Massive wave hills were breaking further out than I had ever seen.
I told myself and my friend that I would stay close-by shore,
And go no further, no more.
Slipping into the icy froth of the rip express lane,
Passing familiar rocky point,
I sat on my board, just gliding seaward like floating royalty in a river coronation,
Absorbing solar praise,
Robed regally in wet fur seal like suit,
Laughingly shouting back to my friend enjoying the shore-break surfing:
“Check this out!”
Forgetting to embrace shoreline wisdom.
My mistake apparent within seconds,
I am no king of the sea.
Today the familiar merry go round rip
joyfully ridden back to wave riding position
Bulged uncharacteristically and pulled me near to panic,
An unstoppable river, impossible to defy.
I was riding a water chairlift out to liquid white mountains.
In a salty blink, I whispered, “Save me!”
Doubt gushed, poured and exited out.
I saw daughter, wife, scenes of life.
I heard a royal blue voice call out: “Keep going, yes further out.”
Each shivering stroke showed feeble faith
As the sets rising green and tall drew terrifyingly near.
A precious wave approached from an unexpected angle,
Birthing hope within—to catch it would be certain escape.
It lifted me up, throwing me down, carrying me in.
I rode that surfboard like a rapid-rafting baboon,
Arriving to the shore,
Whispering appreciation to the real Sea King.
School children wait, anxious for that first flake to fall-
“The weatherman said…” cried a child under her breath.
Workers share the same anxiousness, hoping the snow waits-
until they are home by the fireside with their lover.
Snow plow operators can’t wait, they have to be ready,
start their engines when that first flake falls.
And it is so beautiful as it coats everything in white,
Children rejoice as they play in the frozen fluff.
Parents who can, relax and watch the joy on their faces.
Then drivers notice that the snow is turning to slush.
Such beauty becomes an ugly grey mess, and yet, next time,
We, for some reason, go through the same routine.
sounds of revelry spatters the night split skirts ride high on corners trading skin for money eyes of youth through windows stare to lie on backs open legs - knees bent MISCHIEF ~ but never kiss the lowly have it tougher battering or death, risks lined up on the street calling 'honey what you want' are they empty remembering the little girls they were and how they sell themselves exhibiting their wares but who am I to judge the top girls don't have corners there's no mayhem in their world unlike the street lamp hussling tease and flaunt their 'goods' they do 'a job', as I do mine and who am I to say this is how they live their life from day ..to day..to day ©jmtacken Sep 2013
I long to write the words
That might just change a life.
I hope for beauty,
With every letter I place on a page.
I want to write with abandon
And connect with people
Around the world.
I want my words
To bring tears to eyes
And paint pictures in minds.
I want love to live in every poem, to
Reach across the seas and back
To touch a million lives.
I’m left floundering
Wondering if it’s enough
As I write from
This messy human place.
I want to tell the stories
We all want to read,
Instead I write the
Only stories I know
The simple, the plain
The unassuming beauty of a sunset
The quiet pain of a broken heart,
Happy to reach even one other soul.
It’s what we all want isn’t it
One way or another
To reach, to connect with
Another human being.
To prove to ourselves that we aren’t alone
Moving through this world.
q u i e t
c u r r e n t
m u s i c
d r e a m ing
m e m o r y
b e a u t y
r e m a i n
r e m e m b e r
r e s i d e