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  1. #11
    The flat spell is causing a creative explosion! I learned to play the drums last week.....
    It's like George Costanza when he stopped having sex. He became a genius.

  2. #12
    Join Date
    May 2012
    Location
    St. Augustine, FL
    Posts
    293
    Images
    15
    PhiloSurfer......thanks for the share.....very nice.

    ChavezY........it was yesterday while I was trying to get my first waves of this new year that I composed that poem in my minds eye.....paddle, paddle, paddle, miss it....try again, miss it again.....struggle for an hour and finally except the simple joy of taking the white water. I'm still a kook, it's just that I know it now.

    The flat spell always result in depression poems :/........my favorite poems come form from struggle.

  3. #13
    O Jellyfish kicker.
    Sitting in the murky waters.
    O Jellfish kicker.
    Everyone knows it's you !

  4. #14
    Join Date
    May 2006
    Location
    Lewes, DE
    Posts
    5,377
    Images
    121
    Quote Originally Posted by ChavezYChavez View Post
    The flat spell is causing a creative explosion! I learned to play the drums last week.....
    It's like George Costanza when he stopped having sex. He became a genius.
    haha... There are perhaps 2 outcomes of terrible flat spells that are evident through the Swellinfo forums. 1) An array of negative forum threads, and 2) an outlet of creative... Flat spells definitely seem to cause change in behavior.

  5. #15
    Join Date
    Jan 2013
    Location
    lava land
    Posts
    26
    " wanted to **** but only farted"
    hahahahhaahhaahahaahahah

  6. #16
    How about a haiku?

    O' Ocean City
    Dirty boil on my ass
    God, How I love you

  7. #17
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    Location
    Crystal Coast,N.C.
    Posts
    400
    Images
    24
    Quote Originally Posted by yourdirtymomma View Post
    Carpe Surf'em

    Floating in the tranquility,
    Ignoring my fragility,
    The ocean breathes beneath me.
    The rise and fall,
    The peace of it all,
    Time has released me.
    Waiting for a wave to come,
    Nothing exists but the One,
    An inspiration to me.
    Grateful for the pull of the moon,
    Stress somewhere far past the dunes
    The elements seize me.
    It has all comes down to this minute,
    No one to compete with, Iím the only one in it.
    No one can take it from me, Iím the only one that can win it.
    Thank you Africa, Thank you hurricane,
    Thank you struggle, Thank you pain
    Thank you God for a life reborn, renewed, and reframed.



    I like this one...........

  8. #18
    Quote Originally Posted by wave1rider65 View Post
    I like this one...........
    sittin on the beach
    starin at the sand
    lookin for a babe
    with a beer in my hand
    watchin the local surfers
    rip up the waves
    when im really only lookin for a couple of babes

  9. #19
    Join Date
    May 2012
    Location
    St. Augustine, FL
    Posts
    293
    Images
    15
    Quote Originally Posted by wave1rider65 View Post
    I like this one...........
    Thank you.... appreciate you saying so.

  10. #20
    Join Date
    Aug 2012
    Location
    Northern New England
    Posts
    587
    Ode to the Sea Pablo Neruda

    Here on the island
    the sea
    and so much sea
    overflowing,
    relentless,
    it says yes, then no,
    then no, no, no,
    then yes, in blue,
    in foam, with gallops,
    it says no, again no.
    It cannot stay still,
    my name is sea, it repeats
    while slamming against rocks
    but unable to convince rocks,
    then
    with seven green tongues
    of seven green dogs,
    of seven green tigers,
    of seven green seas,
    it smothers rocks, kisses rocks,
    drenches rocks
    and slamming its chest,
    repeats its name.
    O sea, you declare yourself,
    O comrade ocean,
    don’t waste time and water,
    don’t beat yourself up,
    help us,
    we are lowly
    fishermen,
    men of the shore,
    we’re cold and hungry
    and you’re the enemy,
    don’t slam so hard,
    don’t scream like that,
    open your green trunk
    and give all of us
    on our hands
    your silver gifts:
    fish every day.

    Here in each house,
    we all crave it
    whether it’s of silver,
    crystal or moonlight,
    spawn for the poor
    kitchens on earth.
    Don’t hoard it,
    you miser,
    coldly rushing like
    wet lightning
    beneath your waves.
    Come, now,
    open yourself
    and leave it
    near our hands,
    help us, ocean,
    deep green father,
    end one day
    our earthly poverty.
    Let us
    harvest your lives’
    endless plantation,
    your wheat and eggs,
    your oxes, your metals,
    the wet splendor
    and submerged fruits.

    Father sea, we know already
    what you are called, all
    the seagulls circulate
    your name on the beaches:
    now, behave yourself,
    don’t shake you mane,
    don’t threaten anyone,
    don’t smash against the sky
    your beautiful teeth,
    ignore for a moment
    your glorious history,
    give to every man,
    to every
    woman and to every child,
    a fish large or small
    every day.
    Go out to every street
    in the world
    and distribute fish
    and then
    scream,
    scream
    so all the working poor
    could hear you,
    so they could say,
    sticking their heads
    into the mine:
    “Here comes the old man sea
    to distribute fish.”
    And they’ll go back down
    into the darkness,
    smiling, and on the streets
    and in the forests,
    men and the earth
    will smile
    an oceanic smile.
    But
    if you don’t want it,
    if you don’t care for it,
    then wait,
    wait for us,
    we must worry, first
    we must try to solve
    and straighten out
    human affairs,
    the biggest problems first,
    then all the others,
    and then
    we’ll enter you,
    we’ll chop the waves
    with a knife made of fire,
    on an electric horse
    leaping over foam,
    singing
    we’ll sink
    until we touch the bottom
    of your guts,
    an atomic thread
    will guard your shank,
    we’ll plant
    in your deep garden
    trees
    of cement and steel,
    we’ll tie
    your hands and feet,
    on your skin man will walk,
    spitting,
    yanking in bunches,
    building armatures,
    mounting and taming you
    to dominate your spirit.
    All this will occur
    when us men
    have straighten out
    our problem,
    the big,
    the big problem.
    We’ll slowly
    solve everything:
    we’ll force you, sea,
    we’ll force you, earth
    perform miracles,
    because in our very selves,
    in the struggle,
    is fish, is bread,
    is the miracle.

    Neruda was the man. The sea has been saying an awful lot of 'no' these days. Ready for a three day head high 'yes'.