These Lonely Beach poems are examples of Beach poems about Lonely. These are the best examples of Lonely Beach poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
There is a house on the cliff’s edge,
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
At night, the tide lifts high against a foggy moon
In the morning, gloomy clouds settle with the sea
At times, not even the birds are seen or heard
The house is left to nature’s caress
Home-crafted seashell chimes sway and sing with the wind
Crushed sand dollars lie together on the back porch
The shells were once whole, collected by the former owners
Long gone are they now, smiling with the moon
The owners are the very sound of the ocean spray,
Striking the rocks, announcing the cool dawn of day
They are not the dark, empty rooms,
The rooms that nobody thinks of as they go about their lives
The quiet owners are long gone—thought of only by one
A stillborn legacy about as tiresome as the sun,
When the clouds crisp out its beams . . .
A seawater puddle is in the middle of the dining room
Nobody knows it sits there, sinking in the floorboards
It used to be a far larger puddle after a storm,
Stealthily leaking into the house
But now it is small—so small—and the boards are moist,
Moist with its only companion amongst the instilled silence
Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
They were not much for socials and gatherings
They always lived their quiet, happy lives
Without a care of the outside world,
Far from anybody’s thought
Miles from the nearest home
Where the next generation comfortably lives
He never finished fixing that leak . . .
Sometimes the puddle gets bigger after other storms
And when it does, there is almost life there again
You can see the chandelier reflected on the unperturbed water
As a crystal dangles and falls from on high
The dark silence following the drop is as deep as thought . . .
Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
There is merely a house on the cliff’s edge
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
-March 21, 2013-
The Beach of Promises
Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,
strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.
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.
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.
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.
Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.
O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.
And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?
You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.
My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.
Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.
Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.
My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.
Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.
It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.
Four letters put together to create one word,
with an impeccable definition.
It is a strong word,
Close to the heart, yet
far from the woman you Love.
Butterflies flying, flapping their
orange and white wings in the summer heat.
The butterflies flap, flap their beautiful wings
together in the summertime of Love.
For Love is beautiful, like the summer preludes!
Four letters composed, to a Chopin's masterpiece.
The Romantic pole reaches out, to touch, to hold, to Love.
For these four letters are easy to read
and put together to create a complex concept
with a universal definition.
A four letter word, easy just to say,
but it is harder to show.
For Love is a simple word made up of simple letters,
but a complex meaing that takes most lifetimes to comprehend
and others a short while.
For I've seen hearts broken
and hearts put back together,
with this simple word.
My heart burned, brused, stabbed
knows the dangers of this simple, four letter word.
Love, some think it is a game
to play when you are bored.
Destroying self-esteem of girls,
who are already weak and nieve.
They long for love, but find surrealist dreams,
and see the Man of their dreams slip away in the night.
Gone without a trace.
While she is sucked into false promises,
from simple minded boys,
with only one thing on their mind.
Love..., it is a joke to some.
"I love you," is a laughing stock,
while a slap in the face, and disrespect is in fashion.
Girls, foolish girls walking in lonesome heartbreak,
saying they are in Love.
It is sad to see, and hard to hear, I know it is.
And to me Love is sometimes fair,
and most times a cruel joke.
Love, this four letter word is simple to say, but hard to comprehend.
Love me and I shall take you by the hand
show you caves of mystery,
and skies of grace and meadows, filled with flowers,
dedicated just for you, no one else, but you.
We can make Love on the sandy beaches, under the moonlit sky
under the still stars and shooting ones too.
Have a romantic dinner of oyster-shells and champange and kiss each other,
till we drown in intoxication and fall asleep in each others arms.
huh, Love... A simple, four letter word, that is easy to say,
but even harder to show.
Well we are already a couple of months in so i just wanted to say welcome.
this will be a new journey for the both of us, so i hope it will be awesome.
I will try to write more than usual this year, I promise. :)
What would help tho if you readers would send me topics and stuff to help me write about things cuz my mind goes way faster than my fingers and i cant think of just one thing. lol. so thank you readers. plz comment and tell me your thoughts.
Dedicated to an author by the name of William Golding... Enjoy!!!
~Two boys meet on an island
~~One is skin 'n bones
~~~The other one is chubby
They discover a lagoon~
Ralph teases him by calling~~
him "Piggy" - how mean!!~~~
Piggy asks him if
There are other people on
The island with 'em
He has no clue
But this'll answer Piggy's question --
Other boys appear -
All diverse shapes and sizes
What'll happen next??
Have you ever read The Lord of the Flies?
I recommend it if yah haven't read it yet - I must admit
It's a book full of adult words and it's simply...FASCINATING! - no lies
You should read it - or you'll regret it!
I swim to an unknown rocky strand, marooned by the captain's hand,
Up on the barren shore I stand, up on the wave-washed sand.
The sandpipers dance a saraband; could I like the birds withstand?
Held by the bars of a coral band, alone in a rocky land.
for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...
A fragile mind breaks
Wake upon the rock laden shores
A muffled heart begs to echo
Whispers lost among a velvet chamber
Dusk comes premature time and again
Dropping the curtain on an optimistic sunrise
If you never witness dawn
There is no tomorrow
Always the dreamer aches
Never awake to make real what he desires
The restless corpse walks blind
Dead ends seem fitting for one of the kind
Lost in the labyrinth of strangling vines
Love is the motive and the weapon
Taking root in throats dry from weeping
Sprouts of amnesia in place of smiles
A garden called heartbreak holds onlookers captive
The comfort takes hold, sets in the bones weary of searching
A plea for rest lands on deaf ears
The hollow boy tires of himself
The last request he will ever make
Lost and tired
He wishes to be weak no more
The Sieve of Time
along the banks of time,
whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,
clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,
trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.
flung aside for no discernible crime,
my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,
I stagger ashore,
embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.