"surfers" poems
Swim in the deepest part of the ocean,
With waves over head,
A life pieced by water,
A nautical life,
Or aquatic wonders,
There is no fear,
Living in fairytales,
Mithical creatures,
Sorrounding the waters,
Travel sea to sea,
Hopes disguised as flounders,
Surfers all above,
And here come the divers,
Ready to explore,
The kind I belong to,
Sing to them now,
They'll jump off from sails,
To follow the voice,
Deep in the waters,
Desperate souls,
Following as I speak,
Gullible minds,
When told to go under,
This siren awaits,
For sailors to wonder,
To bring them in deep,
In dangerous waters.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
pray tell my friend
what are other girls like?
stereotypes only go so far
and very early into your
wishful separation of personality within gender
individual women begin to show themselves
strong women, weak ones
light and fair
dark, exotic
hair like waves
some like swirls in the clouds
***** and *****
short, long, bald or full
we have readers and writers
mothers, daughter
achievers and creators
from mechanics to doctors
surfers to fighters
athletes, disabled
every single one
worth their worth
these women don't need
you're irrelevant segregation
don't pit one girl against another
we have a much bigger war to fight
and your comparisons on
how much bigger her *** is
has no room to be heard
not now, not ever
if you can only
praise a woman
by bashing down another
then you do not deserve
to know woman.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
motorbike motorbikes on the waves
it’s fun to ride motorbikes on the waves
riding can be fun, and riding is so cool
motorbikes motorbikes on the waves
you see he is like evil kanieval
he is like dale buggins
he is like any cool dude, who has walked on the earth
motorbike motorbike on the waves
what a cool motorbike on the waves
riding motorbikes on the waves can be cool
yeah mate yeah he breaks alkl the rules, and that is cool
you see robbie maddison rides on top of an ocean in tahiti yeah
yeah, and i was there in the end with my nice old beer
motorbike motorbike, on the waves, in tahiti, what a rave
motorbike motorbike, on the waves, it’s time to not have a shave
carn the motorbikes, bring on fun
give conserves a boot up the ***
motorbikes motorbikes, yeah we’ll have fun
yeah, up with surfers, having some fun
motorbikes motorbikes, having a lot of fun, ooh yeah
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
Tall round beams standing
in salty water, connecting
fishermen and star-fish gazers
with a moon-shaped bay
on the eastern Pacific.
They stand on land and step into sea,
as rolling barrels from Arctic grounds
tickle their lower legs.
A centipede of wood, this
outward- jutting wharf.
The fishermen sink expectant hooks;
the surfers haul shiny glass
banana-shaped boards of foam;
the weekenders come posing
baby strollers for picture shooting.
Each passing wall of blue
energy slows at reach of
shallow sand, deciding
whether to keep rolling or
transform into a steep stack
of snapping water. On big days
the sea legs shake all the
fishermen. They lock away
their sacrificial bait in rusty boxes
and collapse their fibered rods.
On calm days I step out to a
wooden bench and hang my
face between the rails. Running
people pass below, between the
knotted hips and creosoted thighs.
August buries this preserve
in such drizzle. Gulls go bundling
inside their sleek robes
of white feather, leaning
windward on worn bent knees.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
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
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
East...and west, are we?
north, and south?.....maybe...
we were nurtured with love,
our eyes and our minds opened
to different isms that helped shape our
values...we were brought up, bearing our
folks' customs, traditions and principles...
we have different faiths...some practice...some
don't...some, don't even subscribe, yet, survive.
we have dry and monsoon season...in
other parts, pleasant weather, cold winds,
and in some parts, snow.....turning to ice
we are a mix of white skin, seeking for a tan,
and brown-skin, hiding from the sun;
one's night, is the other's day,
there are surfers among us, playing with the waves,
there at the cusp...gambling...daring fate...
there are those who hide from silent freezing winters,
finding warmth and comfort in long hot summers...
countless points of comparison,
yet, we've something beautiful in common,
a connection of feelings, of words...our poetry,
flowing like blood, through our veins...endlessly
feeding, fueling our hearts and minds, with classy,
themes....sometimes bold, mushy, or....sassy...
no set skeds...we do it even through adversity...
we write......
we tell about our escape from life's banalities,
mindscapes, landscapes immersed in frivolities
yet, we await the marvels of each morning we wake,
remembering gratitude, in every breath we take...
years have passed us by,
still, plays this soft music that mollifies
and inspires......heard only by you and i
prodding us, through hours, of day or night
while you exist in your own part of the world,
as i, in my hot, humid cosmos, long for cold.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May, 19, 2019
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
California Kids
I’ll call you up on Saturday
And invite you over.
Take the 101, 110 and 1;
(Sounds like an equation!)
And you’re there.
Just use your GPS..
There’ll be a party at my house,
Daft Punk playing on the Echo.
It’ll be epic, Echoic!
With some vintage’ tunes,
Crankin’ the Beach Boys,
Watching surfers
Shredding out-the-back,
Past prowling sharks in the shallows.
Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss.
I know that you miss me,
So don’t ask me why
And when you come,
I won’t ask
“What are you doing here?”
We’ll eat fish tacos,
Guacamole, Pico de Gallo
And drink margaritas
While we debate French new wave,
I’ll praise Truffaut while you
Tell me that Scorsese is the man.
When we get drunk enough
I will suggest a walk
Along the iridescent surf.
You should say yes because
I’m safe now that I drive electric,
That I turned vegan
(sorry about the fish)
and wear cruelty-free clothes.
I don’t grill snapper anymore
And take my shoes off inside the door.
Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28,
Lay down and watch the full moon
Like Jim Morrison did to write.
I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive—
I’m no poet, but you know that.
Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 3:52 PM UTC
you see cronus and barry allan and buddha, has been battling the terrible forces
of cyclone marcia, which is caused by the cosmic fight of ted bundy and ronnie biggs
you see, brian allan was very tired, because he had to fight the terrible winds caused
by ted and ronnie, you see what happening is, kids and surfers and rock fishermen
and all sorts of the yobbos culture, have let ted bundy and ronnie biggs take full control
and ned kelly and the crazy ed gein, you see i just wanted to do tapestries, but, my eyes
were too tired, and i had to put power into these stupid people, who are doing all this
ya know rock fishing, and surfing, it’s herd to understand why, you see, at present i am
treated like a hooligan, but i am battling to keep the cyclones from really damaging the
earth, and there is some people stuck in an elevator, and kids near a poo,l, with high seas,
i know, it is a bit of excitement, but reality why are people allowing themselves to go out
and battle these evil spirits that caused this cyclone marcia, and elvis tried to keep these
evil spirits from killing with the powers of music, here goes
i wanna be, your teddy bear, you see i take out of my bag and cuddle you some more
i don’t wanna be a tiger, tigers play to rough, i don’t want to be a lion
the lion ain’t the type ya ought to love enough
i know you can be found sitting all alone
if you can’t come around, at least please telephone
don’t be cruel, just stop these spirits
i know it can be hard, but baby it it’s just you i am thinking of
and then elvis sang to ed gein ted bundy ronnie biggs and ned kelly
you guys are nothing but evil hound dogs, to trap these australians like this
you trap these australians thinking it’s fun to break the rules
you will never **** these people, no matter how stupid they are
you see these criminals can cause more problems, now they’re dead
ted bunny said, we are wrecking houses heh heh heh
we are forcing people to battle winds while surfing heh heh heh heh
the children caught near the rock pool, heh heh heh heh
people stuck in hotel elevator heh heh heh heh
ted bundy said, i have everybody fooled,
then said he is glad he is dead, because nobody will believe in stories
ted bundy ronnie biggs ed gein and ned kelly making these cyclone victims
think it’s exciting to take the kids to look at the raging seas
yeah, ted bunny is loving every minute of this, every minute, every minute
and even the eye of ted bundy and ed gein looking at the queensland coast saying a loud
HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH, foolish earthlings
cronus barry allan and buddha and athena, are pushing the cyclone away
but it’s hard to beat these evil spirits
I AM CRONUS
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
Outside lay the town,
asphalt fumes crawling into workers’ lungs.
Children ran through whirlwinds of dust.
I can still hear the ringing—
hammer striking nail,
nail biting into bone-bare wooden walls.
“Welcome to the teardrop-shaped island.”
Go straight and you’ll reach Cloud 9—
a surfers’ abode. Watch the waves
and you’ll see the sign:
painted camaraderie on a thumping board,
something they tried to climb.
Crystal water scintillated in my eyes,
a splash of diamond
glistening on my feet,
holding the euphoria
I hope will return.
The next block turns to a bumpy road,
where a bamboo cottage rests
beside a rice paddy.
Leaves whisper until the soul falls asleep.
A hammock sways a brooding dream.
A cotton-soft pillow sinks you back
to a place—
without mayhem.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Oh, phalo skeptic,
part your wave for skirted ***** surfers,
tho, trout, tripe, and titmice thrill thrice..
Will duct tape save us?
Urge the Zamboni machine,
to microwave ice.
Quince down that pouting sphincter,
Oh, the tides do swell
on the morrow of passing fish.
Wheelbarrow pious.
Swift, awesome biblionauts,
Fire! Fire! Pail, Pail thy watered pitch.
Know this, every potato is somewhere vane ...
I'm busy now, rude duuude,
have you sweated a recumbent lout?
Indent chill mots,
Pete, I'm big in Europe, pal,
Have seen me dance the Macarena?
Fool, fool on that high hill,!
Take care when licking spiny urchins
Oy! I scare myself.
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 2:34 PM UTC
MEMORIES OF SAND
I gave up sweeping that year
Like a penance
As sand permeated
Everything in my condo
Clung to my scalp and feet
Blew in with the fog and landed
In my tub, between my sheets, the sink, the carpet
Gritted between my teeth in the early hours
When i would reach for her still
Before the memory would detonate around me that she didn't come.
I would follow you anywhere.
Morphed into
I can't.
I hate those dagger give-up words.
Unlike the sand
I reviled in coaxing the beach closer still
And sand blurred the boundaries of my life
Inside. Outside.
Past. Present.
Old. New.
I could pull the blanket of crashing waves around me in hypnotizing hues
Breathe in the turquoise or gray or navy blue
Of the mecurial moods of the sea.
Each morning ritual of coffee and perching 8 foot tall on the sea wall studying the swells and tides
I could palpate the energy of my spirit rising around the waves
Curling and mixing as
Aqua-purple-red dragonflies hovered at my veranda hibiscus that murmers truths
I do no want to hear.
And in all that aloneness settled a great quiet still emptiness.
Because I couldn't cry I'd go diving in the persistent waves of salt and kelp.
The cold violated my eardrums and for a moment I'd go spinning-disoriented and weightless-suspended
Surrender without air as the Pacific held me buyouant
Only surfacing to breathe like a Baptism. I was ok being alone.
And sometimes I wasn't.
As the sand exfoliated my old self I'd grasp hold of the new wonders of phosphorescent tide under a harvest moon
And the fading memory of her would rise like a helium balloon I held down for 2 hrs and 4 weeks at Surfers Point in Ventura
Then let her go into the abyss of acceptance
Like granting permission to the invading sand
Gathering like whispers
In disappearing corners of her absence
And leaned into the redefinition of myself:
Barefoot. Sandy. Expectant.
The memory of sand.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
So I was swimming in the ocean
the pacific
it was summer, nearly September but that ocean is always frigid
I wanted to swim
So I went in with all my clothes on and the water so so cold
I tried to imitate the body surfers and dive under the waves
but I got caught in the tide and pulled under
One beat
my heart pumps out
the sand the salt
the cold
I try to swim
up to
breathe
I hit the bottom
Where am I?
For a second that stretched into an hour
I thought I was going to die
With my mouth full of saltwater
And my hair waving like the kelp fronds
I didn’t of course
I found the sky
Never have I been so glad to see the clouds
And the sun
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
the
fellows
at the beach
waxed surf boards
out they did paddle
some had wipe outs on the crests
others tunneled through barrels
summer time is such a super time
to watch surfers challenging waves
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Chorus: The tides are turnin
and keep me on the rise.
Like the ocean waves,
splashin' - I won't compromise.
I was ten feet under, now
I'm holding on.
the tides are turnin'
I can feel this battle won.
Verse 1: The sea of broken hearts,
can't keep me down for long.
My pen in hand as I sit by
the ocean dock and write my song.
This tides turnin for the better,
I can hear the sound.
I can feel the melody,
that's turning things around.
Chorus: The tides are turnin
and keep me on the rise.
Like the ocean waves,
spalshin' I won't compromise.
I was ten feet under, now
I'm holding on.
The tides are turnin'
I can feel this battle won.
Verse 2: As the sun shines on
the water, and ripples to the shore.
I look out to the surfers, trying to
catch a wave once more.
The tides keep dancing,
like a rhythm trance.
the tides are turnin' I hear it
saying "take a chance."
turnin, swaying,
"come on, let's go!"
Chorus: The tides are turnin'
and keep me on the rise,
like the ocean waves,
splashin' I won't compromise.
I was ten feet under, now
I'm holding on.
The tides are turnin'
I can feel this battle won.
Verse 3: Don't stop, don't give up.
I will soar like the eagles looking down.
I will bury that old doubt,
and let it drown.
The tides are turnin'
as the dolphins swim, I can feel
the passion burnin'
No- I won't compromise, I won't disguise.
I'm here now, standing tall upon
the shore, I rise.
Chorus: The tides are turnin'
and keep me on the rise.
like the ocean waves,
splashin' I won't compromise.
I was ten feet under, now
I'm holding on.
The tides are turnin'
I can feel this battle won.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 6:34 PM UTC
this girl I know
who always wears summer dresses
and a smile
lent me a book on awareness
but wants it back before
she goes to work in a conflict zone
for the red cross in september
she travelled in a big red bus
to a surfers festival in donegal
where she worked
in the big red bus café
on her breaks she surfed
smoked loads of ****
listened to reggae and ate falafel
last Wednesday she received a
back payment from the social welfare
and felt guilty about it
so she donated half of it to charity
bought donkeys for three Ethiopian families
spent a small fortune on ingredients for a friends dinner
and paid for my vegetable soup
she stopped at a chocolatier
to buy one solitary chocolate
and then ate it hurriedly
while she chatted to
a circus guy she knew
about a party she had missed when she
was on the big red bus
while skimming through books
in the spirituality section
wearing her summer dress and a smile
she said she felt sick
from having eaten the chocolate too
quickly and was sad that she hadn’t
taken the time to enjoy it
today the red cross sent her for
a chest x-ray
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
my **** is like a monster
not dimensionally speaking
it's a monster like a wild little dingo
with a huge appetite
and some really mean *****
like kamikaze surfers waiting for take-off
with their engines on
when i see you
you are blond like something i might regret
you are pretty like something i always knew and loved
and your voice reminds me of a girl i used to care about but never actually met
your voice is perfect and always sings in tune
its midnight, really
and the band plays the last song
and they play it like its their last ever
and you say you always wanted a double-bass player
in your band
but i say i can play the banjo like the world is coming to an end
and "baby its cold outside"
yes it is colder than it ever was
but its OK
you got a bike
i live around the corner
so its goodnight from me
me
the out of order gentle ****** predator
the ***** watchman that just switched-off the lights
the good lieutenant of the debauched night shift
me, with a heart as big as the Pacific
and a smile that says **** me pretty please
goodnight
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
Surfers like seals dot the ocean
Out in this swell, the salt laden pull
Anchors me in the wide bay
As the sand smooth as silk
Trails the briny tide.
I look back against the sun sparkled shore
As the footprints of my truth follow me
As I stand watching the waves break
And fall, their grey veined song echoes through me
And I feel complete now here at this
Otherworldy edge, the bold striped pebbles
Sit at my feet as unspoken words
More truths as yet to be undiscovered
Green dancing journeys stretch out amongst the waves
And this solitary happiness resounds silently across the Bay.
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
Now I lay me down to sleep. It is near 2:00 P.M,Pacific time.
I pray the Lord my sleep to keep. Been tossing and turning a lot lately.
If I should Dream before I wake. No March Hares if you please.
I pray the lord my twitch to take. Restless leg syndrome.
Goodnight Insomniacs.
Late night surfers.
Medicated Jitterbugs.
Jet-lagged Travelers.
Partners of snoring bed mates. With or without earplugs.
Late night ruminators.
Wanna be fornicators.
See ya later Nocturnal alligators.
Inspiration is but a breath away.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
As I sit here just chewing the cud
Nights lost and debauched with my friend Richard
Picking up that guitar as a kid from Cash Converters
He left me for the sun down under with the students and the surfers
E Minor through to a chord named A Sharp
Strangling that neck with fingers that don’t know where to start
I should have listened to Mr Hogarth for this career in its finest form
Rocking out on stage wow that would have been a storm
But it’s never too late to try and give it another go
Read music they say but I wouldn’t know my **** from my elbow
No, no, no, that’s not the attitude
I’ll plug this thing and never give up as someday I’ll fill those smoky rooms
I joined a band with 2 brothers and bassist of whom I did not know
Mill Hill practice every Sunday just thought I’d give it a go
But only one song and a commitment I could not keep it was always bound to fail
I’ll carry on solo still looking on but really just chasing my own tail
Work carried on as a plumber of which I never did really enjoy
But it paid the bills
A mortgage
A van
And a wedding on the horizon
All in sight except for that unseen tree which nearly stopped me from ever rising
Paraplegic is a word I had rarely ever used
you’re a ******* a **** I had said once myself how dare I have used that abuse
To be told you will never walk again is a shot that broke my heart
Don’t let it get you down be strong and try for a brand new start
The days go by at the start of this new journey
The loss of once friends and to gain some new is now what must ground me
A different perspective and a sharper humour has now unveiled
Hello new world you won’t get me down just watch this beast unravel
Taking the good with the bad and filtering through the ugly
A different ship to now set sail, get ready for this could get choppy
But as I say and always repeat, life goes on its just how you take it
This second chance given to me a bit lower down, but still determined to make it,
Hey Mr Wheelchair.
JJB
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
dizzied waves calm the haze
count the ways of perfect blue
hurried trees catch salty breeze
besting winded walkers by
sand surrenders to barefoot folly
warming and forming prints
a scattered sky drips a drop or two
nothing stays like perfect blue
see the sea shake
feel the heat ache
smell the sun bake
taste the cloud shapes
horizons breathe
shorelines walk
water talks
cream-filled crests crown the abyss
distant ships tilt and lilt
slippery wakes surfers skate
children trench
tanners twist
lovers tryst
caught by chance in ocean's glance
impelled to do this human dance
nature's floor a ballroom
its rhythm a rapacious hue
life cascades in perfect blue
©Jason Cole
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 1:17 PM 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
In my garden is a clean little pond
Fructified by tadpoles besides tiny fish
Where water lilies bloom by day
White and violet, a lovely sight
Over it hover pairs of dragonflies
They come in plenty on summer days
When the day is bright, soon after morn
To lay their eggs on lily pads
Like helicopters, they skim up and down
With their tiny propellers coming down
Sometimes like surfers over the aqua blue,
Perform rare feats, with brisk movements
Their filmy gossamer wings glistening in sunlight
And their bulging eyes reflecting iridescent shades
If ever we try to catch one…., sensing danger
They would rocket up, as fleeting flashes of light,
Into the air…. gliding and spiraling
Even in my sixties, whenever I spot a dragonfly
My mind catches up with those memories
When as children we chased them- ‘hush hush’
Trying to trap them while they perched on a fence or pole
How delighted we were holding them between our fingers
As they helplessly shivered thrumming their filmy wings!
Making them lift small stones double their weight
In their quivering thread like hands, a huge task for them,
Had been our greatest thrill then…!
Were we sadists……??
I still wonder!
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
I sat frozen
Watching three surfers
They wandered on waves
Beyond the riptide
Of the north shore
Each moment a destination
The rolling aqua
Swells pounding in my eardrums
The heart sound of the earth
Mountains of salty blue
Crashing
Driving out the thoughts of a noisy mind
Twisting and driving them back into quiet energy
Where I awaken
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Let's master the pipeline
Billabong brands my chest
Let me ride my dreams
On my board and your *******
No plans past tomorrow
Gonna live loud today
Put on that wet suit
And let's make love to the waves.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
are you there?
i’m here.
good.
i love you.
i love you too.
do you remember when
we nested on the
rocky beach,
surfers walking on water
our seagull thoughts
drifting, dancing,
together
woven in the blue canopy
sunflower wilting
behind the curtain of tidal mist?
i cried then.
why?
because it reminded me,
someday the night will fall and
never get up.
you know,
without you
life would be
a hollow place,
a sad place,
a dark place.
are you there?
i’m here.
good.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC