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The Surrender

HERE, in the new day's golden splendour —
Headlands pushing their foreheads forward —
Sweet is the surfer's glad surrender
To the will of the wave, as it rushes shoreward.
Nought in his ears but the breaker's thunder,
Arrowing on through the surf he flies,
Foam about him and clean sands under,
Over him arching the radiant skies.
Yielding himself as a toy to the ocean,
Locked and mute in its fierce embraces,
Thrilled and filled with the joy of motion,
Limbs outstretched, through the swirl he races.
Here, in the gold day's new-born splendour,
Sea winds sighing in tree and cave,
Sweet it is in a glad surrender
Thus to yield to the will of the wave.

poem by Roderic Quinn
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Grey

Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.

Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart

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poem by Diana Rosser
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Tikki

Met her in a record store in Downey
in 1963,
she was fourteen.
A coy smile and a round pretty face
golden hair and a yellow bow
over her ear.
she was quiet, shy, crossed her arms
and her chubby bare feet when she spoke
causing bedlam,
churning sensations, heart flutter
Miserlou pounding in my forehead.
Tikkis and coca mattes and “Angry Sea, ” Barefoot Adventure” “ Golden Breed”
posters next to a cut out of
Sammy Lee and his cannon ball wipeout,
pinned on sea green paisley wallpaper
In her surfer den bedroom.
Mindful to put my feet down
When her dad passed the open door
Or her mom came in with sandwiches
I had no idea what I was doing then,

[...] Read more

poem by George Murdock
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Realities Escape

Gravely i grimace
In knife-like pain
Living vicariously
In realities cold rain
Today i drive for
The abstract
The canned apathy
Of city streets
Once there i mingle
With torrents of humble
Strangers and soothsayers
I surround myself
By painless illusionists
Who show me the
Snows of Hell
While watching it freeze
Over
'Never' is an unaccepted
Word here amongst the
Throngs of wizards and

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poem by Theodora Onken
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The Stormy Sea

that boat was too small
for this trip to the other island
the ladies sat next to me
and they were all silent
to the sounds of the waves
just beside us and i knew
that with just one mistake,

one mistake from the boatman
that boat would have sunk
but lo, how the boatman took
the boat was kind of a very
skilled skipper of the waves
of the stormy sea like he was one
surfer in California taking sides
with each wave with so much
art and beauty carefully scaling
where safety lied and where
danger waited for an ambush

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Another Near To Perfect Day

In the sky the sun brightly shining the blue sky with some clouds of gray
On an afternoon in late October another near to perfect day
The white surf waves are gently rolling one reason no surfer in sight
And the silver gulls on the white beach search for food in the warm sunlight
An artist may well sketch such beauty and writers about it may write
By the coastal town on the surf beach there is beauty in peace and quiet
Today the ocean is not roaring no big waves for surfers to ride
The waves on the beach gently lapping so timid the sea at low tide
In the park the magpie larks calling the only notes they sing pee wee
And wattlebirds on the flowering coastal banksias their harsh calls familiar to me
On a beautiful day in the Springtime of around 24 degrees
And there is a cool sort of freshness in the cool freshening coastal breeze
Save for the silver gulls the beach is deserted and so clean is the fresh coastal air
A good memory to keep and to cherish and a good memory with others to share.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Bournemouth Blues

In the summer, in the baking sun,
Bournemouth oozes a sense of fun,
But in the winter, when skies are grey,
I have no real desire to want to stay.

Today, the silvery sea is surfer-less;
The wind on my face is cold and fresh.
On my face, I can feel the sea's spray,
As, along the prom, we make our way.

The beach beyond is now almost bare;
The wild wind roughly ruffles my hair.
A couple of people walk along the pier;
In the sea air, there is now left little cheer.

The sea is coloured like a grey battleship;
No kiosks are open for fish and chips.
At the seafront pub, we have a cup of tea;
We sit by the window, looking out to sea.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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L'internet 1998 with Khemi 0865

L'Internet
Couplet
L'Internet,
C'est un écran magique quand tu t'ennuies les doigts
C'est un écran magique quand tu t'ennuies les doigts
Et des images toniques pour éveiller en toi
Des mondes imaginaires où tu deviens le roi

L'Internet,
C'est un écran magique quand tu tourn's en ronde
C'est un tapis volant sur les réseaux du monde
C'est la souris glissant, c'est l'écho qui répond

Refrain
Secoue-toi les méninges, t'es plus au temps des singes!
C'est l'heure de l'Internet -
C'est toi même que tu fêtes!

L'Internet pour partager son bout du monde
Partout en France s'éveillent des envies très profondes

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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A good surfer will not get wet.

Hawaiian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Switch

Let me paint
You a picture
Or two just telling
You what I'd like
To do get a twelve
Pack and sit on
The beach and
Look at all the
Hookers I'll never
Meet there saying
"Look at me"
"Look at me"
"Look at me"
"Look at me"
Maybe I'll bleach
My hair or grow it
Out long I'll buy
A surfboard and lay
Out all day long
I'm the mammoth

[...] Read more

song performed by Unwritten Law
Added by Lucian Velea
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