Stoneboarding At Porthtowan…
Waves broke healthily at Porthtowan, early morning,
As high tide approached and breakers broke, luring
Surfers into the ocean at first light, lurking like
Redundant water boatmen, hovering,
Attracted by the promise of decent rides from the swell.
Waves rushed ashore at Porthtowan, lashing and turning,
As they roared and careered up the beach, securing
Territory, its regular vengeance to take
And I picked my way through rounded stones, wavering,
A bodyboard upon my right wrist secured well…
I waded out, buffeted by occasionally threatening
Rolling waves, insistent like infantry across no man’s land
At Passchendaele in 1917 and they pummelled, intimidating,
As my feet plodded with care to avoid stones and find sand.
I watched closely, I saw my chance and turned,
Throwing my body into the surf, clinging to my board
And the wave surged, carrying me landward as it churned
Up sand and pebbles, urging me on until my mind soared…
I soon slowed, as the force relented and dropped me like trash
Into the shallows, where shifting stones lay in wait,
Like brakes to scrape my board and slash a fissure, a gash
As I came to a rocky stop, the sea abandoning me to my fate…
Pete Ray
8th November 2024…
I was able to prevent damage both to my board and myself, fortunately but underfoot was certainly tricky, wading out to catch another of Poseidon’s waves…
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