GRAND FESTIVAL OF THE WIND, SUN, MOON, STARS, OCEAN AT COLVA BEACH

Above a dark night the coconut palms loom,
All is cool, silent
The moon rises late, a growing crescent
The star filled sky glistens
The sand is warm and soft, feels a friend in the hushed night
White breakers in the distance, the steady arrival of a husky ocean.
The night is full of presence.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Searing yellow is the colour of sunrise
Green leaves scatter lights of the rainbow
The cool blue mist hangs above trees
The sunlight catches the sand from the land
Picks out warm yellow patches among white.
The fisherman eats his bread soaked in tea on the shore.
Mill pond ocean is the mist blue, the sky blue
The sun is warm yellow
The birds sing, the dogs play, the goats blare.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

The moon draws the ocean with its growing fullness
The winds beat the waves, toss them on the moon white beach
The night of the full cool moon is a fisherman's feast
Early dawning finds the fisher wives, the sea birds out,
The overflowing bounty baskets of fish into market aboard new sarees.
The moon disappears behind the edge of the seas.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Water flows about my skin, push it aside, out towards the horizon
Up and down on the billowing waves
Free, go to left, right, up, down, in, out
Fling arms and legs and heaving back through the embrace of water
Lie in the still beneath the troubled surface of endless sea
Eyes shut the peaceful water lulls me with its everywhere calm
Gently gently bob up and down
In sun flashing water under blue infinity
The distant land of green palms streches miles to the mounts' peaks.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Dark sea joins the dark sky of worlds away
The Seven Sisters, Capricorn, the Plough
Unknown worlds above the beach
In the flittering flame light
The yellow warm faces partake of the meal
Conversation of other times, epochs
It is all ONE to the galactic communities we know
It is a bond for the American man
The English woman born in India
And I born of two sides of the world.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

The end of a journey for the ocean driving to land
Sometimes smoothly, sometimes with a roar
The sea walls fall
Night of the new moon TUMULT
The brook that dries up in sand
Just short of the ocean
Is flooded
Gains new shape, new life
Its ford becomes deep, the surrounding grass banks submerged
- It is the grass where she and I pondered -
All recovered for the water that pounds incessantly against the earth
Dark mass of infinity
The starlight wash glows eerily about my body
Exploding bubbles, whirls of pure light
In unending water feeling.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

In the middle calm of day the sun hangs over the lowering line of green palms
Not yet has the sun gone above the sea
To twinkle and twatch your billowly thatch of hair
No midday wind to blow this hair in your eyes
Only the calm light catching flashing breaking waves
shooting stars of light a-rolling.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

We all watched the moon grow
Rising earlier and higher in the sky
UNTIL
One evening I saw the yellow green full moon
Above urchin palm trees, the twilight sky a deep blue
This colour of the moon is the stuff of plants and growing green
Unmoved by the passing of time the moon calls the leaves
Says breath, grow, in my early world ways
In my mind this yellow green light hints of endless beginnings and becomings
Till accomplishment and dissolution in a still star sea.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Sweeping sea changes in the heat of afternoon
The sea colour changes from mid blue serene
To the deep green
Of sun set.
The light first jumping on ever shifting waves
Then blazing with undifferentiated light to the horizon
Where the sun sweats
Sun set, the rich dark waves are coloured gold on green
Lap along the shore
Soon will come the night
The abandoned church alone with its emblem of the setting sun
- one ray of sunlight broken off -
Stands there in the dark
Everywhere the sea rushes noisily to the land
Advancing unseen and powerfully.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

The wind whips the tides
Patterns of advance, retreat, dissolve, hold
Triangles of breaking waves diverging from an unknown point
The new moon came with the winds
Striking branches, driving fish and fowl towards land
For four long days in the limbo of the waned not yet waxed moon
Growth hung mysterious and pregnant
Caught in a dim light of the celestial eternal
But now it is spring
Blossoms on trees, young dogs, young cats, young children
Three pregnant women and two new humans
All has changed at Colva Beach
The full moon will bring a feast.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

The power of a sea pounding the distant blue headland into its folds over ages
The remorseless ever flowing sea knows patience
The land suffers the blows of ever present sea and knows
its hard mistress, the ocean
The fresh water brook knows nothing
Of the salt taste of the sea
Now the brook ends in sand
One or two storm nights will fill its freshness with salt
To kill its tiny fish
The brook will one night be tributary of the sea.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Full sprung moon
Fish passion moon
Clear cool moon
Leaf blossom moon
Water pull moon
Stirring the hidden moon
Play happy moon
Fighting puppies moon
First beginnings moon
Death woman moon
Conception growth moon
Winter birth moon
Come back moon
Hypnotic tense moon
Accomplishing moon
Far round moon
Alone always moon
Ocean purr moon
Big blown moon
Joy song moon
Unexpected arrival moon
Stir and be busy moon
Watching high moon
Red stuff moon
Watery moon
Shining moon
Blooming moon
Crystal light moon
Most favoured moon
Baby's cry moon
Loon's full moon
Lovers' mooning moon.

Where the ocean meets the shoreland
Quivers from the depths race along the sand
In white tossing disarray.
Hiss suck crash smash thud whish swish band.

Orange violet sundown over
A pyramid island of blue
The sea birds fly south across the sun show
The finale, grand exit, DIP into the ocean goes the life star
The palm trees stand, calm in the bush grown dunes
A tree of thick ever green leaf rises out of the underground
Through the ford across the brook swim tiny constellations of fish.

My thanks to 'Eight finger Eddie' whose house I stayed in along with a floating population of 20 souls during the three months over which this poem was written at Colva Beach. The former seminary which Eddie had taken over is now the cafe and drink place where the buses turn round, Colva Beach has got busy, but walk along the sands a little way and not much has changed, apart from the five star hotels popping up at the odd spot. But the fishermen are still there, the natives, who have probably been there many hundreds if not thousands of years. Above all, this poem is dedicated to them. Moon worshippers to a man - and a woman.

Eddie died on Oct 19 2010 at the age of 86, he never returned to America, and was cremated with Hindu rites in Anjuna, Goa. Fare thee well, cosmic voyager.
Colva Beach update.

David Stuart Ryan

The Cream of the Troubadour Coffee House. More poetry including the thoughts of Indian yogi and swami, Ganesh Baba.

Link to Kozmik Press where you can order books of poetry, and which has more details of the writings of David Stuart Ryan.

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