Surfing poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of surfing poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on surfing are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
*Whoosh* Thoughts embedded into my psyche unravel, As I steadily make my way out past the unabating white water. The pure, crisp, salty air fills my nose, lungs, and heart. *Whoosh* I cast an earnest gaze onto the horizon, Awaiting
Words are explosions of mind, Emotions of a heart, Expressions of the soul, Striking like a thunderbolt. Words are waves, The tides of emotions, That create ripples in the soul, While surfing over them. Words expand beyond consciousness, To realm
The advent of the new Century, Brought rapid strides in Technology. Obsolete, became MS DOS, Replaced now, by Windows. Standalones got wired, through LANS, On-line, real-time, brought WAN. Close on heels, came E-mail, To see information Sail. Mere surfing of
Stop! O, Way-seeking Farer! Here lies interred In total idleness life conferred By space and time; dreams by God deferred! God’s holy fool I am, I knew not how to pave Joys of dreams I crave but gave All of
I have no shepherd, so I must go on wanting I lie down in dry and brown pastures of pain I am shipwrecked on high troubled seas My soul is restless, tossed, and torn I’m heading aimlessly up a miserable
let it be yourself, the brightest of the sunshine that will become, survive, fair to friends and foes, the one and all,sharing the same world. in time of the disaster, the mind for good and the assistance, the nobility of
Miracle love developing, Instant love unfolding, Erotic love awakening, Almost too good to be True it does seem As In As In a Dream… Well and we know there Is a great force at work here It must be fate
There, out there In the street corners On the sidewalks And hung, dangling Are dreams! Cute and adorable Hot, yet fishy Dazzling, but foxy There, too many In the exquisite malls Draped on elegant idols Bewitching every heart Enticing dreams!
Or, at least that’s what you might think. Judgement hurts in too many ways to count. I stand in the local thrift market looking for trinkets and such with my father. He came here to look for vintage picture frames
Promises made, promises broken Lies that you told should never be spoken. The commitment, I see, was just for me so that you can live your life freely. You talk about trust, believing you too What comes out of your
Polliver Plum picked up bubble gum And with it he wove a spell Creating a dome each child could call home Inside where the world was well He travelled the land with singers and band Attracting both girls and boys
Rain, rain, rain! Please don’t come again and again. I know you are beautiful And for all the creatures you are wonderful. You are important for farmers’ needs’ You are favorable to grow their seeds. with your each and every
Experiences continue to haunt you Life events sort of taunt you Things to which you long said good bye You fear someday might say hi Heart had seen dreams shatter Thoughts said past doesn’t matter People continue to pull you
Some depth, my thoughts never touched, the moonlight fades on my window. The vague gratification, falls silently on my mind. Pausing on relativity, I open the door to eternity. Vast loneliness of qualms, like the cult of dancing doubts where
Like swapping your face for a tormentor. Stop the rains. I am going home, after a hard choice of peace in sunlight. Give me back my memory. I want to take a flight. Scanning the midnight sun on blue lake.
Between-Euphrates and Tigris, I was located, Ancient gods found home in me, Beliefs I professed were numerous, Yoke-I placed-upon captives, Life buried in religious activities-I encouraged, On top of hanging garden my beauty laid, Nations far and near feared me
a savage desire to severe off one’s neck, the song will get a name in troubled mind, to remove the stain on tongue of black spider, you will think again to commit your sleep for that beautiful death: guess what
Her love is like turning the tides away from the Docks at riverside in the afternoons and fighting Off horrific terrifying fire breathing dragons that Overwhelmed us in desperate times of weather Or not this is a fantasy, Depends on
he never used a typewriter yet the tendons in his wrist twitched like metal typebars, fleet, oily, tapping awful messages when he was supposed to be at rest – his eyelids answered as if scanning for answers those desolate webpages
I’ve lived in your heart for three years. My payments were always before time. If I made too much noise I assure you I didn’t know. My foot steps are often loud, the neighbor beside me keeps his music up.
I have heard melodies, I have heard songs, I have danced to the rhythms of heavenly delights, But each time I hear you, My heart skips a beat. I’ve heard the humming of the birds, and the chirping sparrows, I’ve
It runs deep Deep into the soul Deep into the caverns of the clan. Its lineage since existence. Always on the prowl Hunting for the one Vulnerable and welcoming. Knocking on the thinner walls Feeding on negatives. To find an
See the amazingly ironical sky Many stars are larger than the planet Still they seem to be some sort of fly I can feel my eyes becoming a electromagnet. Feeling the silence of the peaceful sigh Giving the problems yet
As I watch the empty spaces I think As I hear the frightened voices I ask As I see the mindless actions I wonder When will it all end? Idle threats and broken promises Empty hearts and expressionless faces Are
A distraught moon takes a misstep and goes behind the hill to take a holy bath. Disconnects with a trespasser and sends to night, a bouquet of stars with muffled prayers. Shades of lies haunt, in flames of faith. A
You’ll find her here alone, you’ll find her curled bruises shown. You’ll find that she is broken, words left unspoken, tears like crystal shards. You’ll find that she is insecure and fragile, sometimes hard to handle. You’ll find that she
To live in the moment, And not to worry about what comes after. To live in the present, And enjoy our time as youths, before it’s over. To not worry about the future, And everything that comes along with it.
the hunt begins after sunset under cracked moon, blindfolded clouds start visiting volitionlessly: the nesting eagles, I choose this bitter absurdity of large wings under the sun, where they will announce the shade, a lonely patch of life, of signature