From The Wave Poem by Thom Gunn

From The Wave

Rating: 4.0


It mounts at sea, a concave wall
Down-ribbed with shine,
And pushes forward, building tall
Its steep incline.

Then from their hiding rise to sight
Black shapes on boards
Bearing before the fringe of white
It mottles towards.

Their pale feet curled, they poise their weight
With a learn'd skill.
It is the wave they imitate
Keeps them so still.

The marbling bodies have become
Half wave, half men,
Grafted it seems by feet of foam
Some seconds, then,

Late as they can, they slice the face
In timed procession:
Balance is triumph in this place,
Triumph possession.

The mindless heave of which they rode
A fluid shelf
Breaks as they leave it, falls and, slowed,
Loses itself.

Clear, the sheathed bodies slick as seals
Loosen and tingle;
And by the board the bare foot feels
The suck of shingle.

They paddle in the shallows still;
Two splash each other;
They all swim out to wait until
The right waves gather.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 24 May 2019

hey paddle in the shallows still; Two splash each other; They all swim out to wait until The right waves gather. great poem. tony

0 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 16 June 2016

They all swim out to wait until The right waves gather.

0 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 16 June 2016

Waves! ! Keep them so still. Thanks for sharing.

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