Wade Redfearn Aug 2012
Let's think about this, before we do it.
Let's think about this.
Let's do it.

You can tell me I've failed. My lungs are hot.
My breath is useless, like my rescue.

If you close a door, I open a wound.
I made plans to steal you from yourself.
I wanted sunlight for you, roots and crawling
ants, pyramids of help and hope.

I wanted.
I wanted them to be mine, my contribution.
The self wants a shadow. A shield.
A soul.
The -I- falls apart when the skin does.

There was a moment when
you became who you always were:
alone, surviving against a sea of black,
and I could not help you. Could not
swim against the dark surf
your arms themselves made.

And how am I now to make you
some craft to come home on.
How am I now to give
knots and knowledge to your
drowning. I cannot brave
the isles that break you from
the strings of sand that wait beyond the waves
dying, still, to give you home and breath.

I want your bedding. Your body.
I want your terrible soul, your bait and switch,
your milk, your cave, the meat of your
isolation, the heart you hid in the Pacific.

All I ever find at sea:
tired arms, a head full of wishes.
(Not exactly buoyant.)
And the flashing fins of fish
who sank and died.
Kelly Roland Jun 2013
to feel anticipation with the slightest notion
   like the sound of waves crashing

on a distant ocean
thats what
you do to me
Searching Apr 2011
Twisted reeds sway gently in the wind as black seabirds slice the sky overhead.
Waves rolling one by one crash with increasing ferocity on to the rocky beach,
And I watch the red sun set fire to the spray while  the tide encircles me.
Tugging at my feet, pulling me forward, it beckons for my consent. I give in,
And all is quiet even in such chaos. All is nightmarish and beautiful all the more.

The blood red horizon seers my retinas; freshly unleashed tears take to the sea.
These waves, such enormous swells, crash in on me; an unseen war is waging.
They press  me down and back, and then drag me further into the endless blue.
Over and over again, repetition loses count, my outcries die prematurely.
Only seawater and air manage to sputter from my lips, cracked and worn.

Not a whisper can be heard out here in such a true state of despair, but not all
Castaways are without faith. The past I once cherished has been lost to the depths,
Yet a knowing tingle in my gut keeps me searching for a message hidden merely
'Neath the surface. Drifting deeper into my pain, I notice a curious thing:  
The force of the waves lessening as I gracelessly surrender to Sorrow and the sea.

My feet torn by jagged rocks no longer felt, my eyelids blistered by the red
Eternal sunset, a few waves push me under before the siege of the sea falters and
I learn to ride the surf, taking each afront as it comes, whether predicted or
Suddenly upon me. My pain ebbs away slowly with the passing of each episode,
And with each wave I acknowledge my loss, relinquishing my burden.

Like so many desparinging hearts before me shipwrecked in the sea of tears,
I forcefully remind myself that one day the lush, inviting green shores of the
Other side of the sea will appear in my line of vision. Yet, for now, I let myself
Drift through the grief of grieving you, often unsure of whether I'm meant to float
Or should let myself sink toward the blackest crags of my mind. Here alone.
Copyright © 2011 Searching. All Rights Reserved.
wehttam Nov 2016
I purchased a trademark a few weeks ago...
I am developing a Intelecutual Property
Called IP

Tokyo Surf
Have fun.  Ttyl
A shark
afebrile acceded
deep in
shallows there
his teeth
lasted with
anticipation of
her bay
was akin
to high
jinks as
his floridity
was aghast
with achievement
that caught
her so
nobly again.
A shark in infested waters
Lexie Sep 2014
and soul
part part
and part whole

and sail
wet waves
and wet shoals

and surf
tide's end
and tides evening kisses

and away
gone and then
and gone again

scent of strawberry
and reaching fields
gentle holds
gentle feels
Travis Barefoot Aug 2011




I remember one night when the surf was just too much for me to watch. I kept waiting for the waves to stop, for someone to "turn it off", but no one would listen. It kept coming and coming and coming and...
onaono Nov 2013
I’m not the one who sails with grace
Tempestuous seas
broad as the moon

I’m not the one who stood in her firm legs
Sorting waves of ambition with equilibrium

I’m not the one who resisted equable
before unearthly weather
I’m not the one who faced bravely
A simple stormy header

I’m not the one who surfs
oceans of emotions
I’m the one who swims from dot to dot
I’m the one who knows who I am not.
Poetry surfs on a wave of words
Heading for the beach of simile and the metaphor dunes
If you surf too long the moment is gone
The wave swallows the poem, rolls it along
And throws it on the beach, to splutter and cough

               Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Elijah Corbeau Aug 2014
It's windy. The cool breeze of the ocean.
It gives,, a sense of beauty, in motion.
All is flowing, rushing and tide-
And I sit in wonder, dreaming beside.

Shells line the shore, lining and lining.
The sun is above, shining and shining.
The surf will speak softly, whispering in time,
"Oh my Love, will you deign to be mine?"

So I speak to the ocean, the Mother of all.
There's no other sound but the waves rise and fall.
Crashing, rushing, babbling in tune
Echoes the evening softness, coming so soon.
A trip to the beach breeds sensually sonorous thoughts.
Tim Loves Tankas Jun 2016
Majestic ocean
Waves spilling onto the shore
My feet in the sand
The loud cry of the seagulls
as they run into the surf
David Lauer Jun 2011
Waves roll in, pounding surf
Speeding along below the grey skies.
Spewing shit, screaming screwed songs of sadistic “self-control”
According to angry-woman, assessment of everything outweighs any enjoyment
Waves roll in, pounding surf,
Speeding along below the grey skies
Red in the distance reflects the ranting repulsive requiem that redefines our ride
Learning loses love and lacks life when you demand ludicrous lapses of logic like lectures,
Busy-work, bad business that burns the brains of brilliant children. Breath in, breath out. Listen.
Don't burn out. Let the waves wash over you
Waves roll in, pounding surf.
Speeding along below the grey skies.

Only human. The sky is clearing, but in this car you become a demon.

Only human, beneath grey skies.

Waves roll in, pounding surf.
Melanie Mazza May 2012
They might have guns
Should they approach with malice,
Ever-present, lurking in
My fishbowl of safety.

The trigger pulls
Adrenaline surges.
Draining the mind of freedom
And washing in anxiety.

Escape, routine, method.
Treading water in
Crashing waves.
Mouth dry with the saltwater.

The heavy armor pulling downward,

Only shades of gray and blue,
Out the window of a train
Void of destination.

Yes, they might have guns.
They are not the ones
Who pulled you under.
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