My name is Lorenzo Lago – Zo Lago to a few folks. I live in Cayucos on California’s Central Coast.

I am a retired art interpreter from Hearst Castle, a nationally accredited museum in San Simeon, California. It was a great position for a storyteller. 

I received my master’s in education from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo.

I started surfing in 1961, and for most of my life, I’ve been living within walking distance of my local surf spot.

So, I’ve been blessed with many cosmic surf and beach days. My two children, now grown, added tremendously to my life.

I’ve been swimming laps for as long as I’ve been surfing. Not to compete (swimming or surfing) – only to expand my spirit.

Every story and stanza I compose is autobiographical, so if you want to know what I’m about, it’s written into each line.

When I scribe a poem about riding a wave, I want the reader to take off on the wave and come along for the ride.

I’m not attempting to stroke my ego.

We’ve all been there, riding waves in remote surf locations, getting tubed, getting crunched, and laughing it up with friends.

That’s what is memorable.

I’ve been composing verse since I was a young teenager.

Many seasons later, I am still stoked about my water time, beach time, pool time, women and romance, being a dad, and writing.

Some folks read, some watch TV, and some are on their cell phones. I compose verse.

The “The Beast Roars” poem below answers the question about a challenging condition while writing poetry.

The sixth abdominal surgery didn’t go well, and I began composing this poem after my seventh surgery at Stanford Hospital.

It was 3 am, and pen and verse put a smile back on my face.

If you want to know more about me, check out my Instagram page at @lorenzolago.author.

Gone Native!

must be the warm, tropic air
   or the furlong-scented breeze
but I can’t help it, I’ve gone native

I’m in the sea all day, and the ceremony echoes and echoes
   the salt water upon my skin, dried by the sun
my salty hair, gettin’ saltier

my attire, just some old surf trunks
   worn out, and kind of shabby
barefoot most of the time, so the soles of my feet, like leather
   though goin’ to town, the rubber sandals come in handy 
the poet’s honor, I don a light shirt not to offend the island women

I rest under palm trees for shade, and compose verse about moonlit nights, 
      dashing stars, the woman’s silhouette and the seduction 

+++

     In the clearing, I behold the expanse
Skyward, the mythical clouds, translucent 
Crescent in design, an August moon floats the sky 
     Mystic stories echo from another age…

Magic kingdoms afloat, drifting stars, galaxies and fables

     The gods of the night, the kiss of ghosts, and my open window

 

The Pearls of Neptune’s Garden

Coffee shop morning…
   staring out upon the infinite
 
Sailing the first light, the seabird in flight 
   No longer earth bound, I glide above
      the mountain expanse
      the ocean opulence
 
+++
 
I met the Buddha at the beach this morning
     we stood by the shore
The roar of the sea, flaunting our hour
     colors in harmony

The wispy wind, the salted shore, the silver and blue  
     With each brush stroke, the sunlit sea, resonant in prose

I glide the wave, I walk the beach, I breathe the magic

 

The Offshore Breeze

An offshore wind howls the land 
     thru the canyon, it swirls
The gust spins over, and upon the sea

Firm, I stroke under, and past the on-coming waves
     And shooting beyond, beads of water shower upon me
The sea’s sprinkling, I am now surrounded in a thousand droplets of salt water

Paddling on, toward the breaking waves, and in position…
     I turn towards shore and paddle deep
And begin to speed downward, and downward, off the bottom, and bank into a turn 
Driving now, I glide across the wave’s face

Onward, the blue canvas feathers…
     it’s open face, so ripe for exploration
I race through the section, and then another, and one more

My eternal filled with bliss! My spirit set free!… Let’s go get another!!

 

The Painted Sea

drifting upon the land, ocean, sky, and sand
the sunlit sea expands its arms

sacred light, sacred shadows
its heartbeat in each caress
tribal soul, and the horizon

time upon the ocean, the depths and shallows
the embellished blue, the seasons unveiled
roaring ocean spirits, the mysteries and truths blend so well

warrior wave gods are running havoc on the coast
glory waves for the youngsters
spiritual waves for the veterans

gathering thunder, and amassing lightning
the vast vigor of your spirit explodes!

I launch upon the sea, and glide the breaking wave

 

The Chant

Surf, swim, paddle
live and laugh

+++

Where Palm Tree Grow

They rest easy within the sunset
The swaying leaf of the palm, they float the breeze 
Silhouettes rolling the eve’s pastel

My spirit healing, I caught their whisper

+++

Graceful

Head screwed on straight
Everything in line, secure
I’ve set a route…

F**k, now where are my car keys?

+++

Beach Walk

Drifting upon land
ocean, sky and sand

The pulse of the earth, 
the rhythm of the sea, the blue of sky, 
and more

 

Coconut Rice

overlooking a deep blue sea, the palapa rests peacefully 
a gentle cove, rests below
the view here is vast, and beautiful
dawn and sunsets are always distinctive

deep water envelops the locale, so to get to the best waves for surfing, 
we make a swift passage through a jungle 

when making our trek through this dense wilderness 
because of the mosquitos, it’s necessary to wear a long sleeve shirt, and trousers
any exposed skin is attacked by a plethora of these stinging pests

this is the daily routine till we get to the estero
to get to its opposing shore, we take a dugout canoe to span the salt-water river
a swim or a paddle across the estero would be refreshing,
but there are stories of crocodiles that silently slither below the surface

we reach a pure white beach, spotted with seashells
the surf break sits directly in front of the river mouth
strong south swells hit this break with secret intensity

the wave breaks at a double peak that shifts ever so slightly
we paddle our surfboards into one peak, and drive through the second peak
this makes for a nice ride through the inside section
on big days, the double peak comes together as one farther out to sea

these are the days that I remember the most
thrilling rides and heavy paddles 
the surfing lasts for hours

we regroup on the sand 
reflect on the waves, and rest
we then cross the river, and again, through the land of bloodsuckers

back in the palapa we make eating a priority
we have been sustained on fish, but our staple is rice
our gourmet meal is usually coconut rice
rice with coco milk, coco meat and honey
our sweet tooth satisfied

these days my travels take on an altered appearance
they may not be as bold, daring or rugged
but the scenery, the inspiration, the sensation is just as grand

it is an exhilarating feeling to be riding waves in a remote location
the pursuit of surfing secluded waves still stirs the inner juices
yes, the spirit and freedom of adventure rings true 

today, my escapades differ from my earlier days of coconut rice,
but the treasures still float together in a harmonic blend of living the life

 

The Jungle

ocean
a narrow stretch of sand
and the jungle

a jungle that is thick and electric
it pleads and begs creatures
humans included
to look deep into its heart

the endless shades of green coax us to think 
we could live within its vines
sometimes, the only safety from the sun

but I do not trust those fences of flora
or the insects, reptiles, mammals
that wander through its night

the jungle always seems hungry
I fell into an adventurous lifestyle
but that doesn’t mean I dare to sneer at nature I don’t quite understand

years ago, I had this same feeling on a sailboat out in the middle of the ocean 
I just couldn’t ever get my body and spirit
to take the constant battle with the sea
it is very simple
sometimes our priorities have clarity
‘get off this ocean’
‘don’t go in this jungle’

yes, priorities and clarity
like finding one’s soul mate
the truth of falling in love
like parenthood
raising a family
we rejoice in how clear it all becomes

now, I will ride these waves
later, and with plenty of daylight
I will walk this narrow stretch of sand to the village
I’ll talk of surf, colors of the day
but I’ll leave my insecurity for my journal

 

The Beast Roars!

mauled by a lion, devoured by a crocodile
that’s how I feel
multiple surgeries, and within so few seasons
I’m worn out

the day passes as if it never existed
dusk, the following, I emerge from my bed 
my first few steps, fatigued and unsteady

I feel like the cowpoke ambushed in the saloon shootout!
the barroom brawl, and I got two slugs right in the belly!

exploding blasts, and stumbling back on my heals and out the tavern doors,
I collapse in the street
the gravel now filling my nose, and satiating my blood, soaked wounds
I lay there, near death

+++

floating through time, I awake in the desert, and alone
I can breathe, yet my soul appears vaporous

for one moment, I believe I am upon the gates of heaven 
or the hot doors of hell
the dreadful reaper, smiling the victor as he dangles the keys to his gateway
though, deep within, I sense the angels standing sentry about my bruised body 

off in the distance, the ghost advances
mounted on an Arabian…black, like the deep of midnight
the spirit gallops onward, and upon me, rearing the stallion, I sense his presence
his aura, grasping my soul

the hero, stretching the length, seizes me, and with ease, I am soon upon the Arabian
we journey, my strength weak, I can barely hold on
heartened, I grasp my hero’s cape, and onward, we ride

 

Words by Lorenzo Lago | Surfer, Writer, and Poet