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Beach Philosophy Poems | Beach Poems About Philosophy

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Sandcastles on beach of love

Castles of sand 
on the beach of love
never crumble.

Love thy name is 
Eternity.





==============

By:kash poet


Details | Rhyme | |

Private Beach

It’s a private beach
And they don’t want
Our kind
There

But I’ve got a bucket 
Full of private 
Sand
That I’m willing to 
Share

I’ll offer it freely
By the cup

Private sand 
From a private 
Man

Composed of blistered
Dreams 
Lots of 
Bad luck

And I wouldn’t think
Of charging
For my private
Dust

As long as you love 
Me
As long as you
Trust

That a day will come
When my sand becomes
More 

Than a bucket of
Prayers
A bucket of
Horror

Look out toward the sea
My love
The waves foam in mad
Design

Look into my eyes
My twin
And know you are
Mine

Just a man 
A bucket
And some 
Private sand
A man 
And his 
Bucket
Full of
Crazy plans

It’s a private beach
And they don’t want
Our kind
There

But I’ve got an ocean
Of private 
Love
That I’m willing to 
Share

Run across the beach 
Let me wrestle you to the ground

Kiss you forever
Thank God
For what I’ve found

A lover
Willing to share
Believe in her
Man

In
My bucket
My single
Bucket
Of 
Private 
Sand






 







Details | Elegy | |

The desert was a beach.

I stood by the periphery… 
gracelessly doling derivative remarks 
(all that is rhetorical in rhetoric and blatant in denial) 
upon my comrades, the dust shot Sandinistas of midsummer masochism, 
the caliphs of ‘Baltic Bay’.  
“The armistice laid flowers upon 
the salt seasoned lip of the hatch-backed hawk…” 
Blood fell passively between his heartbroken legs, 
siphoned from each and every available pore; 
the oxygenated irony of pneumatic Gnosticism: 
“The desert was a beach.” 
They say that war is a catalytic catharsis, a palatial reprieve,
without languid logic or porous rationality, 
the emancipation of masculinity, 
castrated by the wire… 
I thought it was hell… I was taught to think otherwise… 
The torrential shards of verbal promiscuity 
stole light unto the fore, 
anxiously negotiating 
the parochial labyrinth of incandescent egotism, 
intrinsically denied.  
Rare, poached howitzers… laden with anxiety 
bore slight from the barbed-wire battalion 
of ill-fitting idiots, 
shuffling their feet, settling their nerves, 
sealing their fate with 
slack pot meandering midst snip sniped surprise.
“The technicality of principalities, dukedoms and deceit, 
tune the tuneless melody and save your soul from hate. “ 
Their calibre unknown, their reasons unfounded… 
the calypso calling cantaloupes of entrepreneurial acumen 
shot black with dusk… slid unto the night. 
Corporal rationale: “Half an hour of ambiguity…” 
Lieutenant liquidation: “Twenty minutes of woe…” 
Collective privacy: “Ten minutes of philistine philanthropy…”
Collective piracy: “Five minutes of... … ….” 
Towel clenched soviets, eager and resentful, 
scape-goaded the photographic horde into meagre submission… 
subverting the course of justice. 
Rented Kalashnikovs rattled ravenous replies… 
once, twice, three times a corpse… 
“Androgyny and xenophiles, the pasteurised provocateur… 
draped in Prada propped dynamics, mechanically aware…”   
Desiccant faeces flew five feet into the air; 
the aluminium gilded lavatories received the short end of the stick, 
figuratively emasculated… 
literally liquidated within (without) the… humdrum humidity. 
Gabriel dictated the proceedings. 
The abortive restraint of sycophantic silencers 
and Hassidic hallucinations, 
graced by a political patriarchy… 
urinating upon the synthetic soil.

     

 

    


        


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





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 | Rhyme | |

Sea Borne

They call the waves white-sharks, and they run from them in fear. They say the water is so vast that you could disappear. And when a child goes near, they pull her back into the sand. They say she is borne from the land. They feel they need to grip her hand.

But I am sea borne and I will swim. I am sea borne and I will live. Upon the white-sharks current, and upon the vast deep below. I will take the child in my arms and swallow her whole. I will make her whole. 
She is whole.

They save their own from my care. I am lost without the wear. I cry at night like the white-sharks do. I cry too, I cry too. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Sea Borne

They call the waves white-sharks, and they run from them in fear. They say the water is so vast that you could disappear. And when a child goes near, they pull her back into the sand. They say she is borne from the land. They feel they need to grip her hand.

But I am sea borne and I will swim. I am sea borne and I will live. Upon the white-sharks current, and upon the vast deep below. I will take the child in my arms and swallow her whole. I will make her whole. 
She is whole.

They save their own from my care. I am lost without the wear. I cry at night like the white-sharks do. I cry too, I cry too. 


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,
swoons,

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.


Details | Free verse | |

When the Tide Goes Out

When the tide goes out your day at the beach is over.
When the tide goes out all the shells on the sea bottom are uncovered, glistening in the 
fading sunlight like jewels.
When the tide goes out and you are gone, all the birds land on your sand castle and it 
collapses under them, scaring them to the next castle down the beach, till all that's left are 
piles of sand, for the fading tide to carry away.
When the tide goes out all the sea snails and hermit crabs come out for a breath of fresh air.
When the tide goes out you get to see the coral and moss-covered rocks, drying and 
hardening in the unwanted air.
When the tide goes out the beauty of the beach is uncovered, yet most of us aren't there to 
see it.
When the tide goes out.


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled Dover Beach

Death is the thing with feathered wings
Here on these rocky Dover cliffs
Against which breaks perpetual wave upon wave
    Melting away this earth-stone base
    Atop which rests the sky


Sleepwalkers, walking with lead-laden feet
They dream only of falling, falling
Let us, love, dream of one another
    Beneath the white gulls crying
    And the moon-tides dying


Details | Blank verse | |

Playing By The Beach

Some children 
Playing by the beach
Running here and there
Giving the screech 
Of joy and pleasure
Some elderly persons
Resting on the cool sand
Are smiling to see them play
As if try to find out
Their own childhood
Some others are dosing
With half closed eyes
As if enjoying 
Both sleep and play 
At the same time
The waves are calm
The children
Make cups of their palm
Fill salty water
And try to erect
Their dream palace
Their innocent genius
Does not know
That all the castles on the beach
Are highly prone to
The wave of a high tide
And wash them away
Like the palace of 
The bodies of man
Once trapped in the high tide
Of approaching time
Are washed away 
And their souls are merged
In the eternal soul
Forever like the sand
On the beach
Again gets ready
For the new palaces
And the wheel of time
Goes on like this


Details | Dizain | |

Plotineads

ocean - a beautiful naked woman
a pseudo of her makeup
a smile that the soul drank

this indescribable face
these curves endlessly

she give birth the galaxy
she resuscitates the indefinite

is this my destiny
is she my desire

this absolute ecstasy