Beach Son Poems | Beach Poems About Son
These Beach Son poems are examples of Beach poems about Son. These are the best examples of Beach Son poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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Back in the summer of 69
I remember sitting on the dock of the bay
watching the boys of summer
build their love shacks love shacks
girls were playing twister and
sipping on pina coladas all day
feeling kind of groovy groovy
I couldn't get much higher higher
with these such good vibrations
from the summer in the city
way down in Key Largo
watching my beach baby beach baby
from the dock of the bay
Just Something I was working on
for a song Used all summer songs LOL
Hate to see the summer fun end
This Song Is Written By Me
And Now Is It Is Published Thru N.W. Alabamba
On the Beach Watching the Waves and....
I was sitting on the beach watching the waves
thinking of all the lives I've saved
my job is a thrill ; my job is hard
but I adore it, 'cause I'm a lifeguard
at times my mind drifts along with the waves
into a leisurely daydream some of the days
but then, I awaken to reality when I hear a scream
so I jump into the water to save yet another
Good thing I did ! 'Cause it was my mother!
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.