Beach
November 13th 2008 16:24
Summer salad days,
brightened by breakup;
schooling now seaside,
a campus of sandcastles.
Old Holden wagon,
wheezed to life,
weighed with kids and sails,
a pinto car,
tan and white.
Hiking down the highway,
hot Adelaide air billowing,
buffeting and blustering,
white gold hair mops wild;
windows down funnelled,
a furnace blast inside.
Our beloved boxer,
over-shoulder,
gasping and snorting,
slobbering so gleefully,
till traffic lights' tortured stop.
The taunting stop lights,
embedded in oozing tar roasting,
with bitumen bite,
filling nostrils burning,
in broiling still air.
Red to yellow,
then green again barrelling,
down the black molten road,
we yearned for,
first whiff of wave.
Soon, beach breath blasts,
with salty seaweed scent,
fills noses thrill flooded,
as we glide into Glenelg,
a palindromic place name,
same fore as aft,
so pertinent,
for a seaside's,
ebb and flow.
Air swum swimmingly,
with sea at last,
we hear its bellow,
crash thrash of waves,
sounding the sparkling,
deep hue blue.
Heady saltiness lungs full,
eyes and ears catching,
colourfully clad clamouring,
passers by waving.
Glistening tanned crowds,
chortles and squeals,
from families gleefully,
riding white horses;
flying kites to,
catching cricketballs.
Lurid frisbees flashing by,
callow lads skimming shallows,
wobbling on wooden discs,
then falling for free.
Carnival and sandcastle,
all merged by sea,
we lurch to yacht club,
rush up rigging,
then to battle,
upon high sea.
brightened by breakup;
schooling now seaside,
a campus of sandcastles.
Old Holden wagon,
wheezed to life,
weighed with kids and sails,
a pinto car,
tan and white.
Hiking down the highway,
hot Adelaide air billowing,
buffeting and blustering,
white gold hair mops wild;
windows down funnelled,
a furnace blast inside.
Our beloved boxer,
over-shoulder,
gasping and snorting,
slobbering so gleefully,
till traffic lights' tortured stop.
The taunting stop lights,
embedded in oozing tar roasting,
with bitumen bite,
filling nostrils burning,
in broiling still air.
Red to yellow,
then green again barrelling,
down the black molten road,
we yearned for,
first whiff of wave.
Soon, beach breath blasts,
with salty seaweed scent,
fills noses thrill flooded,
as we glide into Glenelg,
a palindromic place name,
same fore as aft,
so pertinent,
for a seaside's,
ebb and flow.
Air swum swimmingly,
with sea at last,
we hear its bellow,
crash thrash of waves,
sounding the sparkling,
deep hue blue.
Heady saltiness lungs full,
eyes and ears catching,
colourfully clad clamouring,
passers by waving.
Glistening tanned crowds,
chortles and squeals,
from families gleefully,
riding white horses;
flying kites to,
catching cricketballs.
Lurid frisbees flashing by,
callow lads skimming shallows,
wobbling on wooden discs,
then falling for free.
Carnival and sandcastle,
all merged by sea,
we lurch to yacht club,
rush up rigging,
then to battle,
upon high sea.
| 99 |
| Vote |
Comment by Morgan Bell
Science News
Deep Pencil
Business News
Movie Train
Artist Quirk
wobbling on wooden discs,
that phrase has such a nice sound to it . . . you really do have a wonderful way with words!
Comment by Michaelie
Flick Wit
Fog - I have always loved the sea, but you have reminded me of the sheer excitement a trip to the beach would herald as a kid. For me, it started with helping mum pack the beach bag with every possible item that might be called upon by three young children.
Michaelie
Comment by Bill Green
Talking Headlines
Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
a campus of sandcastles.
How true.
embedded in oozing tar roasting,
with bitumen bite,
filling nostrils burning,
in broiling still air.
Ooh how this made/makes the getting there so much sweeter!
This was so refreshing Foggly, I can taste the salt on my skin.
I guess I am lucky to still live so close to it all. and appreciate it, often.
Going to count my blessings.
Lilla ...
Comment by Mr Nice Guy
Pop Culturist
Pop Rock Factory
wheezed to life,
weighed with kids
Boy Foggy - that line in itself got me in.
I remember with fondness all the kids piling into the back of my grandfather's old Holden Wagon (before the days of mandatory seat belts mind you - rolling around, laughing as we made our way to our aunt's place at Manly Beach.
Sunburn, fairy floss, red handgranade drinks and seagulls, sandcastles and coppertone, ferrys and transistor radios . . . boy summers were great.
You've brightened my day old boy.
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
anyhoo, yes, callow clumsy lads; these discs were made of ply wood, were about two feet in diameter, and coated (usually) in marine varnish.
The idea was, to run fast through the flat wet sand area, toss the board before you into the one or two inch water line, then jump onto it, and skim across the water, for a few feet.... no wonder it was a short lived fad...so much energy for such a short lived experience!
tanx for the wordiness comp toooooo...
cheers
fog
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
I know, such memories, I was tired when I finally put into Orble form here, so I missed covering the other scents and sights, ... awww to be back there again... without the hideous authoritarian crap, the hideous colleges etc; just having lots of fun at the beach!!
cheers
fog
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
Hi Bill!!! very funny comment!!
But trust me, it will be a cold day in Hell before I set back on a beach looking the way I do presently!!
Last time was about 20 years ago, alone on a quiet northern beach, I was the only one there, until I heard the squeaky noise of feet gripping the sand, they had a couple of kilometers to choose from, so they set up next to me....
a small child and his mother...
I was lying on my back, eyes closed, trying to ignore them and go back to meditating on the sea sound scape,
then it happened...
"Mummy, she doesn't have a bra on!!!!"
I left it for a moment, a thought of offering to drop the little blighter into a nice rip crossed my mind momentarily, then the utter embarrasment of it all got me, I quietly gathered my stuff, and left the beach never to return again...
well I did go back once at dusk in Melbourne, 12 or so years ago, with a 'girlpal' who made me look like I was positively anorexic!!
cheers
fog
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
Tanx muchly, I greatly appreciate your kindness.
And glad you liked the melted tar reference, I don't know about Sydney, but Adders got so bloody hot in the sixties, everything would melt.
I remember, one time, tossing half a saucepan of water onto the hot dusty ground only to see it explode into steam and dust, an amazing site. And you could fry and egg on the car bonnet, but not recommended if your fatehr was rather strict!!
cheers lovely,
fog
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
Sunburn, fairy floss, red handgranade drinks and seagulls, sandcastles and coppertone, ferrys and transistor radios . . . boy summers were great."
Well said MNG!! I wrote this late last night, and knew I should not post it yet, but view it again today, as I will always remember other things, but you hit all the nails on the head!! That scent of Coppertone! Fairy floss! And red hand grenade drinks!! Also, pyriamid shaped waxed paper ice blocks/drink, depending if you ate it frozen or melted. What were they called... was it Sunkist? The Orange was the original....
Those days, without seat belts, life was like a 'boys own annual' for real!!
Fire crackers and slingshots... but the seaside, nothing could beat that, well, maybe the crackers!!
cheers
fog
Comment by Mr Nice Guy
Pop Culturist
Pop Rock Factory
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
But in Adders we had a drink called Palato, an orange drink that had real oranges with some pulpy bits, very nice, and Woodroofs Lemonade, the best.
cheers
fog