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The Wave

The Wave

The ripple on the horizon,
the imperceptible start.

The wave comes closer,
the wave reaches higher.
Now it’s upon him,
upon the tiny surfer.

High the wave reaches,
it towers over,
it gains a crown,
a boiling white crown,
and this great monster,
cold, cruel, curving,
picks up the surfer
and is smitten a blow,
a great white gash across its chest.

In attack the wave rears higher, higher,
higher still.
The surfer rides destruction safe to shoulder.

The wave curls over,
further, further.

Up the wave
Up the the wave the surfer strives,
striking at the waves great heart,
that roaring murderous great heart.

Along the wave,
back to the curl,
in the curl to strike the heart.

The surfer rides out,
unscathed but weary,
weary all through,
though his mind is alert.
Down the wave, another great gash,
up the wave,
beating, beating,
beating the wave
till it fights still harder.

Yet the wave seems conquered,
yet the wave seems smaller
and the surfer grows careless
and the fury unleashes!
It crushes the surfer,
it envelopes his board
and the surfer is no more,
and his board is but pieces,
pieces of rubble.

The crowd on the shore,
horrified,
petrified
at the sight of the surfer,
lost to the sea.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
One of my first poems, 1969
Editing stage: 

Comments

yep. you got it, Lord Byron

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

Good to see we've both come a long way since 1st writes. Not bad for a preadolescent. Too often their poetry is too self absorbed and not in a good way.................stan

I've seldom written self-absorbed poetry, sometimes wondered if that meant I wasn't a real poet! Turns out quite the opposite.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

This is exceptional work for a preteen! Thanks for sharing your first poem with us. It is nice to see where you came from. I wouldn't change one word of it, it is an accomplishment you can be proud of. You've got me wondering, were or are you a surfer?

always, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

yes I was a surfer, but haven't put my board in the water for ten years. You need a car and I don't drive.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

I truly enjoyed the ride. I have never surfed myself.
this is good for 12yrs old. but you can see that it is a begining because of all the repeatition of lines, especially the crown which was stated already
"it gains a crown,
a boiling white crown,"
Did you touch it up before posting here. it's just a question
but I guess there is no need to point it out you were only !2.
At 12, I was thinking about girls. Poetry had only been in my head when my mother read me the poems she wrote, but me write at that time not a chance, Girls and sports was the only thing in my head.
Eddie C.

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

there is a lot of improvement could be done but I prefer to leave it as a reminder of my beginnings

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

Okay - you are going to hate me for this. It has wonderful description. It lives during the reading, but it isn't you. I am spoiled by you. I am always expecting that WHAM! at the end. It's a good piece for a Sunday afternoon if you get my meaning. When you throw something at me make sure it's soft and extremely small.

Rottie - Kim

(V)

I won't throw anything at you but I may sentence you to (shock, horror) the comfy chair!

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

I'm already in one, lol! If I wasn't the review may have been a little harder. Just kidding. I love everything you write, you know that!

Kim
(V)

I just stumbled upon your write at age 12. It is an amazing theme and your mind at this young age of the surfer and those waves. Alot of metaphors in it and I enjoyed reading it. Now for a crit of a very old poem you did at the young age of 12 I will not touch for this is your beginning of your writing career. I think that is good for a 12 year old. My you had a vivid imagination back then.

Peace
Mona

it's a reminder of where I started,
thanks Mona
peace.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

have to agree with earlier comments about the depth of this piece at such a young age is, indeed, inspirational and surprising. hope i can live up to your childish antics one day.
wish me luck!

every day.

Ta, mate.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

Forgive me, but what does a 54 yr old man have that a 12 year old boy doesn't?

Experience.

The heart and soul are the same. Poets see things others don't see, and so inspire feelings that are intense, passionate and must spill out because there is no choice. Mostly we just drown.
.

~A

perhaps we need desperately to share to not drown in our excessive perception and sensuality. Yes, I know that goes against my my ideology of not glamourising artists, we are workers in a cultural context, but there must be something that drives us in a field that yields such limited material results.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

Your writing skills are showing. :)

Joe

I wrote this at age 12.

It is very strange to me that I have never felt the least inclination to publish. It is not fear of rejection, I court that daily. It is not just my anarchist ideology, that property is theft. I have only ever wanted to share my work, improve my craft and help others.

That's just me. I don't think it's better or worse than other people's approach. I'm not even sure why it is so important to me. But I do have an idea it is to do with how it could be a good way to conduct ourselves with each other and the planet.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

No,Jess. rarely read author's notes.Autobiogrsphy means nothing to me. The poem tells me whar I wannt to know [my strjucturalist background :)]. It makes no difference whenyou wrote this. It is the same "persona". You just got lost in "theory".

Now don't get bent out of shape. This is not the 'Psuedo-intellectual"horsehit you were producing. Mine is no longer- for the most part--the maudlin sentimentality you taught me to write.

publish? I did and the stuff is goddamned good.

Now,have a Merry Christmas"" and I hope to chat next year--maybe not for long.

best

Joe Longo-Geremiz

Do I read this correctly? "Mine is no longer- for the most part--the maudlin sentimentality you taught me to write."
I taught you to write maudlin sentimentality? I thought it was the opposite.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

Wrong syntax--you taught me NOT TO W RITE maudlin sentimentality. :) Anyway...:)

joe

Here's a clip of a groups that I joined in 2005 or 2006. There are two things I learned in my years on earth. One is gratitude for my life exactly as it has played out, given the extreme highs and lows.

The other is we are not here alone in selfish pursuits, we're here to make this world a better place because we live and choose to be *of skillful means* in bringing Bokomon's & Salman Rushdie's insights to life: "let your life be the poem that you write" and “A poet's work . . . to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world and stop it from going to sleep.”

I don't often wake up totally depressed and angry. Today is such a day. Remember, the more folks we reach, the better our chances of living the vision we all seem to share: peace, love and true democracy, else we're all liars and paying lip service.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=191YaEIgcRk

I totally acknowledge and hear you.

For me though, I wake up most days depressed and angry.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

As a poem written by a child of 11, it's very good. It shows you knew how to take your time and build up tension and create a picture of an event.
I don't see any point to "critique" it... you should just keep your early work, unashamed, and enjoy it and others from your childhood as part of what you were capable of then. Most of us have lost or thrown away our early work. Lucky you to have them!

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

I only posted it as an example of my early work, not for crit or change.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

a precocious child - no, surely not!
I wish some of the eleven year olds I have taught had such a depth of vocabulary and the skill to use it.
Caught the atmosphere of riding that wave and a nasty little volta at the end. Fab.

------------
Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

Nasty?

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

It didn't end too well for the surfer.
The volta per se was doing what voltas do.
Jx

------------
Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

I would have wondered what a sportsperson with a pole had to do with poetry.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

"Endless Time"
Freedom searching where to stay
Love wanting, soon to stray.
Everywhere they put you down
Life unfolding, this I've found.
Tareing, smearing, haunting 'til
Yet far away, it's there so still
Never stopping endless way
Beseeching wind, calling prey.
Yes I see I hear so well
wander far, this go still
Passing running eternity lie
On it goes never die
Persued with anger hiding be
On still chasing just to be free.
Time sonsuming, in my heart I'm there
On still further I must dare.
Pressed by time pushed by 'morrow
With the dawn goes all my sorrow
Intensified, grasping, crushing,
Soon ending, this be rushing.
Throbbing pain lessened to aching
Alone and hurt, haterid making
Now remorse takes place of sorrow
As for me; there's no tomorrow.

age:14
I left it just as it was, bad spelling and punctuation and all. I cringe at the reading :( cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

But Cat, please post this under Submit a poem and scroll down to Workshop and select 'poets first poems', so we can see them all from the same place. Jane, Gee, Keith, Wes and I already have and I expect more.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

It is very strange to me that I have never felt the least inclination to publish. It is not fear of rejection, I court that daily. It is not just my anarchist ideology, that property is theft. I have only ever wanted to share my work, improve my craft and help others.

That's just me. I don't think it's better or worse than other people's approach. I'm not even sure why it is so important to me. But I do have an idea it is to do with how it could be a good way to conduct ourselves with each other and the planet.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment

that too, I forgot. Perhaps spending many hours underwater getting beaten and pummelled against rocks and coral has caused some skull trauma and oxygen deprivation. [grins loopily]
Ta, mate.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

author comment
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