As I struggle against the pounding waves against my
board I fear nothing.
The wave's crash over me and I bobble up and down,
but I stay aloft.
I paddle for what feels like miles out to the
blue,black and green ocean to find my spot beyond the
So calm, so quiet as I see the next session of waves
rippling towards me as they are reflected by the hot
I feel safe when they pass under me and crash towards
Then one pops up just right, 'so stoked' and I paddle
for my life.
1...2...3 strong paddles to feel myself edgeing over
the curling wave.
To my feet I get in a second my balace strong my body
I glide my way towards where the waves crash into
The whitewash was around my feet giving me that ringing
beat in my ear.
I bail off my board into the galloping white horses,
for a thrill to be in that washing machine feeling.
To only a quick turn around and back out to sea.
Against that strong north easterly which gustered
from behond the sea.
So with little strength I have left I start to paddle
over or under the crashing white horses.
With thoughts in my mind of that previous wave, still
ringing in my ear.
To a new day a new mission to conqure that new wave.
Nor to big bor small, but just enough for me to feel
oh so high.
By Richard Chatfield
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