Surfing in the park
By Robert Kingston
In the shadows of the
ancient tower
Through the moulton now
hardened gate
Wheels of thunder rumbling
on
To shrills do skaters
skate
Rising, falling,
weaving, stalling
at pinnacles, whilst air
they seek
Then over again they
practice
For perfection they do
seek
Starting atop a fulcrum
point
Slipping forward a
balanced drop
Down with speed, bearings
burning
Hot up until the ground is
lost
Dropping like a rock to
ground
Spinning wheels round and
round
A downwards slope where
wheels do rest
Carrying forth to depths
And back again to
crest
A tip of toe, a stamp of
foot
The board it twists, it
somersaults
In hand it's trickery is
caught.
A forward thwart
A jump upon a rail it's
caught,
As shrills skate atop
A balanced slide
A leap of faith sees
a trick complete
A skateboarders face alive
Copyright
Robert Kingston (2014)
You display the joy, the rough & tumble of the sport admirably! But the physique? Nice conventional poem, thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteHope the picture adequately compliments it.
Very descriptive. Very exciting but Sounds quite scary, but then Im not A brave 20 something!😊
ReplyDeleteI bet you'd love to join them Rob. Nice descriptive and constructive piece. Liked it a lot.
ReplyDelete