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Beach Life Poems | Life Poems About Beach

These Beach Life poems are examples of Life poems about Beach. These are the best examples of Beach Life poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             


Details | Free verse |

Waves on the Beach of Life

            

      soft waves ripple the water,
               they come and they go,
           sprinkling seeds of fervent hope

   gentle waves tickle the sand,
            they come and they go,
       leaving dreams 
                   of rapture 
            behind

             Boastful waves CRASH into rocks,
    they come and they go,
           shattering dreams 
                           to  s m i t h e r e e n s

frantic waves expunge the sea foam,
         they come and they go,
    drowning 
           hope
              as
                it does

    silent waves creep back to the sea,
they come and they go,
        a cupful of  
              tears in tow


--- I used alliteration & personification here :)


Details | Rhyme |

A Beach Without Water

A beach without any water is a desert
Nachos without any cheese is a chip
A ski slope without any snow is a hillside
Me without you is no relationship

A zebra without any stripes is a donkey
A fountain without spray is a statue
Valentines Day without a lover is a bummer
And that’s exactly how I feel without you

Please be the water for my desert
Please be the cheese upon my chip
Please be the snow on my hillside
Please be in my relationship

Please be the stripes on my donkey
Please be the spray for my statue
Please be my lover every single day
Please never let me be without you

(NOTE:  This poem was inspired by my 6 year old son.  We are going to the beach this week-
end and he asked me, “Will there be water near the beach?”  That gave birth to the first line 
of this poem, which started my thoughts in motion.)


Details | Prose Poetry |

Sand Castles

Upon a beach I came to stand
And watched a child at play. 
He did while playing in the sand
A point of life convey. 

With scoops and buckets he did build 
A structure tall and grand. 
And to the child the beach did yield 
A castle made of sand. 

But as he left, I do recall, 
Away I did not turn. 
And with the coming night would fall
A lesson to be learned. 

The tide came in, with force did strike, 
The castle could not stand. 
And I was shown how life is like
A castle made of sand. 

And man is but a child at play, 
His works they will not last. 
For all he builds within days
Shall be by time surpassed. 

Each thing we do, Each thing we say, 
Each notion we conceive,
They all to soon shall pass away, 
Yes, this I do believe. 

We leave no mark, we leave no trace
That shall forever stand 
Be sure my friend time will erase
Our days however grand.


Details | Narrative |

The People Around Me

Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.

Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.

My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered. 

In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised, 
But it is to be called someone, 
Who can be respected.

To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.


Details | Free verse |

in the sand

between the grains of sand
all my dreams shattered apart
a cup of my coffee spilled in between
 dissolved between the salty waves
 disappeared
just like a lost dream
between the grains of sand a lost life 
so things seem
no matter how hard I hold on
everything  from between my fingers slip
just like sand   grains
lost between life's sea waves in endless vain
one thing that would remain
that would be pain


Details | I do not know? |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.




Details | Sestina |

Premise of Joy

Joy cannot be raised as though it ride the back of a song.
It is a gift and for that we should laud the giver with praise.
The heart races into overdrive as the mind fills with wonder.
Our physical and vocal constraints suddenly are unbound.
The mind and senses suddenly to a higher plane are lifted
and our reactions no longer seem to need a leap of faith.

When we walk the aisle to say “I do”, we do consider faith.
I seem to recall such feelings of humility, my body in song,
in tune with the lilt of the moment and the suppressed lift,
of the shout building within me.  I offer ever lasting praise,
of the promise of one walking to me, to He whom I am bound.
As, in unison, all who watched us say I do, approve in wonder.

They remember their own vows, their own time of wonder.
I remember standing before the observation room in faith,
promising Him that if only this little babe not yet bound 
to me, already powerfully making my heart burst to song, 
were only normal, I would raise him to give Him all praise.
I loved the smell of baby powder, as the blanket was lifted. 

Days at our beach house, a respite which always was a lift,
from the day to day routine of work, was always wonderful.
To be able to walk on the beach and stand in awe and praise,
knowing that the sun would rise and tide would fall in faith,
as the sand dabs hid and the seagulls surround them in song,
the power is in Him Who made the earth and to Him is bound.

One cannot be a true southerner and not be honor bound,
to explore the beauty of the Blue Ridge; to smell the lift
of air rising from the basin gently through long leaf singing,
on the outcrop above, as the eagle circles in wonderment.
Exploring Chimney Rock and crawling through with faith,
the Devil’s Kitchen, giving such surroundings due praise.

How could one possibly contain and not express praise,
for such intricate beauty, surely every man is duty bound
to seek out and enjoy beautiful things which speak of faith,
those simple vibrant things which give life a joyous lift.
We need those things which fill us with so much wonder,
we feel our nerves tingle, our skin crawl, and heart sing.

A Life devoid of giving praise, never feels the spirit lift.
If threads of doubt are bound, life can be filled of wonder.
Life can produce such faith, our being delights in song.

My words are:  sing,  praise,  wonder,  bound,  lift,  faith
© 26 Nov 2010 For Deb's "Joy to the World"contest


Details | ABC |

Home is Where the Ocean Is

Summer is here once again.
The breeze is warm,
I smell salt on the wind.
The same sandy beach between my toes,
The same waters I learned to swim.
Sun burn on my nose,
To the Ocean I dive in.
I submerse myself in the waters of the Atlantic
Warmer than the West Coast Thankfully
Cold, I simply cannot handle it!
Further out I paddle faithfully,
For my mother ocean to keep me sane,
this is my therapy,
to soothe this migraine.
This place gives me energy,
a weakness with a name.
Pleasure Island, NC.
A place hidden with fortunes
and undiscovered fame.
Never could I stray from the ocean
my passions would never be fulfilled
and I would never be the same.


Dedicated to my Dad on Father's Day 2013
The man who introduced me to the ocean and educated me about it and gave me reason to love appreciate and respect it.


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