Surf Poetry - A modest collection of beach-born perspectives

Originally from Cape Cod, Massachusetts, Bryan Knowles has been obsessed with all things aquatic for as long as he can remember. By thirteen, he picked up surfing and a year later made his first surfboard.

Introducing Where Albatross Soar

Bryan wrote his college application essay about board building and was accepted to Stanford University. Bryan graduated in with a degree in neuro-psychology and sub-concentration in entrepreneurship.

1. Cut: Vignettes;
2. Supply Chain and Logistics in National, International and Governmental Environment: Concepts and Models (Contributions to Management Science);
3. Airton Cozzolino and Jalou Langeree have been crowned 2018 GKA Kite-Surf World Tour champions..

From there he worked as a marketing consultant in Los Angeles and San Francisco for a few years, before deciding to focus on his true passions - writing and board building - launching a surfboard company called Ride Anything www. Would you like to tell us about a lower price? If you are a seller for this product, would you like to suggest updates through seller support?

We live in a world where new technologies are invented daily and the tools with which we interact, learn and live are ever-changing. Yet, one remarkable fact remains certain; that we exist at the mercy of Mother Nature and are forever awestruck by the humbling power and natural beauty, by which she affects us each and every day.

Where Albatross Soar was inspired by that fascinating truth - written with the hope of encouraging our children to appreciate and explore the great outdoors for generations to come. Written in rhythm with the sea, this beachside story is sure to become a favorite of your family.

Full text of "SENSE AND SILENCE: COLLECTED POEMS"

What does nature have planned for you today? Read more Read less. Customers who viewed this item also viewed. Page 1 of 1 Start over Page 1 of 1. Here's how restrictions apply. About the Author Originally from Cape Cod, Massachusetts, Bryan Knowles has been obsessed with all things aquatic for as long as he can remember. Start reading Where Albatross Soar - A beachside story of waves and storms on your Kindle in under a minute. Don't have a Kindle? Our favorite toys for everyone on your list Shop now.

Try the Kindle edition and experience these great reading features: Share your thoughts with other customers. Write a customer review. Read reviews that mention love this book ocean albatross waves storms bryan illustrations nature adults bookshelf. Showing of 12 reviews. Top Reviews Most recent Top Reviews. There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. What a wonderful addition to any kids book collection! We LOVE this book! Unmoved by the wind he sits on a rock wearing peace of the lake Unable to see his pale shadow reeling through vapour of the earth Night washes the sky-- the sun brings morning freshness to my window After days of depressing rains golden orb Her frisky bounce like snakebird springing its head in water preying Her eyes flash in dark the eel slides into her cave I watch the mirror They take off again their un thrown nets frighten fish- water turns whiter Storms circling within love is vision in action blue dot in deep space Sound turns fainter with greying geometry a rusted sign Hope in hidden words the invisible essence nearer dawn's glory The mountain doesn't know the river flows through its skin now stains memory Filling emptiness of the room with ikebana A fly flying in IC free of cost On a sheet of ice the chick trying to free itself from its mother's claws Two souls celebrate sailing on flames of white light new millennium The lone hibiscus waits for the sun to bloom: Rain-soaked sun sheds its sultry light-- her bare back Dew drop on a blade of grass rainbow A child's fingers feel the butterfly lying one with yellow leaves Shell -shocked or frozen he stands in tears on hilltop craving nirvana A dead leaf hangs by a spider's thread invisible in sun Staring at each other two fishes in half -filled tank ready for truce Only two of us- and a big house with roaming rats and cockroaches Meditation cell phone rings love echoes No god appears in the dark of my closed eyes— dream-image falters The little toddler with her fey appearance: Seeking good news I watch the lines on my palms taking new turns We meet again in the album ever fresh her memory Tending the hooks she blushes to see the line of jewels The half moon on her neck reminds of love before departure Her trilling laugh on the phone- spring love Falling leaves-- a sheet of autumn in the courtyard They all look for a little more moon coming back from movie Waves of mist shine with sun the day resumes laughter shakes each bough Fearing allergies he misses full moon party savours white light After morning walk the trio gossip each day fresh revelation The holy Ganges tolerates the city's garbage even rape and death Greeting the first rains after months of soaring heat-- the lone mango falls Exploring the world in haiku silence God an event The string of life lost in the knots of small things: Sweeping gelled leaves they raise dust in my compound agitate windpipe The lone letter box rusting in rain for years none come to open Prolonged rains keep dahlias from blooming- seeds die again Shining on rose-leaves silken layer of dew drops: Chilly wind slaps the window panes closed to keep cross-legged couples warm Cloud over cloud darken earth and hide stars: Red oleander and hibiscus calling morning to Kali Making love she presses with her nails: After lunch stretching legs in cubby-hole: Love tickles with erect pistil: Without washing hands he touches hibiscus for worship: After little rain lilies smile with hibiscus- the sun in May Too short can't reach the height: Around falling leaves a lone dreaming flower- mid-February 9.

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Stands alone in the assembly of flowers- Valentine' s Day Not sad to die blooming after a day's rain- the mushroom A frog in the drain stares at the traffic light turning green December morning — the first roses in the lawn: Leaves sway to fly like birds free in the sky Waving down a leaf settles between her breasts All night trees wave with roaring winds: Bluebells and hazels lost in rustic kisses: On a lean branch of neem swinging a bulbul The courtyard stormed with dried leaves and tamarind: From tree to courtyard cotton balls blown on the wind- seed in the centre Her scarf — a rainbow of flowers moving in the sky Her visit — a transient painting on holiday's floor Painting mom's smile with broken crayons — smiling Winny Intruding her voice on the phone Switching on the hearing aid: With her saree hitched up between the legs my wife in bed Raising her saree above the thighs bends to ease and blocks my way Rising early to make tea for everyone the newly wed wife As the duo sit lights go out — sofa springs creaking Dissatisfied with each other the two of us in an empty house In the grey of dusk sway between hope and despair their dream promises Leaning sideways she looks at mango picklt caries ache She repeats my ills to express her anger but I know only her love Basking in the sun files nails in garden chair my wife's friend No joy in lighting the candles this Diwali: Awaits his son's phone call from the border: His son's voice not relayed by wire: Distance mounts each time he visits home: Shadow of age on the wall — second full moon Whiteness of the moon and rocks howl with the wind- December in the veins The sun not yet set but the full moon rises as if in a hurry Enveloping all of the moon at night- white chrysanthemums Setting moon leaves behind sparkle on the waves Noisy birds don't let me sleep: Through the window gaze at the moon hid behind cloud after cloud Caressing her pregnant belly — water lily Still night nude kisses in park images haunt Standing behind the window bars observes darkness in shapes Night bombing leaves the garden white as death Vultures waiting for the leftovers of the sacrifice In the ruins searching her photo: Rutting dogs sleepless the whole night cries for sex Parents pelt stones at the mating street dogs- nosey children Nothing changes the night's ugliness in the lone bed Alone in a shrunken bed aged love In the well studying her image a woman Knitting silence my wife on the bench after lunch The lone mushroom — a pregnant woman stares out of the window Under the tree in meditation sunken a lone stone Alone on the National Highway Hanuman So many headlights and my myopic vision- walking difficult They walk on red coal matching steps with drum-beats: Keeps him sleepless fireworks and high decibel puja all night Sleeping on the cold floor a mother with child Awaits sunrise to hire an auto safely sits at the bus stand Two women argue over price and weight offish: Carbon flakes drift high above the flat I cough they widen the roads Burning tap water and seething house in the morning heat wave cripples Chanting mantra with wine in one hand and torch in other Building bridges where there is no river— the politician A mother and child stuck between concrete rubbles: Setting ablaze Muslim houses and children seekers of Ram White-yellow trail the Mirage on mission: Amidst roaring guns clouds blossom snow lotus: On the margin of home-to-work-to-home routine — life's achievements Shivering in the cold young boys sell balloons late night- New Year revellers Journeying tries to raise his silence to prayer Never enough the earth's hunger for graves: In measured pace hit for divinity two political golfers Disposable blades one over the other- dusty switchboard Seismic lab a network of cobweb: No Zen thought — scribbling haiku with gun in hand Staring at the huge stone penis at Shinto shrine- two female lovers With her breasts bobbing up and down she challenges the moon as she walks Sees the eyes in walls as I rise to kiss her Drowned in empty whiteness: Wiping tears from each other's eyes two souls in love Writing with strands of watery hair on her back a love haiku Love of three decades extinguished in a moment- anger in the mouth Shedding bitterness of the tiff in sex act she and I Moist lips parting on a tea cup promising expectation Bending down to pick up apple she presses piercing embrace She preys the body behind obsidian sheath fatuous flap After burns leaving the body the dead skin Her palms the only lingerie in Fashion Show Crouching out of the bath with hand on the genital his new tenant A pregnant woman bending over the mushroom bloomed under a tree Awaits the bloom of love in her womb: Lovely with hope the glow in her eyes: Her body — the night's perfection in dim light Seeing her a liquid sensation between the thighs On a canvas a poet in twilight painting her skin Sensing her presence he stares down the street- lingering perfume A star in making — but an island appears: Sipping gin with lime he says he loves sex each night but hates the smell Bleeding fingers draw new domes of betrayal in windy matrices His tongue between the teeth- sudden sneeze Fed up with my sex she threatens to move to our daughter's room Leaves him alone to escape daily rape in bed his wife The bedroom altar no substitute for temple- sacrifice of sex Winter's chill — sweating under the gown her thighs and breasts Scanning her stooping breasts — the first night Measuring life with ejaculatory rhythm — envies sparrow sports Her thighs — resting place for my head on bed Trying to decipher the complex curves on my palms in the morning rays Fondling her breasts I incite a poem on her body A film of mist between my eyes and her image Locked in her eyes the bright glow of the goddess Melting in the colour of the heart the sun in the west A lizard shrieks before the climax: The blood passes through green veins I hear the heart play melody of dews Every breath love in action — fire in the hole No bottom reader but the shape and the lines do tell she can stir the soul The aching limbs and blood dripping between the legs: With his head between the knees he squats and smells the body's sweat Bones rattle to make a song of flesh in the night- togetherness Insomnia blaming her not old age Lies with her in freezing cold: Invisible jangles odours presences- twinges in bed Drying on the line pork venison and beef-- the room smells their vests Don't know their tongue — the stars beyond the mountains whisper among themselves While I lie alone shapeless fears rest on my eyes heavier than time Searching salvation a moth flies into the lamp: Colours sparkle in the morning's dew on the blooms- my breathing changes Nobody cares burial of my dreams in coal dust Besides allergies so many other complaints: Bronchial breathing — the only sound audible in the soulless space Cleaning dusts from the old sandals for a walk: Peeling paint from the drawing room- shadows flicker Seeing no image in the mirror of time- foggy blankness Hot bath or no bath — the cough persists unmindful of the New Year's eve Sees in a flash — opening the eyes takes a long time Linked with anxiety my comfort at his home: Fear of forgetting — car insurance premium paid a month ahead Fears the approach of night with him — twisting tassels In the lone room prefers haiku to yoga drinking scotch Sunday afternoon- waving into gin two drops of lime Difficult to change I am what I have disowned- dressing down salads The bed is short and the covering shorter — crouching alone Unruffled by passions and clamours — Buddha's calm Seeks Buddha's stone bowl to win the bamboo princess: Her heart a thousand doors of oneness Disappears into dust her last photograph Trying to read good news I look at the lines taking new turns on my palms Looking for riches in her left hand shortening days on the pavement They sculpture psyche in the city of dumb dreams: Pulling out white hairs she reminds increasing age: Still a child- embracing a breast sleeps her man Exchanging anger with roses: They all walk like shadows in night for themselves Lying on his table a few unanswered letters and unrealized dreams A little child chases the painted dreams on butterfly wings Two butterflies racing with each other perch on the wire Sudden rain drops wet the wings of a butterfly lying at the basil Lost my way again asking for direction: Locked between the cracks cockroaches in the alcove dropping their eggs Awaiting their turn to feast on a dead dog crows in a circle A crow hits the scare crow and cracks its earthen head A crow picking at the ripe papaya and another waiting A yellow spider on the blooming marigold weaves tiny webs Two lizards fight to mate on the wall — balancing act After the quake a dog sniffing his master's presence in the rubble Searching Christ's sandals in the pile of shoes at the church's entrance Traffic snails through the water-logged road I feel a manhole cover Dust mites devouring the secrets preserved in my diary Seeing my shadow three fish in the pond look for a safe corner Sitting with its tail coiled round sweets in the box a lizard A hooker hides behind the green letter box: Too heavy these man-made machines choking weight Students murmuring over the class test result: In the moving train sleeping on his feet the newspaperman Flowers inviting seeds of love scattered in the perfumed garden Looking for a prey a snake slides through the fence warmth of the sun Safe from sun under nascent leaf a gold fish With sunrise gone to sleep the morning moon Two dreamy eyes await the rising sun through the fogged window A sweating sun after the midnight chill- changing hues of spring The sun conceals aeons of darkness planets mirror in the sky Closing its eyes in the setting sun — the Ganges in autumn He sees art in her wanton dress- crawling curls A butterfly rests on the butterfly tattooed on her sunning back Setting sun leaves behind sparkle on the waves Suddenly rise the sleeping waves from far off- 'quake in the sea Swollen sea boiling over the head- roars increase The sun rolls on the waving Ganges- whitens love-hope On the wave's crest travels a fallen leaf- rot on the bank Couldn't erase the wind's soliloquy from the waves breaking on the shore Travelling back from the waves of bliss a foam-leap On the waves rise shells in accents lie with love — beauty on the shore Bathing in thousands they float lamps on her breast the river sparkles Knee-deep in the pond standing obeisantly nude worshippers Ends with ritual one more morning — sun-worshippers in the pond Awaits the sunrise in the chilly Ganges a nude worshipper Sees visions eating food of gods- mushroom Fills the void with illusions and self- names them god December almost over what new wish to add to Christmas wish list On Christmas eve santa claus takes leave — mist on chairs in pairs Standing between flowers Jesus on the cross Making holes in the wooden cross white ants Colours of envy stick on their colleagues' faces: Krishna offering parijata to Radha: Narada looks on The temple's dome in the flooded Ganga- empty kalash Fermenting spring in the arms of lovers: The cherry pink in the spring — a framed nude Embrace suffocates in bed — chill seeps through slit Wintry chill — enters the cold bed: Winter rain bends the roses low- lumbar pain The long night passes sleeplessly I deep -breathe the December chill Alone and sleepless count hours by asthmatic bouts- the long winter nights A part of the night hidden in the morning moon: The first night spots on the sheet: Long wintry night — opening the mail box for a date Vulnerable darkness of the opening: Seek my haven where the sky arches the sea— a white gull leads Stars mock his drinking alone on the cement bench: Spend our short time together after a long watching the moon Along the road in shanties they shack up — dreams in smoke Seeking smell in cactus flowers: Clouds don't rain coldly come and go- icy bed All night rain the gaping roof her shelter Sudden rain on the way home — a peacock After the night's rain the sky's still overcast: Through thick clouds sees an arc of moon — her belly Brightness straining through the trees: Lonely nights and days of non-stop rains — depression mounts Travelling on the wings of winter ill news Celebrating return of the light and warmth: Feels the shadow with wet fingers in the fog Slowly clears the morning fog — end of the year Swollen fogs ready to make way for the sun Her make-up spoilt in the evening mist: After dust storm rain alloys with cool colours: Waxing crescent searches the setting sun worshipped in water Sees beard shining in the mirror: In a flash trapping eternity- the camera Post-lunch solitude filled with thoughts that couldn't become even a haiku A sly lover ejaculates poison- sting operation With glittering diamond on the navel swinging an item bomb With a telescope view the lunar eclipse- midnight shadows Out of wood and stone he carves his vision of peace: Suffer animals with a peculiar smell: Crossing the shadows in the Indo-Pak match- thelast ball Drunken with force spreading the century's sore: Freedom to kill with faith in divine regime: Watches the snow rain with finger on the trigger: Reaching nowhere — ideas flying from the minds of top echelons Himself doesn't listen but teaches communication Her anger shifts from manure to cellphone: Winking at her in the dark — power cut Two peacocks on a dancing spree: Dancing a few muddied crocs: Nibbling a leaf between her fingers a dragon-fly A small frog leaping on my hand from the pothole Birds crouch in nests along the snowclad path — wheezing silence Away from home — smell of frying fish in the air Swimming afresh in the glass box two gold fish Peace in silence of the heart and body's cells: Weaving its nest grass blade by grass blade R.

Sad and dull his backyard poultry- fears of bird flu Mooching about a rose petal in the sun- a butterfly An orgasmic view from behind the car's window the Taj Mahal Perches nervously on the fence a squirrel nibbling its luck Wintry evening — my grandson toddling round room to room Sudden screech of tyres: Selling tea a mustachioed Mizo in shanty Awaits the train in November night — insects all around Truce between two lizards inside the light fixture Ten fish in the tank rising in twos threes or fours to the bait atop Hiding in the shade of toilet brush in the bath a frightened mouse Awaits a rickshaw under the gulmohar tree a girl with lilac Jumped over the head a sticky frog on the ground- stoning to death Alone the cellphone on her bed rings In the changing hues of rainbow in the east: Flashing a rainbow at the dining table her diamond nose-pin Sunlight behind the temple cloud's edge Glued to the rock feeling the river's cold flame my hands and feet Sun rising late slow arrival of winter feverish warmth Fallen tea drops reminding me of the guests last evening Empty shells about the quadrangle: English teacher Children return home splashing through the pool on road school bags on their heads Moving between the fingers of a toddler the first winter rain 8.

Emitting a mouldy smell her blouse Before parting she slips to the floor- raindrops fall From the edge jumps into the pond a green frog I wanted to do something none of the other guys could or would do. One day in December , he did just that when a storm from the Aleutians drove monstrous swells onto the shores of Oahu and created a day like no other at Makaha Point. There, Greg Noll met the wave that had beckoned but eluded him for twenty years.

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Hawaii State Senator and former world surfing champion, Fred Hemmings, was out in the water at Makaha that same day. Afterward, he described Greg Noll's experience as "a death-wish wave.

• Surf Poetry : A Modest Collection of Beach-Born Perspectives by Bryan Knowles (2012, Paperback)!
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If it had been anyone else in that situation, he would have died. Rizzoli April 2, Language: Chronicling the great creative years in the evolution of surfing, the late s and early s, this engaging volume documents the revolutionary changes of the era - in board length, in surf style and technique - through the images of Australian photographer John Witzig. Witzig was not only photographing the scene, he was part of it, a group that included surfers Bob McTavish and George Greenough, and his images reflect both that access and that intimacy.

In , he created a firestorm of controversy with a Surfer cover story declaring that a core of young Australian surfers had redefined the sport, as evidenced by his friend Nat Young's blazing win in the World Surfing championships. Witzig went on to capture the defining moments - the surfers, the draft-dodging back-to-landers, the radical developments of board design, and, of course, the waves, from Australia to Honolua Bay - of surfing's most thrilling period.

Soulful, poetic, iconoclastic, filled with rare images, this book is a unique look at surfing's cultural revolution.

Swell Read Books May 7, Language: