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Beach Loss Poems | Beach Poems About Loss

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

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Details | Light Poetry | |

Cast Away

Cast Away
Waiting for you makes me feel
Like a cast away in Malden
So much golden sand
To slide my bare feet in

My feet feel each hot grain
Fills between each toe
Sun bakes the air around me
As I feel the warm wind blow

My eyes see an endless sight
Of such blue I can't take in
The waves, the crests, the tides
Loneliness, running thin

Waiting for you makes me feel
Should I hope you’d ever come?
I spend the day collecting seashells
Inevitably missing some

I’ll stare out into blue’s madness
Until the heat burns out my eyes
And never stop looking for you
Where the ocean meets the sky

Planes of rescue flew over me
While waves have eaten this coastline

I'm going mad in my sadness

Somehow wishing you would be mine

Copyright © Lauren Smith

Details | Ballad | |

A House On the Cliff's Edge

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-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

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 

             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,
                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 :)

Copyright © binibining P.iNk

Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Couplet | |

Blessed on a Deserted Island

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.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

Details | Free verse | |


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.

Copyright © brittney lopez

Details | I do not know? | |

Welcome 2013

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.

Copyright © Roman Chebukin

Details | Rhyme | |

A Day at the Beach

Here I am Running away, Walking at the beach, counting the days, I see the sun, I covered my face. Feeling the wind, I know I can't win in this race. I sat under A tree, feeling the sand with my feet, Oh how I want to be free. These days the problems kept me captive. These shadows of fears seems to be abrasive. I just want to stay, I don't want to leave, It's better in this Island, there are matters you can still believe. Clear waters, Aqua sky, I envy the birds that soar & fly. I want to sing another lullaby, I sat on a swing & a flashback pass by. But in every decision you have to be wise. I don't know why, but to me this is paradise. And now I lay down on the sand, A melody that should be put to an end. And again I wiped my tears, It's because of these unending fears. I am hurt, and I am weak, Then I looked up asking what to seek. Like a little girl I cried, I wanted comfort because I'm tired. Tired of seeing people lying, tired because I'm also hiding. tired of all these unanswered questions. tired of people with their exaggerated opinions. And I don't want to go back, cos I know I'm safe here. But God gave me that courage to fight w/ every fear. Maybe I am confuse now, and maybe not yet satisfied, But my Faith is giving me the assurance I'll have a balanced Life.

Copyright © Marianne Nolido

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON

Details | Acrostic | |

Lovers Point, LP Revisited


I'd watch the waters of the bay
mingle with the rocks and sand.
Failing stars misted in gray
Again fail to illuminate that strand.
Lovers Point won't understand.
Lonely people seem to like it there.
I watched them all as they passed by--
Nodding to my equals there,
Gentle ones who came to tearless cry...
For what? Only the rocks know why.
One night I left that lonesome band;
Reaching out to you I touched love's flame.
You held me close and took my hand.
Once 'twas a lonely place of pain,
Until you gave Lover's Point back it's name.


I stood above the misty shore,
My time was short as it was late,
And watched the reflections once more--
lover's Points nocturnal state--
Our meeting place of misread fate.
Nice it was when we were there,
Except there's no more 'you and I'.
Only a memory of a brief affair,
Not lasting long as it went awry.
Cold and dark: Lover's Point's sky.
Every so often it seems to me
My life is like the waves off the shore:
One special person comes near to me,
Retreats again, is then no more.
Even the Point knows not what for.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

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...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

love's drowning

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?

Copyright © Samuel Robinson

Details | Rhyme | |

Bloody Omaha

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 
deathly sound

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 
they lay

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

Copyright © stan bridge

Details | Free verse | |


The water. 
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.

Copyright © Misty Hoot

Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time

The Sieve of Time

Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,

Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.

Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.

Cast ashore,
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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Ballad | |


Ever long we stare to the East
The waters dance with glee.
Alluring at the very least
This symphony may be. 

We watch those who know this beauty
And those who seek Her cheer,
We watch those who know such bounty
Yet nigh do these folk fear

That this dance be a siren call
A cruel temptress awaits.
Such cacophony nigh to stall 
Virgin people from cold fate

For though Her waters can caress
Enveloped in her folds,
Some foolish bathers are remiss
In the power that She holds.

Hark! To arms! Victims call, 'Distress!'
This sound we dread to hear, 
"Go now! Repulse death's harsh egress,"
As there is ceaseless fear

That there will be tragic failure
An agile step misplaced,
That the Ocean will call once more,
With smothering embrace.

And so we navigate her waves
The pounding force beware,
The mouth of the Devil himself
Comes here-forth to ensnare. 

"Onward, dauntless brothers!" we hear,
"Against the waves we go, 
For there is one who was swallowed
Fight for his life so!" 

Into the mounting fray we dive,
Against the rising swell.
Now such ranks form to hunt for him
And pull from water'd hell.

Mercilessly, cruel time crawls forth
As lungs begin to burn,
Our hope wilts as it comes to pass
The point of no return. 

Yet nigh will we ever desist,
We will reclaim this man.
Duty burns as Sun o'erhead
To bear him back to land. 

Near the shore a whistle blasts thrice,
Do I dare to believe?
The call of a search successful,
A body they start to heave.

Hold for his life dearest brothers
Though the water crash down!
It is in obstinate resolve
That you earned your renown. 

Hold steadfast, continue the watch
Arrogant creatures we,
To think our meager lives our own,
They belong to the sea.

Copyright © Christian Smith

Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,

and dips.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

Kissing Sea Froth

turning to foam
tricked by a dream

lovers take
what they wish
they knew for certain
from the other

froth juts up
bridal kisses
vanishing from air
trying to make new love

Copyright © Brooks Lindberg

Details | Free verse | |

God Bless Old Orchard Beach, Maine

Step between the clumps of weed
and tangled traps of trash. Footprints
in the shallow face of the damp sand
fill with pooled water.

Look out, past the wide horizon,
the stretched, vast blue;
point to the pinpoint,  where the hazed
hot sky meets the bumping, cresting waves;

walk, in between the hordes
of Canadian  tourists speaking in clouds
of broken French

feel the dry sand hot
as it collapses around your ankle

“We’re walking to the palm reader —
                  Yes,       In between the arcade and the train tracks.
Come with us.
This beach never changes. The brine
still clasps on the wooden legs of the Pier,
as it always has. The gulls still
swarm down on scraps of fries. Empty bottles
of coffee brandy still litter the darkness 
of the Pier's underbelly.

Long ago, I thought I could see England
from this beach. Long ago,
I thought I could swim to England from
this beach.

Long ago, when I was a child,  I was a tourist
walking these sands. I had a friend who lived here. We would
eat pizza and bodysurf in the shallows…

My friend left this world.
He didn’t swim to England, or swim across the sea.

He floats above my everything, as high as the open hazed blue ocean sky.”

Copyright © Jon Bolduc

Details | Cowboy | |

The Beach House

I’m building castles in the sand
on the shores of a grey, grey sea.
The clouds have gathered overhead
and the shells are wave-washed clean.
Footprints wander down the shore
of the vast and vacant sea,
the waves are buffing them away
and turning the sand sateen.
Beyond the berm and the waving grass
inked upon the setting sun,
someone sits in a house of glass
as sand through fingers runs.

I’m watching seabirds dodge the stars
when the waves reflect the moon
and pulling seaweeds from the rocks
they drearily festoon.
And the sand’s run out of the fingers now,
and the drink’s run out of the cup;
the house of glass is quiet now,
all the shutters drawn up.

Copyright © Ashley Poort

Details | Narrative | |

Manuelito & Poseidon

Even as thunder boomed mighty overhead
and power lines on San Domingo Avenue outside
faltered and succumbed to the tempest
the Ortegas stood breathless in the family room, gaze transfixed 
upon the television screen like so many deer in the headlights of a truck.
Finally a flash from without, and a snap 
extinguished all light within the household. Ten seconds passed 
without a sound. Then the father uttered something and
the family members scattered, each returning a moment later
bearing possessions of infinite value. Within a minute, 
all had crammed into the station wagon, evacuation route ingrained
within their minds like a seed of hope.
All but one. Manuelito had been lost.
The mother howled and flied back into the house,
tears streaming down her face hard as the rain.
She reached the back porch, and to her eternal shock
found Manuelito standing alone on the beach like a mannequin
eyes locked upon the Cyclops-eye of the storm.
The mother cried out through anguished sobs
in vain, for the howling drone of the wind overpowered all
and when Manuelito turned around to face all that he loved
he did so with all the finality of a grown man
resolved upon his course of action.
The mother abruptly ceased her crying, and
her countenance briefly matched that of her son
as she, too, turned her gaze upon the jewel center of the storm
and was hypnotized by the awesome power of the divine.
At length she regained self-consciousness, and her eyes
darted back to that segment of the beach where her son had been standing
but his figure, like a stream of sand on the dunes of time,
had been replaced by nothingness,
the allure of the unknown and
Poseidon’s call of wild fury
too strong to resist.

Copyright © Jesse Jones

Details | Lyric | |

Beach Blues

I came to the beach, for a little sunshine
I came to the beach, for a little sunshine
But you slunk through the shadows, and into my mind

I look out to sea, to try and find peace
I look out to sea, to try and find peace
But I’m still tethered to you, like a mutt on a leash

Memories of us, erupt like ‘bing’ hits
Memories of us, erupt like ‘bing’ hits
I want to forget, our beach wedding bliss

So I lie on my back, and stare up at the sky
So I lie on my back, and stare up at the sky
Detesting you, and your new Barbie wife

Knots of you form, inside of my stomach
Knots of you form, inside of my stomach
I try to undo them, but my fortitude plummets

I hope that in time, I’ll be able to swim
I hope that in time, I’ll be able to swim
And my memories of you, will pour from my limbs

***based on typical blues music, where the first line is repeated and the third line is a "holler"/answer (rhyme scheme AAB)

Copyright © Black Eyed Susan

Details | Rhyme | |

Beach Notes

Sand erodes beneath my feet
as the waves again retreat
seaweed and dead jellyfish
are left upon the beach

I think of you this moment
the memory stings and bites
didn’t mean to hurt you
forgive me
I would try to make it right

I heard you in my head
when you did not say goodbye
all those hurtful words
I heard in no reply

The endless ocean rolls and breaks
upon this empty stretch of sand
As I turn to leave, I didn’t hear you say
come here and take my hand 

Copyright © Jill Martin