"surfs" poems
I am a tidal
wave thrown and
tamed, by the moon only. Yet eternally
morphing, the moon, which
is never the same and,
always is. Pushing and
pulling and back and
forth and waves and
surfs and tsunamis
and ripples and yet never
stillness.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
Sun light streams through the picturesque windows
Cut to streaks through white cloth curtains
Birds chirp, cows graze, horses nay
Fresh cut grass surfs the wind
Flowers bloom and fill the senses
Breakfast feast a organised chaos
Coffee, tea and toast
Stained jeans, warm shirts, big boots
Goodmorning
Country kitchen.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 8:42 PM UTC
Go grab your wetsuit
your sunblock and wax
go get a clean towel
put them all in your pack
I'll watch as the sun beams from your face
and feel the breeze stirred by your running flip-flopped feet
I'll laugh as you shout "YES" and fistpump the air
This is us.
Our thing.
We.
Surfs up li'l dude!
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
submerge their trembles
the intoxicated stars of the night
into the arresting allure
of moonlit seas
under the shimmering cloak
primal flames of passion lovers invoke
revel stars in moonbeams wet
yielding liquid baroque
crash silver waves
on compliant sands of submission easy
gather bliss-tinted surfs
in starry ecstasy
flow tranquil waters
in the envelope of dawn's golden fill
glow in embrace of gratitude
souls two in fulfill
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
Waves swim like us , High or low , Big or small , Lovely or ugly , We swim in the same sea with Those waves .................... All surfs get ashore to welcome us and Some of us ride mountain-like waves To prove that they're great and wonderful ................................. All waves including those broken ones Swim into the unknown .................. We can swim like waves ,but Waves are stronger than us ..................... All seventh seas have different waves in their Big bellies .................... Waves travel faster than us Simply because that's the way with them anytime .............. We like waves and Waves like us too .................................. _______________________________________________________________
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
Raven crosses the threshold
Hawk, a protector and a visionary . . . stands watch
Together: a great change is gonna come
Raven sculpts the formless into shape, awakening
Hawk to an inspirational message
Together: a pathway to higher consciousness
Raven mines the darkness
For facets of light, where our true self is found
Eyes wide shut, eventually leads to our souls purpose
Hawk surfs the primordial forces of life and
Can't see so catches an updraft for improved perspective
Eyes wide shut, eventually leads to our souls purpose
Raven brings the ghost
Hawk brings the quill
Together: Turtle Island medicine
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
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.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
It’s evening
The hawkers at the station are loud
One is selling lottery tickets
The girl in her old dress, and new earrings caresses her earrings to feel their weight in her hands
She looks at the lottery tickets and wonders why people believe in them
A local comes along with a wave of people
She stands upright and surfs the wave to stay
She knows this isn’t the local she is waiting for
She tells the boy she is with that she had a great time
And he thanks her for a wonderful evening.
He looks at her face one more time, not quite ready to say goodbye yet
He looks at the clock at the station. It’s precisely 8:06 PM
The local will come at 8:08 PM.
He is hoping it’ll be late today.
He needs those extra seconds to prepare himself.
Certain goodbyes in life are harder than you thought they would be.
He looks straight into the eyes of the girl
And sees his reflection in her eyes
Scared of what he sees, he looks away
The girl adornes her new earrings again
She looks at the clock
The old rusty clock still shows 8:06 PM
Time had slowed down for her.
She feels the platform shaking
She fears it is the local approaching earlier?
She hugs him without a seconds delay
Surprised, the boy blushes. And continues the embrace
He whispers to her and tells her, that her earrings are pretty
She smiles
Perhaps this is the best way to say good bye.
The clock is now at 8:08PM and the local is not there yet
They both smile at each other, then look at the clock.
The boy can see the local approaching. He hugs her tighter once again.
And makes sure she doesn’t see the approaching train
She slowly slides out of his arms like sand from a man’s fist. He tries holding her firmer, but in vain
They both smile at each other and say an awkward bye.
She boards the local and tries to find a seat.
He waits patiently at the platform waiting for her to look out once more
The local is about to move and his heart is beating faster than the engine
He can feel her sight on him and looks her way.
She has a crooked smile with which she waves at him.
He waits at the station till the local moves.
He walks a bit with the local and then stops next to the hawker.
He waves at her one more time and watches as the train goes.
He looks at the hawker and wonders why people believe in lotteries.His phone buzzes in his pocket.
He has a big grin, he won the lottery after all
He walks out of the station with a jump in his step as he pats the Bandra station board.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
A short and an earlier popular poem of mine. Hope you like it! Thanks, - Raj, New Delhi.
THE SURF-RIDER !
See him riding gallantly the crest of
waves,
With dexterity and poise and flowing
grace!
He rises to descend, to rise once more,
As the waves keep rolling towards the
shore!
Like those surfs the Rider continues his
mellifluous dance ,
Be it in England, in Spain or in France;
Riding high on waves as if in a trance!
The wind churns up the waves as it rises
and swells,
As the Rider manoeuvers his wake-board
riding those crests before it breaks !
Like a gymnast he executes strong cutbacks
- to reverse his turn,
His spirit dominate as the waves rise and
churn!
He did take his time to perfect his art ,
Having loved the sea and the surf from the
very start!
He learnt to live in moments just like those
dancing waves,
Floating on their crests as his blood within
raves!
Those surfs like musical notes rise up and
fall,
Where some surfs are short and others tall !
Like a philharmonic conductor par-excellence,
He commands those waves with his skilful
presence!
Friends, riding on Time’s moments is no mean
art,
But like the Surf-rider one must make a gallant
start !
-Raj Nandy, New Delhi
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
ACT I
DAD: in his late 50's.
TRISTAN: around ten or eleven-years old GLADWIN: in her early 40's.
TRISTAN Dad?
Scene 1
Interior of a cheesy, unkempt motel room. DAD
channel-surfs the cable television, the remote in
his right hand, a cigarette in his left. He's
sitting on the edge of the bed. TRISTAN is on the
bed behind him, crying.
DAD
Yeah bud?
TRISTAN
Is Mom gonna **** herself?
DAD
Well, I hope so.
TRISTAN Dad!
DAD
(Chuckles). What?
TRISTAN
Stop! I'm scared. What if she does?
DAD
Why are you worried? I'm not that lucky.
TRISTAN
(Screaming). C'mon, Dad!
DAD
What? (Chuckles again, longer this time). I'm not.
TRISTAN
Dad, stop. What if she really does?
DAD
Trist, don't be stupid. No one who's really going to
**** themselves tells you like that. They don't sing it
out loud. She's whistling Dixie.
TRISTAN
(Sobbing at this point). Dad, I love Mom.
DAD
(Pause). I know, and I-
(DAD'S cellphone rings. He answers
immediately)
Hold on, Trist. It's your fat mother.
Hello? Yeah. Yeah, you have this kid scared to death.
Would you just tell him you're--What? Alright, Glad.
Well enough's enough. (Pause). Okay. (Reacting loudly).
Oh, quit screaming in my ear! Trist, (extends the phone
to TRISTAN) here.
spotlight comes up on GLADWIN, who is stageleft,
lying in bed and on the phone.
GLADWIN
Trist! Trist? Say goodbye to Mama. I'm going away.
TRISTAN
Wait! Don't do anything bad, please.
GLADWIN
I'm gonna swallow my pills, Trist. I'm gonna take them
all and I won't be around anymore, honey...
TRISTAN
No! Mom, don't!
GLADWIN
...so just say goodbye to Mama and don't ever...
TRISTAN
Mom! Stop. Please, stop, just don't!
GLADWIN
...forget that I love you.
Spotlight goes out on GLADWIN.
TRISTAN
No! (Looks at DAD). Dad, she can't!
(He drops the cellphone)
Oh my God!
(Leaping off the bed and fumbling with
the phone in his hands, he hurries it to
his ear)
Hello? Mom? Mom?
(He closes the phone and quickly reopens
it. He dials GLADWIN'S cellphone)
DAD
Trist, take it easy. She's fine. Stop calling and go to
bed.
TRISTAN
She won't answer! (Breaking down). She won't answer.
(Lets out a piercing cry). Dad!
(DAD lights another cigarette and pulls
TRISTAN onto the bed and under his right
arm)
DAD
(Rubbing TRISTAN'S back gently). Go to sleep, babe.
She'll be there tomorrow morning.
TRISTAN
But--
DAD
Ah, ah! What did I just say? Everything will be okay.
TRISTAN
(Calming, but still anxious). You promise?
DAD
Promise, kiddo.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
Abbreviations are obscure.
Aren't they?
But I bow my head in certain familiarity with the letters: A.S.A.P.
We have been here before, in yesteryear, today, and eternity.
It is plumbed in the unfathomable depths of what we call "space".
The diversity of experience is tangibly present.
I don't know about you - but I can just about cut a slice of it and eat it, right where I stand.
Talk about having your cake and eating it!
That is likened to the freedom of a bird of prey, as she surfs the thermals of the Great Expanse.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
Instinct becomes arbitrary when my willpower deters my integrity
Aspirations are mere illusion when my intuition exceeds my ailing grasp
A *********** creep of disintegrating fantasies releases
a
sense
of realism.
Nicotine surfs my limbs
as thoughts align with tectonic disasters.
Malice masks insinuating balance,
An inevitable roar of discontent prefaces
A cruising tune of initiated indifference
yet hope
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
Surfs Up
In distant lands
From Kuwait Bay
To Afghanistan
Arabia
To Pakistan
We all high five
As we hang ten
The ladies there
With burkas on
Will grab their boards
And surf along
The Taliban
With weapons raised
Are now into
The surfing craze
The Saudi king
Is wondering
With his wives
What they're missing
So he goes and buys
Daytona Beach
And has it shipped
To the Middle East
Where there is no more
Need to fight
As they sing Beach Boy tunes
By beach fire light
They're all hanging loose
In the Middle East
Even the Palestinians
And the Israelis
Who knew surfing would
Bring so much peace
To the troubled times
In the Middle East
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
I am the lazy
Laid back surfer
Lounging and living
Drinking cocktail martini's
With my disheveled hair
My parent despair
For what is the hurry
Making no impulsive decision
For why the hurry
With so much of this fun
In this beautiful sun
As I talk to Dave
Waiting for the perfect wave
When forces of financial
Destruction smash against me
Wave after wave
Wash over me
As I am a rock and
Nothing penetrates you see
As I am the cliff that pushes
Back at rough sea
As a thousand years of
Character are washed
In my rock face
For I am the perfect surfer
Simple needs, dry perspective
As it is only really money
Standing on my board
I remain on top
As I am always objective
Swallowed by no
subjective under current
I keep myself in balance
Never engulfed by emotion
Like the many that fall
As I sail over emotion
Like the eagle sails over sky
Wiped out before
I now stay on top
Because I know where to stop
And remaining alert in
These financial waters
For there is a slight risk
Of meeting great whites
I am the perfect surfer
And surfs up today
Well rested I move swiftly
As I seek the giant wave
The perfect cycle
As I slip into the tunnel
Of the perfect wave
With water and emotion
All around me , I remain
Dry and objective
As i enjoy the thrill and spill
As white waters splash I dash
And dance and play
On the waves today
Effortlessly gliding
I feel the blissful froth
As i am taken further
And further
Life would be so much easier
If we could all learn from
The perfect surfer
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
When did the world drive you mad
You angel, caveman, protégé
Surrounded by cardboard and insensitivity
Who told you your worth was determined
By riding above your painted tires?
**** the mockingbirds
Stay in your beautiful garbage world
Surfs ablaze, ocean waves swallow the buildings
And Bennie brought the jets, gliding in armored cars
Did you open your tequila factory up there?
I'll make sure to ask the tour guide
Or get a road map, when I get there
(Your head met your hands in a way only you could understand)
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
all your time putting worth on work
while the world dies and the hurt just surfs
blood and tide being pulled by night
cleansing cycles of moonlight
I can't mourn from a lesson learned
pigs demise at the end of the knife
at the end of the of the knife
at the end of the of the knife
I sit at the edge of the the knife
mourn from the lesson learned
all your time
make the money
I roll the nickels
yes you see this game it is mine
street flows full of blood
yes it flows with the blood of the swine
I'm a ***** a *** a hobo, a box car and jug of wine
bad and good they go together
must except one to understand the other
you see that everyone will have their day to die
just give it time
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Moving here and moving there
Moving a million miles
With eyes red, eyes dead
Tapping a million times.
It's no teleport, no airplane,
No magical ride
Instead of walking out the doors
In the pixels we confide.
Aimless tip-tap like water drops
Ticking as sound of time
Punching letters, beating keys,
Trying to make a rime.
Lovely surfs, lovely speed,
Not so lovely is sleep,
When the ghost of eyes
Stuck in the mist of lies
Screen to screen takes a leap.
Pixels here, pixels there,
Pixels all around,
Life here, life there,
Real life all gone.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
There was this movie.
It was really popular when I was a kid.
I remember this baby-faced boy, and the old bald guy.
The one from the 90's.
Well he was dead, but the boy saw him anyway.
I'm like that.
I see dead people too.
Ghosts.
Walking around.
Talking.
Talking to me.
There are all these, shadowy figures.
These outlines.
Of people that I knew.
There's one.. he's blonde.. and he's high.
His hair is twisted and wild and he surfs, on snow.
He tells me stories that I remember, but the endings are all different now.
He's different.
Just a shadow.
I loved him.
But now I see right through him.
He shimmers and disappears.
All the while,
so certain,
that he's alive.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
Hot summer day
by the seaside,
dipped in the sea
waves come
rolling, rolling
breaking into surfs
spraying out high.
A drop of salty water
reaches my ears
goes deep
and I hear
the sea start a tale
an endless one
about mysteries in its deep,
countless life, flora and fauna
wrecked ships, drowned bodies
mermaids, dolphins, whales
octopuses, sea anemone and more
endless tales unfold.
I am lost on the land
captured by the sea
still telling me its tale.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Words on paper, notes on sheet music cannot express what only the night sky can. For fire and ice eternally dance in the farthest reaches of time. An adventure, that is all the night sky is. It embodies the unknown, which we reach our fingers out for in every blink of our eyes.
The deep blue of the ocean. The great purple of the mountains. Nothing can compare to the ever lit darkness of the night sky. Where the light surfs upon its foe for all of eternity. The night sky is a battle. Light and dark, a large scale of my soul. Where one star flickers out another one is soon to brighten itself to humanity.
One night is all it takes, in the cover of darkness, to have worlds of light touch your eyes.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
*ANCESTOR SPIRITS CALLING
The other day u gave me your heart,
it was bleeding in a poem,
beating on drums and
calling to kindred spirits in the night;
describing the pieces torn
ripping u apart.
What’s that u say,
I am who I am,
but who is that?
U say I am who I am
yet this was stolen from me
beaten, ripped
torn away in eyes that
do not see the spirits of the Earth
or the dreary, continuous pain
carried on ripples of time
never fading,
still flowing
after all these years
of shattered life.
And yet u say I am
who I am,
but why?
Why am I only
who I am to you?
Seen only within your eyes
and point of view?
Seen, stolen, defined
by your Eastern skies?
~~~
Don’t I also walk a
path with streaks of red,
drifting, flying on blue sky clouds
carrying me to gentle streams
and sun set dreams?
Why can’t I also follow a path
that sings to me
from forest shadows
beneath a moon of my hue
and left scented
by my ancestor’s sorrows.
A path where the Turtle
speaks of the Earth’s motion
as it surfs a solar wave;
the Eagle drops it feathers
for me to find
so I might write
the Wolf’s howling story;
the Bear rears her cubs
to sing love songs to
the white tailed deer
and Blue Jays guard the moons night time tale
of how humans gave birth
to a world of pain.
~~~
The other day u gave me your heart
it was bleeding in a poem
dripping a life denied
seeking still a gentle setting sun
and gentle waters
not found under Eastern skies.
A heart listening to different
beats all at once
trying to decide who I am
as you say,
but I wonder,
am I?
Isn’t this something
I alone decide?
The drum still beats
the dream of no tears
of ancestor songs
pointing to the path
of I am who I am
knowingly,
willingly!!
~~Aztec Warrior/redzone 3.31.02~~
(written using pen name 'redzone')*
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC