These Loss Beach poems are examples of Beach poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Loss 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.
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.
Do you know what's haunting?
Losing someone and hearing their name, voice, or you hear something that reminds you of them
And you go blue. A dark blue, but a beautiful blue because that's the best kind of haunting
A beautiful haunting its something you can love so much but hate even more.
It's rather sweet thinking of someone so much
It's rather real.
Who would imagine that my life would come down to the edge of a blade
worked and worked on stone, scraping off goo and removing the bites?
Or that when I tumbled and rolled in the surf, unsure what was up.
storm rolling hard against breakers that I would remain intact?
It’s breath holding time, while rain smashes down, winds howl and the stir
rocks you until you forget your name and then finally silence, the deep breath
sauna time arising with sun, I scramble for cover, glad my Teva sandals
prevent the shells slicing at my skin, I must duck down into forest
looking to quench thirst, handy filter bottle in hand to conquer
all the parasites and villains unseen about to attack what is left.
Forgive me then, Father, for I have fallen to worship my survival blade,
prying out oysters, scraping out crabs, peeling the papaya
for I drink well of thy wine, fruit of my body, rendered and purified
and wander as I will through this vast new place I’ve come
lost to find self, and prayer for the fragile web of blessings
that save me from skewered, smashed, expiring, but shaded by your love.
over waves of the sounds from the glass of the sea
comes a shreak that dispersed on a night that was cursed
and flys cold with a chill; it lands squarely on me
my eyes did turn quick and wonder about
crystal pale blue was the scenes only hue
hand to my head, filled now with doubt
but was there distress on that morn i awoke?
with the sands at my feet; on an air crisp with sleet
as the autumn sun's light had not yet full broke
the question that's posed in these ramblings you'll see
for she lay down beside during moonlight's high tide
why that night my love left, n'er a word spoke to me?
It ripples and waves.
Its soothing to the touch and it runs over your body like an invisible blanket.
When life is too much to take I run to the water.
I've thought about lost loved ones over the view of the ocean.
As the waves ran over my toes and pulled back it was as if God was telling me I'm here.
I see your pain. I see your passion. In time I will wash them away.
When it rains, it stirs something inside of my heart. I know that as this storm shall pass, so will the trials of life.
The pain will be washed away. All will grow new again.
Pain is water.
Joy is water.
Life it water.
Water is beauty.
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...
Midnight June the 5th 1944 me and my buddies departed Weymouth and put out to
To smash through Hitlers eastern wall to liberate Europe and make her once again
We knew some,most of us wouldnt be coming back
As we neared Omaha beach at 4am we started to take German flak
From high above us we could hear the bombers delevering there deadly cargo to
the enemy on the ground
The french coast was pummeled as night turned to day followed by the cargos
It looked like the 4th of July and i wondered if id ever see another one
Then our landing craft doors opened my buddies in front didnt stand a chance
bullets tore them to shreds and they were gone
All around me carnage reigned we were in a killing zone the bluffs seemed so
distant they shouldnt be that far away
I looked around me at my buddies dying or dead before me some motionless where
Something had gone terribly wrong we wernt even on the right stretch of beach
I needed to get to cover quickly i saw a sand dune took my chance and managed
just to reach
The day was breaking now i gazed around me as the dawn broke through the night
I felt sickened and appauled at what i saw ive never forgot that sight
And still the carnage continued as one by one the Rangers fell
Ive never been a religous man but that morning i saw hell
The Germans shouldnt be this strong here thats what we were told
But we had to get off this beach i didnt want to be one of the fallen lying
There were 36 men left in my unit we now numbered just 5
The other guys around me were dead or dying i was fighting to survive
But i was one of the lucky ones i managed to get through that day
Looking back to that time and such a terrible price my buddies had to pay
5 beaches were taken that day Gold Juno Sword Omaha and Utah
I was a young sargeant in the 2nd Rangers my beach was Bloody Omaha
And in my minds eye i still see the beach that day and the sea running red
I still see the tide washing up my buddies the dying and the dead
Historians looking back now see where the mistakes were made
Omaha bloody Omaha its referred to is where such a high price was paid
Nearly 5,000 young Americans and Canadians on that beach on that day
We must never forget them they and what they did and the price they had to pay
Omaha was the bloodiest but lest we not forget the other four
For they shall allways be in my prayers for today and for ever more
There's this girl that I know who misses her home
The place filled with laughter, her joy, and her hope.
This girl, she is sad, and I've seen her heart break.
She just doesn't belong here, and she doesn't want to stay.
When she's at the beach she just sits and she stares
Across the water to who knows where.
The ocean is the one place she has found on this Earth
That fills her with any kind of peace and hope.
Though still she is sad, she's not where she belongs,
But at least at the ocean the fierce homesickness calms.
She'll walk down the beach and look out at the water,
Totally uncaring of those who might watch her.
She knows she's not normal, that she isn't like them.
But she knows that they cold never understand.
This girl that I speak of, how I know her well. Yet at the same time I hardly know her at all.
It seems to me as I walk down that beach that
I'm never gonna know of who I truly speak.
Because as long as I'm here, so far from my home, my heart, my pain there, my hope,
I am only half here.
I am only half home.
And all that I want....I just want to go home.