"surfboard" poems
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.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
I cried upon my hawaiian departure
not tears of sorrow but tears of former and future joy
my tears trailed down my cheek like the Paheehee stream
before landing upon the ground like a soft hawaiian rain in spring
when my tears evaporated they formed a long flat cloud
in the shape of surfboard voyaging westward bound.
the cloud upon reaching the sea,
shape-shifted into a large volcano, vengful and menacing
with the torential downpour a sign of the volcanoe's erupting
The storm began to thicken The volcano spinning around it's core
like that of a fire dancers stick, scattering the tears evermore
when the storm cleared eight tears washed upon each hawaiian shore
wiating for me to surf upon my tears
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
He's Uncle John to you, but John to the rest of us
Got a way of telling stories without the fanfare or the fuss
He can jump into any conversation, has a lot of stuff to say
and every bit is interesting 'cause that always been John's way.
There was one about his summer job before 1970,
paid to push a Swan-shaped boat off a dock in Asbury
With a grapple hook on a ten foot pole, or something of that sort
well he'd push 'em out and pull 'em in wasn't doing it for sport~
The same guy who owned the swan boats, tunneled love across the way
twice a week John worked the darkness, but preferred the light of day.
Played rhythm at the Upstage in band called 'Cory' later
workin' Perkins in West Belmar, took the name from the percolator
Around that time he grew his hair out, it was like an Afro-sheen
mistaken for Tinker, a surfboard chinker and drummer with Springsteen.
Cruisin' down around Brookdale in his '39 LaSalle
Met 'Stinky' Tink at Thompson Park, where he was singing with his pal
Hey John, you look like Tinker,
but now you favor Gere
a live ringer for Mike Richards,
and don't forget DeNir-
Oh, if you can't remember anything from 40 years ago
just ask your Uncle John who knows the time in Tokyo.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
(you are not mine)
I ride this wave alone.
surfboard.
crash.
drown.
up for air.
breathe again.
eyes open.
sunshine.
feet on sand.
i escaped the pull of pain.
within the waves.
of heartache.
i long for you.
to wrap me in a towel.
your arms.
cradle my small body.
strip out of wetness.
step into heat.
water washing away the fear.
i felt in the sea.
------
(and if you were...)
crawl into sheets.
mattress underneath,
you on top.
all your weight.
pushing me into bliss.
rise.
from slumber.
your body against mine.
warmth and wetness meet again.
chew. swallow.
nourished by grains.
tea,
brew.
wake me further.
my day begins and ends.
with you.
i find my way.
back to your love.
troubled.
over-thinking.
you quiet the noise.
crippled.
you caress this soul.
i meet the sea again.
and you pull me free.
from the waves.
of a scarred brain.
that has seen evil.
and monsters.
you love me regardless.
of my foibles.
and.
you set me free.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
Rising before instinct completes my sleep, rousing common sense out of bed,
I pack the car. It's so dark the moon is still drowsing.
Soon I am in the cool ocean, arms propelling me and a surfboard,
stomach submerged and chest free through white water splashes,
then crests breaking, then up and over their shoulders
to arrive at the very place where waves emerge from calm water.
At this hour there are only a handful of other dawn-patrol surfers, all Hawaiians.
Greeting with a smile of bright grace learned from the sun, and a cheerful How'z It?
brown glowing skin tattooed with small triangle patterns on strong arms, chests, backs,
emblems of kama'aina heritage and Aloha's honor.
A little talk story, sharing a laugh, and I sit up to take sentinal,
beginning the quiet meditation
searching the horizon for the sea's ever-changing intention.
Morning wakes color, with sleepy palms rubs away the world's hushed gray veil
revealing sky blue on royal aquamarine and palm-tree green silhouetting tropical canyon jade.
The mountain's gold-rimmed halo of mist is announcing dawn's imminent arrival.
She bursts over the ridge, arms showering the water with tiny pebbles of light
gold jewels skipping across the sparkling surface and turning silver.
It must be so beautifully curious from below, the whale's eye view here in their sanctuary.
First we see a mysterious dark shape, a nose, that morphs into an ever-expanding building,
that materializes into the entire magnificent whale suspended in our thin world
then arching over, she bursts the water, scattering dawn's sparkling treasure.
We surfers call with uncharacteristic exclamations, pointing in excitement,
So close we can feel the whale's contagious joy.
One Hawaiian woman slides off her board, to place her ear on the water in reverie;
hearing the Kahunas ancient Aumakua call.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
Half cut teens dressed in high street dreams
stand and survey the beach,
combing it for male shells, to clarify:
guys who think crucifix tattoos on their lower leg will save them from hell.
A mother whose job it is to look after surfboard and parasol,
yes you the mother looking my way,
you should ditch the marriage and get on the road,
hug the coast with tire squeals,
hug men with body sacrificing screams in
cheap French roadside hotels that don’t clean their bathrooms that well.
Girlfriend left to sit the sun out whilst boyfriend joins husbands in the surf,
reads but really she’s breathing,
passing the hours and folding over page corners,
don’t let him see that you don’t love him.
Tablet kids who watch the sea on screen, in apps,
when behind them is a torrent of live data swells and boils
causing swimmers to tumble and coil up close to the sea bed,
some parents, increasingly the same,
forgetting why they came to the coast in the first place.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
little mr mole he was sad one day
he packed himself a case and took a trip away.
boarded on a plane far across the sea
searching for some fun adventure bound was he.
he landed in hawii in search of lots of fun
in this foriegn land with lots of sea and sun.
he bought himself a surfboard and a snorkel to
see he could surf and swim in the sea so blue.
surfing on the waves and swimming on the reef
seeing all the creatures that live underneath
different colored fish and a seahorse to
lots of different shell fish there were quite a few.
he was very happy as he was before
is adventure had been fun and he was sad no more.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
Feel the power and the force of nature.
Hear the waves crash and vibrate, churning up seaweed and debris
Taste the salty foam as you take a tumble from your surfboard.
Isn't it magical to soak up all of these senses, breathing in the crisp, comforting scent of the ocean air.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
little percy pig went looking for some fun
so he took a holiday and headed for the sun
he headed for hawaii with its golden sand
with his little suitcase carried in his hand
he bought himself a surfboard and went down to the sea
a little surfing pig he was going to be
he mounted on the waves to ride them to the shore
he was having fun and rode the waves once more
the little pig got hungry and decided he would eat
sat down on the beach and made himself a treat
feeling rather tired and filled with lots glee
he fell fast asleep beneath a big palm tree
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
I hate how I love this feeling
Warmth that crawls through each vein
All control lost in it's presence
Dependency driving insane
I ride wave like a surfboard
Wherever it may go
No matter how low it carries me
Don't have the will to let go
Time spins circles around
Feels like I am frozen in place
Not only am I not in first
Not even running the race
But wings of comfort lift
In the air while I am high
I inevitably come crashing down
That comfort is only a lie
Hardly notice pain when I land
The drugs have made me numb
It is only when I run out of them
That I am forced to face what I've become
I watch dreams slip out of hands
They fly somewhere out of range
In their place are thorny regrets
Does not seem like a fair exchange
Nothing good blooms here anymore
Body became a barren wasteland
Only the occasional tumbleweed
Rolls across desert of sand
My soul scorched and blackened
Like earth where lightning struck
All the universe offers me
A pocketful of bad luck
The world a beautiful place I know
To me it no longer looks that way
Envy the people who still see it as such
From my perspective surroundings are grey
Maybe if I hold on a little longer
Blue skies will one day return
It's hard to hope when you've witnessed
Everything you love and care for burn
And it is even harder living
Amidst ashes of your greatest desire
When you cannot escape the awful fact
You're the one who started the fire
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
five pebbles
stacked on bottom step
circled with chalk of blue
culminating in an arrow
pointing toward the back yard
four pebbles stacked in the driveway
sitting on a piece of sandlewood
sharpened to a point
indicating a pathway to the back yard
at the corner of the house
three pebbles wrapped in wire
stung together, hanging off the
battered surfboard ...arced toward
the backyard
in the middle of the vege patch
a table upon which
two stacked pebbles sit
table set for breakfast
chairs with cushions
an invitation to sit
one god boy, coming with tray
from kitchen, ever so carefully
makes his way to the table
serves pancakes and syrup
juice and coffee, fruit salad
and gives his dad a single pebble
deep brown striped with white
and a small gold spot..polished to a shine,
with a hole drilled throughand leather loop
smiles, tears and bearhugs
father's day has begun...
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 6:00 AM UTC
Today’s key stroke painted tale started a few short days ago
When his father found him on the bathroom floor and with no blood flow
Why are your lips blue and why is that belt again wrapped around your arm?
O’ My God son, look at what you now have really done
You just got out of jail days ago, I been all alone and it wasn’t fun
You promised me you would clean up and stop all that body harm
You’re gone now and with no return, who’s going to help me now run the farm?
An old street friend years ago, he was someone very well, I used to also know
I had to give up that life because I have a much better place I now want to go
Earlier today before I got done slowly processing you, my second ever autopsy case
I vowed to your father, he made me promise and say I would bring you back home safe
And to your brother I’d play all your favorite songs at the start on the ride back
You are now back in your town and inside the best ever made Funeral Parlor
I unzipped your bag so I could see you one last time; I was the last to ever see your face
I then put a letter in your hand so you can take it with you forever into space
Last night after I talked with your Dad and Lil’ J all about your stories
While sipping on Don Julio Tequila I also sniped and saved till today,
And in your other hand you also hold, a piece of the family cactus a rare peddled flower
Slated plan Monday morning is, I’m taking you to your next process
After that, because you were a surfer in CA. growing up as a kid, Lil’ J
Is flying back with your ashes in his arms and then strapping you down onto
Like a surfboard he's helping let you ride the waves in the Pacific Ocean
And that is what you will be doing forever and ever more,
As you always requested, your special never ending moving motion.
R.I.P M S, 2013
(SirCARSr. 3-23-13)
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
I remember the last time I went surfing.
I loved every second of it. I loved running out into the icy water, the chill taking a second to hit the vulnerable skin under my wetsuit. Those fleeting seconds of running ankle deep in the water before realizing how cold it is, and the moments following where I just kept running anyway, my body and board becoming dispersed in sea froth. I loved feeling my feet sink into the grainy sand as I gradually reach a depth that touches above my waist, then, bracing myself for the numbing cold, diving onto my board, immersing my top half in the crisp temperature the water holds. After the piercing cold is absorbed by my skin, and I am lying flat on smooth fiberglass, I see a wave forming in the distance. In a hurry, paddling madly, grazing my hands on the fiberglass sides of the board, desperate to get deep enough to catch the wave. I turn the board around and feel the wave coming behind me. This is the moment. The moment that feels like waiting for your plane to take off, or waiting for a raffle to be drawn, hoping desperately to hear your name called out. I feel the swell behind me, and continue paddling, facing the shore this time. I can feel it as a powerful but consistent surge brings the nose of my board up, and I hurry to lift myself up. I am crouching. My hands nervously let go of the sides. I am bent over. I am straightening. I am standing. My palms are flailing madly, but feel free in the warmer air. Within seconds, I lose my balance and the rush pulls me under. I fall off the board and take a mouthful of seawater. I emerge, laughing, trying to stabilize my focus and figure out whereabouts on the beach I am. As I drag the board back to shore, the salty sea water is already drying in my hair, fingernails and skin. I feel the familiar crunch of dry sand, and collapse, laughing, into the soft grains. I could do this again.
I was so excited to finally have my own surfboard. Brand new, I just hadn't had the chance to take it out yet. My brother asked to borrow it one day, and I couldn't see why not. He helped me attach the fins and leg rope, and I watched him walk away with my latest investment.
I was going into the garage to find something when I saw it there, in half, the fiberglass peeled towards the nose, the insides stuffed with sand, lying in a pile. The next day, my brother came home to find me waiting for him outside his room. "I have good and bad news! The bad news is, I broke your surfboard, the good news is, you now have two boogie boards!". I am sitting.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
little percy pig went looking for some fun
so he took a holiday and headed for the sun
he headed for hawaii with its golden sand
with his little suitcase carried in his hand.
he bought himself a surfboard and went down to the sea
a little surfing pig he was going to be
he mounted on the waves to ride them to the shore
he was having fun and rode the waves once more.
the little pig got hungry and decided he would eat
sat down on the beach and made himself a treat
feeling rather tired and filled with lots glee
he fell fast asleep beneath a big palm tree.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
Trapped in a helium glow of iridescent isolation, in the terrifying grasp of convalescent irritation.
Nevertheless, it's the complex grin of a mechanical computation, not some abstract will of a medical complication, but the laborious equations of a most difficult accusation.
Now you can swim through a black hole, or ride a surfboard on a supernova, but a white dwarf star will slow down the ball speed of Anna Kournikova.
In an instant the universe could end, but it would be so fast we would not see until it came back again.
You think your real?
The sands of an hourglass steal the time you say, but you're the one that plays, no.
That expanded feeling you get, when you realize the universe as gotten larger...or made you smaller...in an attempt to understand its own creation, experiment after experiment.
One never thinks to understand their world until it is crushing down upon them, baring teeth, going for the **** only then, is understanding important.
A trillion suns shine in a billion solar systems in a million galaxies and then some, but a single kiss from her lips, could break apart Calypso.
Within the dark matter, memories and patience lost, we have never diminished our flame of will.
Savage endings frayed in the yesterday dust....memories twice scorned.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
One empty surfboard out on the water
One empty board no soul survivor
Just floating out there
A silent reminder
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
As you hear the waves pound the shore you shiver with excitement holding the slick surfboard waiting for the right moment. On your stomach arms slicing through the ice cold water, feeling the spray of the ocean on your face, your suit clinging to you like a second skin. With your back to the waves, body tense with anticipation, hearing the ocean roaring you calmly and carefully get to your feet, squatting on your board, having to keep your balance and not get disoriented you wait, waiting for the feel of your board being lifted, feeling it, you rise keeping your knees bent riding the surfboard over the face of the wave. You look to the side of you seeing the curl of the wave, better known as the funnel cone. Turning sharply you head for the cone. The curl of the wave closes around you, but you do not feel afraid for you know that you are the one in control not the wave. Staying on the wave, inside of the cone pushing your back foot on the back of the board sending you flying through. Not looking back, but you can hear the funnel cone crashing behind you nipping at your heels urging you on busting out of the funnel cone at the end sharply maneuvering your board so you are now well on your way to the shore, dropping to your hands and feet, gripping the board with your hands you drop to your knees then straddling the board riding the last little bit of the wave to solid ground. Standing on the shore you look out at the vast openness of the ocean with the sun setting on it with the colors dancing over the crystal blue water, feeling your heart slowing down finally the adrenaline rush leaving your veins. You walk home with the slick board under your arm waiting for the next day seeing how many more waves you can catch.
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 3:55 AM UTC
I'm like your little teddy bear, you
dragged me around whenever I was
needed. Now I'm not, I'm hidden from
your sight. When something wasn't right
you held me, cried and told the tales.
I'm like the pet dog you had for a while
we would walk and run, mile after mile,
when done, you'd talk about a girl of somewhere
I don't know. Now you're on vacation.
I feel like the lice that needed your hair and then you shaved.
Or more like the used tissue when you watched a movie about charlie.
I'm like the old and rusty bike after the cyclist bought a harley.
Or the surfboard and the flagpole and the kitten you saved.
I could think I misbehaved or craved
too much attention.
Sightless pozzo, I'm your lucky. How unfortunate my fear is greater.
I'd listen all the time and open up, tell a rhyme and fill a cup
with sublime wines from another country.
I used to be quiet, did not feel the need to share,
now I'm bursting with emotions, places where
my mind can rest, should have been with you,
somewhere in a cosy nest.
This lousy world with lousy people, lousy conversations,
lousy remarks and lousy relations,
stop this pain, end it now, or save my life and renew a vow
of dedication.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
sister stood on a rocking chair
blowing kisses
to brother
who *******
was using
as a surfboard
a mirror
that made him look
like an egg-
the two
like two
sounds
listening
could hear
father
walking on his hands
in the attic
and mother
nailing
her extra
pair
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
little percy pig went looking for some fun
so he took a holiday and headed for the sun
he headed for hawaii with its golden sand
with his little suitcase carried in his hand.
he bought himself a surfboard. went down to the sea
a little surfing pig he just long to be
he mounted on the waves to ride them to the shore
he was having fun and rode the waves once more.
the little pig got hungry and decided he would eat
sat down on the sand and made himself a treat
feeling rather tired and filled with lots glee
he fell fast asleep beneath a big palm tree.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
A car pulls up along the shoreside and a man in a suit and tie slides out to find the sand.
The beach has quieted.
A few surfers paddle hurriedly out to sea for a last run in the twilight.
An older couple stands by the water’s edge.
Wisps of the woman’s gray hair flutters above her, caught in the ocean breeze.
The lifeguard station sits quiet, the small, whitewashed house perched on reed-like stilts shuttered for the night, though the sand is still warm from the afternoon sun.
The man rolls up his pant legs and removes his socks and shoes and places them beside him.
He shields his eyes from the splintered sun’s rays as he scans the water clear to the thick black line of the horizon.
A young woman, flaxen-haired, a surfboard cupped effortlessly at her side, the bridge of her nose tinctured white, emerges from the waves.
Wet-suited, bare-footed, head tilted skyward, she hikes along the sand, her day’s work done.
As her shadow lengthens over him, the specter causes him to glance downward.
A few grains of sand have clung to the tips of his polished shoes.
He decides to leave them.
Dec 18, 2023
Dec 18, 2023 at 11:17 AM UTC
Just touched down from Darwin,
2 hour layover in Sydney & I’m starvin’,
met a girl at the airport,
and invited her to dinner,
they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch,
but I’ve got a credit card that let’s me dine,
at almost any restaurant in any country,
on any continent in any dateline,
so I often invite,
beautiful girls and other fellow travelers,
to dine with me as my guest for free,
where we share stories over appetizers,
more peace stories than war stories,
more love than hate,
because when you really get to know someone,
you find you differ in less ways than you relate,
anyways,
there we were,
both on rest stops till our next stop,
two world travelers,
I’d noticed an engagement ring,
more than a modest sized rock,
but I noticed the finger on which it sat,
made the look a bit odd,
see she wore the ring,
on her middle finger instead of her ring finger,
so it was more of a fck you instead of a love you,
I asked her if there was a reason for this position,
she said it was because,
it simply didn’t fit on her ring finger,
that it was a simple mix up that was it but,
I suspected there was a reason that was deeper,
so I questioned her intentions,
why was she with this man but still acting like a free woman,
why was she speaking of “exploding like a volcano!”,
when she sees a man and feels an attraction,
about how she had a fantasy,
of meeting a beautiful Australian man,
on a beach and he’d teach her to surf,
and she’d ride his surfboard from the wave to the sand,
this was when I decided to speak up,
to tell her I didn’t think this engagement would work out,
that maybe tying the knot with a man was already a dad,
was not the best idea for a woman with no kids that liked to go out,
that maybe I was in a way,
an Angel of Divine Intervention,
and how every moment of our lives,
had led us up to that instant,
I told her no man owned her,
that her body was hers alone to control,
that life is too short to compromise,
that there is no moment other than now,
I told her that that was the reason,
that I didn’t have a wife,
because there are many women I love,
and to love only one wouldn’t be right,
how can I tell one of my lovers,
that she’s better than all the rest,
how can I tell any of the others,
that they’re not as good as the one that I’m with,
I can’t,
because love is not confined into the body of one,
love is free to love and do what love does,
and with that we finished our tapas,
and finished our rendezvous with cappuccinos and hugs,
back into the world,
back into the embrace of another lover,
back into the future,
to make more memories with more women at more dinners…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
I loved before
She was my surfboard
Our love created the waves
But as the water subside
So did our fire that could engulf any flame
Snuffed out by rough hands
Choked until it suffocated
Stuck in low tide
Now what I felt has gone and hide
Could it ever be found
To afraid to be betrayed
To caution to put up my heart for auction again
No bidder can ever win
My heart behind a stripped locked
Cause by the wrong keys
But I ask
Could I ever fall again
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC