beaker again and again. Ole

s u m m e r t i m e . b o y
.
he fell to earth before Bowie became a star, landed on the Smithsonian current and washed ashore with webbed feet.
the south swell rider scans the horizon searching for bombora  breaks akaw, making a gnarly entry over those same rocks.
timing is crucial or the wet will smack you hard against it!
he pushes out through the foam and finds his fins ripping the green room, grinning and yewing hell bent till the salt crusts over and muscles burn.

I touched a fire once,
Unwillingly,
Unknowingly,
We are from the sea,
But not all are one with the sea,
Black, Deep, Rough,
Terrifying traits we all posses,
Like that of our womb.
If you're not happy in the ocean
You're the devil in disguise.
There are few who've rose from the core,
The flames red and hot like their passion,
And i touched one once,
Unwillingly,
Unknowingly.

Awaiting the storm
Forming on distant shores.
Preparing myself for
The oceans tidal swell.
Opening my heart
To the rawest of elements.
I ride the anticipation
Of the coming waves.
Conquering the building
Fear as the water leaps high.
A great solid wall
Unfurling its rippling energy.
Through the tube,
Board skimming, skipping.
Flirting with danger,
Risking everything,
Inside a living
Hollow cocoon of
Thundering power.
Controlled fear beats
Inside my pumping heart,
Driving my adrenaline
Through to spiritual fulfilment.
On exiting the beast,
It rolls onward to its death.
Through its existence
We both lived, sharing
A unique oneness.
Children of nature within
A union of creation, so special,
It takes the breath away.
Savouring my exhilaration,  
I see another wave being born,
And prepare to surf again.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

Little surfer girl
Framed by the sun and waves and sand
Sun-kissed skin
Slender muscles
On display for her captive audience
Pulse in sync
With the steady music
Of the shore's breathing
Attracting the spray and roar
Of almighty Poseidon
Lithe body
Gliding on the water
Like how she has
Implacably skipped and splashed
Over the breaking hearts
Of so many who have pined after her

I need but a glance
To invite me
To paddle out and see
If I can conquer her waves.