#surf
Some Buds, aren't meant to bloom
and are plucked, very early.
Some Dreams, are just Dreams
and they fade out, too early.
Some Waves, aren't made to surf,
and they fizzle out, too early.
My Heart, wasn't meant for Love.
That's why, She left so early.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 9:48 AM UTC
The yellow-brown waves
of the muddy murky surf:
crowned with a white fizz.
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:18 AM UTC
SUMMER ******
What a Drag!!!
missing out on fun
you could've had;
Instead of Sunbathing and
chilling on the sand,
Because of your actions,
off the Beach
YOU WERE BANNED!!!
Your mind is ***** and
your INTENTIONS
are WEAK, but
Who told you it was
OK for you to STREAK???
It was quite a shock, and
a DEFINITE SCARE!!!
You out here running around
FLAT OUT BARE!!!
Get off the beach and
away from this BAY!!
5-0's been notified and are on the way
HOW DARE YOU!!!
YOU PERVE!!!
YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED!!
You try that again you'll
never see the light of day!!
I must admit He was insane
HE REALLY, REALLY WAS!!!
He probably was really DRUNK or
strung out on DRUGS
People today please
WATCH YOUR
SURROUNDINGS
this poem might offend
or be somewhat
astounding!! What I'm
really trying to
say is to
BE AWARE!!!
people done gone
crazy and they
REALLY DON'T CARE.
SAFETY FIRST
CONCLUSION OF THESE words!!!!!
B.R.
Date: 01/24/2023
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 11:27 PM UTC
___ghouls and goblins splash,
face paint melts into the surf,
trickles and retreats___
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 5:43 PM UTC
Predannack
You lean back
Into the wind
On the clifftops at Predannack
It holds your weight
You test its strength
Leaning a little further
It holds, to your Joy
It holds
Arms splayed in crucifix
T-shirt billowing at your sides
Your sturdy ankles
Planted in deep heather
I watch from a rock
At the cliff's edge
Waves **** and swirl
A death's distance below
I am swept over
By sweet chamomile
Swept over
Reeling on dizzying scents
My heart is stopped
By the Joy you feel
For the World
We killed
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 3:32 PM UTC
The siren's are singing,
I hear them, they call,
Their cries they summon me,
Into the wild sea.
Their gentle song,
A beautiful hum,
The crashing of waves,
The thunder that saves,
The stillness, inside of me.
Find me, here in this sea,
The dance I share,
Alone, I am free,
The place I found me.
The urgency, the hunger,
Burning in my eyes, the wonder,
What was my life before this?
The sea I will always miss.
Another sun rises,
A stunning blaze, above glassy waves,
I find in myself hope arises,
I surrender into the hope that saves,
The moonlight glistens,
Forever my heart will listen.
My home, my shelter, my life and my love.
For here I am, alone.
In the sea.
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC
She told me that she loves deep
& the swell of her heart
Holds so much water.
I myself never believed that
The world was round.
The clouds themselves
hang their shoulders
Out the dresses the sun has woven
& the sky proves that night gowns
Are not only brought in stores.
She told me that she loves deep
& the swell of her heart
Holds so much water.
With the stars of her eyes
Lighting the way.
I'll find a way
If she were to close her eyes
& the stars were to disappear
From the sky.
I am forever thankful.
Adorned in the swell
Of her heart
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 4:25 PM UTC
Surf laps at the shore
gentle hand smoothing the sheets
time to drift away...
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 9:37 PM UTC
Sometimes,
when the world is quiet
I let my mind free
To wander where it will go
And sometimes,
when the silence lingers
my soul escapes it bonds
And dances with my heart
Sometimes,
As my heart and soul dance
I feel a rhythm flowing
And I’m caught up in its currents
And sometimes,
I capture the essence of that rhythm
and for one glorious moment
I can surf upon the waves of creation
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
a caper has the flower trifocal
and ties from the skies now leaner than haze
that romance mash on sand
only jasper there's midst of surfboard
the recumbent fashion of hers
and solely in this decampment
will bring safari to encampment
though she suffered triumph litany
with mishmash and hullabaloo
yet she'll pound the pipe
in her organic fangs
mays butter's a lot of bot
to ground those tears of Walloon
there a plunder from seaside saloon
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
The feeling of the saltwater getting through my hair, is amazing to.
The balance you make while standing on your board, like you're finally completed.
Like my heart is on the right place.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 8:05 PM UTC
It is amazing, the life of a wave.
It takes forever to build up
and then once it finds its way to the beach,
is alive for only a couple seconds.
As beautiful as this sounds,
the act of the surfer is even more.
The wave exists momentarily
but while it does,
the surfer carves smooth silky lines into it
creating a form of art seen only by few.
After that, that single wave is gone forever;
It is not coming back.
The surfer will never surf that same wave again.
The life of the wave now only exists in memory.
Personally, I find nothing more beautiful than that.
B.K.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 12:38 AM UTC
Scrounging local garage sales... near ten years past... I had found a flat, welded iron, rusty seahorse... 3 feet high... with a good seahorse shape and poise... edges welded and cut... after the haggle... twenty-five dollars..... perfectly added to my estate... covered rust in gold sheen... mounted upon a tree... to greet all comers... with a seahorse kiss!
Seller said it was made by the same artist... of the turtle lady statue... to be found in Corpus Christi! Asked if I had seen it... my reply... No, but I liked the seahorse piece! He expounded... the artist... only had one leg... but was a surfer... well known for this trait... in Corpus Christi!
After I had mounted the seahorse... upon it's tree...I did an internet search... looking for anything about the one-legged surfer artist of Corpus Christi! Found... nothing!
End of May, 2019... visiting my sister, Donna... we were wandering Corpus Christi! She guided us to the surf museum... not knowing the story... of the one-legged surfer artist... creator of my mounted seahorse!
Girl at the front desk... Kyla... real nice and friendly... told her about the seahorse and questioned her... she didn’t know... she never heard of a surfer with one leg or the turtle lady statue! Looking at us just a bit strangely... one legged surfer???
Donna and I... started our stroll through the small museum! Along the right side... stood a long row of surfboards... I’ve never surfed... but I was imagining trying it with just one leg!
Anyhow... I didn’t really stop to read or look in any detail at any of the exhibits until I reached the back... there was a glass case... which had a piece of simple letter paper... 8.5x11... taped to the front of the glass cabinet! I started in reading the last paragraph...
“Welch, 53, and his wife, Chelsea Louise, 23, died September 15, 2001, when their car plunged off the edge of South Padre Island’s Queen Isabella Causeway, which partially collapsed after a string of barges crashed into the bridge’s support pilings!
Thought to myself... Wow... Who is this guy??? I jumped up to the middle paragraph...
“Welch lost one of his lower legs in an auto accident in the 1970s, but he kept surfing with a prosthesis. He wore a peg-like prosthesis at first, then got one with a foot. He won the prosthesis division of the United States Surfing Championships on South Padre Island in 1998.”
In the glass case was a welded metal sculpture of a beach scene... with waves, palm trees, and all! The piece did have some resemblance in style to my seahorse sculpture! Also, there was a picture on top of the case... of Harpoon Barry... striking a muscular, no shirt pose... in his tattoo shop... his torso covered in tattoos!
“It is said... he was on the verge of suicide after losing his leg. In one interview with the San Antonio Express News in 1992 he said; "I may not make it to heaven, but you can be sure I made no deals with the devil to get where I'm at now, " Looking down at his false leg stretched out in front of him, Welch said quietly: "It is a real empty feeling when you put one of these on for the first time, especially if you are an adult on your own. And your mama'a not there and your daddy's not there, and the people in the hospital tell you, 'This is the best it's going to get. I made my first leg myself, out of Hi-C cans. I couldn't wait for my leg to get finished. I wanted to walk. I guess I got the idea from the Tin Woodsman in 'The Wizard of Oz.' That leg actually worked pretty well!”
I had found my one-legged surfer artist! I walked towards Donna... who was already half-way leaving the museum... I hollered to her... she just had to come see this ... “I think I found the one-legged surfer!” She had recently had partial knee replacement... and was hobbling! She said if I was fooling her... she better not walk back all that way for nothing!! She came back to the glass case... we read through the letter in it’s entirety!
Then we went... and told Kyla at the front desk... she again looked at us again a bit strange... but then reluctantly left her post to go with us to take a look... she was then astounded! Said she never knew about the one-legged surfer... although she had worked at the museum for several years! Said there were also a couple metal sculptures... at the front of the museum... she thought were also done... by Harpoon Barry! We took pictures of those also!
In the letter we also read...
“Welch had numerous tattoos and body piercings. He wore a tiny 14 carrot gold harpoon through one ****** That is how he got his nick name according to a friend, Scott Gangel.”
"I am a unique, self-made sensation!” he said matter-of-factly... in the interview with the Express News!
It's been 18 years since eight people died when South Padre Island's Queen Isabella Memorial Causeway collapsed... sending 11 people into the water below... four days after the 9/11 attacks! A string of tow barges had struck the supporting pilings! A section of the roadway had collapsed...
I promised Kyla... I would donate my seahorse piece to the museum upon my death! I only hope my death... is as grand as Harpoon Barry’s plunge into the Gulf of Mexico with his young wife! Wonder what they were doing during the plunge... what was Barry doing... yelling Yippee Ki Yay... or Surf’s up... Dude!!!... maybe???
Surfed waves on one leg
Young wife... crazy life... grand death
Harpooned by Barry
© 2019 Jim Davis
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 7:47 PM UTC
. sea and sand, .
salt and surf, foam and
froth, greet and gather, tumble
and turn, rock and roll, spray and
spin, cross and current, roar
and rise, crash and curdle, mix
and mash, blend and bash, drip
and drop, pour and plunder, leap and
layer, mound and mist, shine and sheen, scoop
and scale, spread and span, fall and falter, leap and
layer, splash and spire, bubble and brine, writhe and write
s e a w o r t h y
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 2:08 AM UTC
If there was a tilde wave and you had a surfboard, I still think you would die.
And if you didn't die you would sail past bodies and ******* and weird things like vacuum hoses and cafe menus would float by, and I think that would make you feel sick.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
Paddle
Paddle
Paddle
Up and on my feet
Falling, thrill of the initial fall
To catch the ride
Colliding currents crash waves
Into mental deadlock days
Winter swells come at shore break
Building momentum and grind
Like breaks at homesick Pipeline
Ride, curl and slide
Rip
Sweep the sides
Slick
Don’t choke this good vibe
Stay on this wave
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
He came like a tidal wave,
And engulfed me in his ocean depth.
My joy crossed all boundaries,
Happiness seared through my very being,
I found the lyrics of my love life in his arms,
We were one large heartbeat.
And when it was over,
He threw me with the surf that rolled and crashed on the shore.
It left many ripples of grief,
With me, abandoned, a forlorn seaweed,
Overwhelmed with bitterness and regret.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
Suit
All I can write about at the moment is love;
So I am going to ride the crest of a wave,
Until the time my surf board breaks.
When you see me crawling up onto the beach in my wet suit;
Only then will you see that I am done
And other poetry will appear again.
This is my truth. Love is my pain.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
when did i leave the ocean last night.
i was thinking.
engrossed in my on thought flowing with the tide in my head.
i thought i left the sea, at 1:03 am.
i was there all evening. chatting with the waves.
gliding through the barrel, the greenroom.
with my feet on the deck of the surfboard.
covered in wax.
when did i leave the ocean.
i didn't
i'm still here.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 7:58 PM UTC
Walking along the beach,
a lone surfer prepares for
his battle with the Atlantic ocean.
Waves, thick and heavy from
bitter cold and climate change.
A rush of momentary fear and oxygen
courses densely through his veins as he
paddles out to the 9 foot walls swelling
with tremendous energy and power and
crashing overhead, the surfer searches for
solace in the silence beneath the wave.
Blasts of slushy water numb his face,
rejoicing at the crispness of outside air
reminding him how it feels to be alive
in the moment, patiently positioning himself
to catch that one, perfect wave.
His body numb from freezing salt water
seeping into his wetsuit sends shivers
forcing every ounce of energy to the forefront
as the zenith of his performance comes with
thick, frothy wave charging behind him.
He drops in to the face of the mountain of water
chasing him through the thumping tube,
pumping through the barrel, gaining speed for his exit,
he shoots through the gap and coasts to shore.
Never looking back, always forward with smile wide,
heart full, body drained and temporary enlightenment, he ponders
"it was another successful surf session,"
as he drives off toward the
setting summer sun.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC