Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Lost Beach Poems | Beach Poems About Lost

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

12
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 | Romanticism |

The Four Letter Word

Four letters put together to create one word,
with an impeccable definition.

Love...,
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.


Details | Free verse |

Have You Ever Read

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??

You'll see...

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!



Details | Romanticism |

The Beautiful Woman

Beautiful women stridding along
beach front properties
after the cruel april showers have rolled through
damaging and overflooding the hanging geraniums,
and the despise of jealous boys
rolling through hemlock, with trousers stained with sand,
they gaze like dogs looking at a juicy bone,
at the beautiful women, all of them walking hand and hand
singing songs of love, as hummingbirds and nightingales
soar high over their heads, keeping them all company,
all singing songs of love.

Go now, go now, into the gardens of beauty
there you'll find me hinding, waiting
for my beautiful women that spare no glance,
but a quick of a hand I am allowed.
Go now, go now, into the gardens of beauty
pick the red roses that bloom,
and leave the blue violets for the dead.

See the beautiful women, as the jealous boys huddle around me,
we gaze at their beauty and hold our breath,
till they start laughing.
They drink tea, read novels and talk about everything
that matters to naive girls' mind.
We listen and hear their secrets, some horrid
and some unbearable to listen too.

Go now, young boys and stride on
go to the beach front properties
in your straw hats and sandstained trousers
and call unto me, when the beautiful women
come once again striding along.

One beautiful woman I gaze upon
blonde hair, blue eyes
the sweetest of arian races
she wears her flannel, spring dress,
and cottonswab blouse,
she turns to me, hiding in the rose peaker bushes,
she looks at me and smiles.
I hide my emotion and I leave the garden of beauty,
to stride for another day.
To see the young, beautiful girls,
to see that one, that is not hard to spot
the one, like the first rose to bloom
she is not hard to spot.

One day, as I sit in the garden of beauty,
my courage will reign over me
and I shall present myself to her grace
and glorious beauty.
Go now my dear, go now, go to the garden of beauty,
and share your stories and drink your tea in peace;
Pick the ruby roses, but leave the blue violets for the dead,
for I am safe and I am just around the corner.


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.


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?


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...


Details | Free verse |

A Blue Boy's Death Wish

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
"End me"
Lost and tired
He wishes to be weak no more


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, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



12