Ode to the Wave Rider for Jason Momoa by Stefano Donno

 In the salt-scripted scrolls of the Pacific,

where waves carve their own alphabets

against the spine of coral empires,

you emerge, Jason, as the tide's architect—

body forged in lava's slow alchemy,

Hawaiian blood pulsing like molten earth

through veins that map forgotten archipelagos.

No throne of iron, but a cresting surge,

Khal Drogo's roar echoing in Aquaman's depths,

where you wield tridents not of steel,

but recycled dreams, aluminum shields

against the plastic phantoms choking reefs.

Your voice, a low rumble from Mauna Kea's shadow,

calls forth the UN's blue covenants,

advocating for life below water's veil—

biodiversity's fragile symphony,

conducted in the hush of warming currents.

Yet humility anchors you, like roots

in Iowa's flatlands or Honolulu's fire,

a storyteller weaving gypsy pride

into films that roam untamed horizons.

Muscles etched with indigenous ink,

you honor the ancestors' whisper:

take care of the earth, each other,

in this hybrid verse of storm and calm—

free-flowing, yet metered by the moon's pull,

accessible as a beachcomber's find,

innovative as the ocean's endless remix.

Currents of the Guardian

Fragmented shores, pieced together

in eco-poems of protest and play—

Jason Momoa, polyglot of the wild,

your persona a cross-cultural braid:

Polynesian roots tangled with Hollywood's glare,

activism blooming like night jasmine

amid the flash of Dune's desert winds.

Free verse unfurls in your stride,

experimental metrics in the rhythm

of waves you defend—UN speeches

as spoken word slams against climate's tide,

metafores of mananalu cans clinking

like bells tolling for plastic's demise.

Achievements stack like stacked surf:

Baywatch beginnings to frontier epics,

fatherhood's quiet victories,

environmental hymns sung in Samoan echoes.

You redefine the hero— not caped conqueror,

but ocean's humble kin,

fusing digital metamorphosis with ancient lore,

a micro-poem of strength: humble, baby,

in the vast garden of monsters and men.

Roam the Blue Frontier

In linguistic loops, where words surf

unconventional swells, you stand, Jason—

public image a collage of brute grace,

environmental warrior cloaked in actor's skin.

From Game of Thrones' savage plains

to Aquaman's abyssal throne,

your career arcs like a bioluminescent trail,

illuminating paths for indigenous voices.

Hybrid forms entwine: activism's urgency

with cinematic dreams, metaphors drawn

from coral's fragile lace, warming seas

as conceptual flarf against denial's farce.

Authentic voice rises, cross-oceanic,

advocating for SIDS' sacred futures,

beach cleanups as ritual,

Lonely Whale's call your chorus.

Accessible innovation—your story roams,

unscripted, through pride of gypsies,

balancing the weight of fame

with earth's light touch: protect the blue,

the below, the beyond,

in verses that pulse like heartbeats in the deep