Back To The Bodyboard…
Red flags, wild weather and sea foam’s nasty invasion blown
In like industrial spume, had delayed my chance to use the sea
From Saturday until Tuesday at Porthtowan. On that day, low
Tide was reached at nearly 1pm but the waves in early morning
Had seemed awfully weak. However, the ocean was enticing
And for me, it was back to the bodyboard…
I trudged down the sixty-three West Cliff steps, as the turning tide was thrown
Into high crests and I strolled out to the shallows, rather nervously.
I paid my usual respects to Poseidon, whose surf was aglow
In the autumnal sunshine but the hustling ocean roared a warning
And I hesitated, unsure of myself, which was surprising.
But for me, it was back to the bodyboard…
Stepping into the turmoil of tide-turning waves,
Felt right somehow and I trudged against the boisterous flow,
Before spotting a breaker, followed quickly by another
And I swivelled and waited for the moment to go…
I was thrown, I was launched, I was unwittingly sped forth,
Before the rush slowed slightly but was suddenly reinvigorated
Bu the following, larger roller which thrust me onto damp sand,
Exhilarated, excited, breathless, my desire sated…
Time and time again I caught waves and was spilled from my surfboard twice,
Submerged head over arse but with a smile on my pleasured face,
For it was all so worth it, as I was continually catapulted ashore, for I was
Back on my bodyboard and of my apprehension there wasn’t a trace…
Pete Ray
7th October 2025…
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