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Prose Poetry Beach Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Beach

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sand Castles

Upon a beach I came to stand
And watched a child at play. 
He did while playing in the sand
A point of life convey. 

With scoops and buckets he did build 
A structure tall and grand. 
And to the child the beach did yield 
A castle made of sand. 

But as he left, I do recall, 
Away I did not turn. 
And with the coming night would fall
A lesson to be learned. 

The tide came in, with force did strike, 
The castle could not stand. 
And I was shown how life is like
A castle made of sand. 

And man is but a child at play, 
His works they will not last. 
For all he builds within days
Shall be by time surpassed. 

Each thing we do, Each thing we say, 
Each notion we conceive,
They all to soon shall pass away, 
Yes, this I do believe. 

We leave no mark, we leave no trace
That shall forever stand 
Be sure my friend time will erase
Our days however grand.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Siren's Song

I long for the open sea while gentle waves call to me in my sleep
Dreams of salt air and a boundless horizon
No words ride the night, yet I hear her song and know her voice.

Stand I here at waters' edge while the moon bids her rise to greet me
To embrace her as she beckons me to follow
To become one with her, or perish in the striving

Marooned, here I stand on this island in the sun
Afraid to plunge into the depths, I am rooted…captive
Denying myself passage to that distant horizon

O happy tide, would that I were as free to leave


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ocean

A gray dawn, a dark twilight.
 Daybreak, dawn, dusk.
A flash of lightening across the horizon.
 Windswept trees, in all bent shape, 
Such is the result due to harsh winds 
 That travel for miles and miles.
And we have no knowledge from where it came from
 Or where it is going.
But that its travel continues across the daunting mass
 Called; Ocean.
Oh how it churns the water.
 I can feel the mist and spray cover my body
And tingle my hands.
 Standing in the shallow the air blows about me
With sandy hair raging like fire, slapping my face.
 A feeling of unknown,
Watching angry waves become violent.
 And a shiver of coldness, trembles my body.
A sense of peace,
 I have one thought;
Where did it come from?                                       


Details | Prose Poetry | |

GUESS WHO COMING

GUESS WHO’S COMING…
(Apropos My Island Home..)

The sun slowly sunk
its exhausted reddish-orange
head into the waiting sea’s 
soothing sky blue bosom.

Excited white mane waves
splashed upon the waiting shore;
leaving the froth of their tears dissipating
in stilled sand soaked with haunting memories
of the disembarkation of stinking slave ships.

At the entrance gate of the sea wall,
a newly painted sign read: Guest Only.
Sighting my ebony epidermal hue,
red coral eyes of a bleeding conscience
painfully motioned me to move on:

Pity, you can’t be a guest
in your own yard. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I won't be Home For Xmas

I won't be home
not For Christmas
nor for funerals
not for birthdays
Wanted to never see you
on those days so hard to get through.

When you abandoned the sweetness
and chased your dream into the alley
When you thought it best to see me cry

When your mind changed with the direction of the wind 
I stood there with spit on my finger tips...
holding my hand in the air,Waiting for the winds of hope
to blow your love and loyalty in my direction

Home is a strange city
where no one knows me.
where no one will invite me to sit across the table
and try to smile as I play with my stuffing on china with flowers
As I remember the children laughing and opening gifts.
I remember the long silent ride back to our house.

I think back when I got on my knees
before climbing into our cold bed 
The prayers just uttered coming back void.
Ask God to just let you touch me again
I needed your body-heat to keep warm.
I needed your support to continue on 
for the sake of the commitment.

For the sake of waiting for love to remind you
Even if pity could hold you there..
I would not be ashamed of what you sacrificed
When love had given birth to pity-
I would have held on without pride.

Now I never want to come back to that town.
Where no one cares that you don't love me.
I am in remission.
Alone but it's OK.
Please tell our future to visit me. 
On the seashores. 
The sun warms me in
my new home 
where no one knows me.
All my old friends are 
dead and dying.So...

I won't be home
not For Christmas
nor for funerals
not for birthdays
Wanted to never see you
on those days so hard to get through.

Just my spirit and the ocean.
and one day tell our grandchildren
Grandma will be here walking;
With one finger in the air moistened with spit.
to see which way the wind blows.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Beach

The beach is peaceful this
Autumn evening, the odd
screech of a seagulls
jealousy as it scraps for
pieces of flotsam.
The soft slap of the tide
as it paws the shell and 
shingle, grey slate clouds
lumpy, uneven, as if 
someone had stuck egg
trays all over the ceiling.
On the bumps were tinges
of orange and scarlet, the
remnants of a recently
departed sun.
Whispers of sailors lost
and the love of Aphrodite
mingled in the ozone,
borne on breezes that
had kissed foreign shores.
A heartbeat of tranquillity
brings the memories, with
every kiss of the wave, the
walking , holding of hands
the leaning on craggy 
outcrops, those never ever
forgotten words passed in
the innocence of love.
And so in the ambience of
whispers and kissing waves
I walk on, knowing this 
beach is not as secluded
as I first thought. That tide
may erase the footsteps of
the past, but the sands of
life are there to walk again. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE SUMMER

tho  i sweat
you can bet
i like it wet
the beach
the sandy feet
the sun love to run
in the hot sun
am a hot weather bummer
i LOVE THE SUMMER


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fuhgeddaboudit

On a bright day
I will be
Grabbing a drink at the bar
Brighton Beach, it seems so far
Coney Island is where you'll find me
Sideshows and Hotdogs
Where I need to be.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DANCE OF SOULS

Salty air breathed from crystalline peaks
I breathe in And catch a glimpse 
of the dancing, bowed bodies.

They perform a graceful ballet;
like arrows shot from an archer’s bow;
they leap, breach and roll.

Their eyes have seen ages of brine and shifting sands.
I wonder if they really are the “Watchers”; 
like the “Dogon” stories portray them.
Did they once have legs instead of fins 
and can we really be their children?

Perhaps that is why they are so quick to help us;
Why a child who can not speak can suddenly come to life?
He won’t be silenced again, 
after all, he swam with the dolphins.  
Could it be the magic of the dance that heals?

Odd, that they are always there when needed
And can transform a stagnating life 
into a miraculous moment of rebirth!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Salty Waves Pt 1

What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to say? All these lies you bottled up come sweeping, crashing with the tides. My footing's gone, the ocean real, but how am I supposed to feel? And here I am, a drowning mess, a loveless lie, I do protest. And here I am a drowning mess. So all those things you said to me? Where they just lies out of pity? So all those things you said to me? Or am I lost in salty waves? Yes I know my future's grave. Or am I lost in salty waves?And now the panic in my head, when I should be tucked up in your bed, reels and reels right here instead.I'm going down, a sinking ship, funny what name drips off my lips. It is not God, or Angles plenty, or even that I'm just damn ready To let go of the hell and the lies. I'm wishing for your gentle eyes. Or at least the way they always seemed, but perhaps that's just this salty dream. I have no clue what I'm to do! A drowning hopeless mess, for you-- think it's cute, and oh so funny, but here's the bitter truth now honey. I'm going down. There is no help. I can't be saved by God himself. I put my life, my whole world of trust, and you've thrown it away for lust. Well what the hell's a girl to do? I'm just so entranced by you!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the beach

              the beach

whitecaps overlapping the ocean
listening to the waves  come in as
the sun shines brightly on a new day
it is so inviting and
everything seems much better 
with the ocean roaring
it’s brand new every time
feel the sand beneath your feet
as you walk along taking it in
wondering where it all
comes from and where it goes
yet it does another dance
as before inviting you to
sit, walk, or just stand
and watch the most fantastic
show you will ever see

		


Details | Prose Poetry | |

God With Us

"What is your heart called, Elizabeth?"
'My Heart is called, Grief.'
"Why? Why is your heart called grief?"
'Because it's yearning, has been yearning, and will forevermore continue to yearn.'
"Your heart yearns Elizabeth? What is it like? Elizabeth, what does yearning feel like?"
 A lake, a river, an ocean, mountains, and trees were all around. The clouds, the wind, that heavy sense... I stared off into the distance.
'It's like out of empty darkness the sound of a sad, shattered, broken heart crying out. Yet depressed in silence and is in solitude. It sees all the secrets and lies... that lie in the dust.'
I turn to the little girl. 'How do you heal a Broken heart?'
"That IS deep, Elizabeth. Your pain.., now I can feel it. But--but you are single-minded Elizabeth, not knowing Emmanuel.' "
 The wind picks up my long dark hair revealing a tan naked back, and I once again look out at the ocean. 
'I know Emmanuel not, because--because I've become unfaithful.'
"I have heard of the pure in Heart' before."
I look down at the little girl, oh so beautiful. 
"And it's those who seek God."
The little girl looks into my eyes with those eyes, I cannot remember what color they were.
"And God they shall find."
I gasp.
The little girl then holds my right hand. "Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth, 'Pure in Heart' does not mean free of sin, but rather knowledge and understanding."
But my mind doesn't think of this. I can't let go of the thought of why this little girl talked with so much wisdom yet appeared to be about the age of seven. And then the selfish thoughts all come back to mind once again. Placing me in the deepest rabbit hole. To sudden terror, to extreme darkness. I hear my heart mourning. I can't take it any longer, I free my hand from the little girl, clash my own together and I fall right down to the ground in front of her, at her mercy.
'Can you!? Can You please free my Heart!? I have died already, I know I have! I wish some of the things I ever did never happened, I'm Lost, tired, angry, confused, selfish and bound in chains with every step I take! Please tell me what I must do to unleash myself! Please, I am willing to do the good, for the God I left long ago that I believe in so much.'
 The wind blows harder then ever at that moment, and takes my hair across my face. I see nothing but I shiver. And the shivering becomes trembling. I felt like I was being held, I felt like I was being cradled, I felt like the sea was rocking me back & forth, and I felt sand be...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LISTEN

Be like waves which crash on the jetty

Washing all our impurities away

Waves like a crescent curtain dangling in its fringes

Unearthing sunken precious stones

Hurling them up above the elevation

Hanging on dear life right ahead

Waves that don't crush us because we wish it

Waves that surface and in turn are subdued

Waves we are in this depth of consciousness

Appeal to and unearth your Godly wisdom

Uphold and hang in the untimely crush

Be strong, be heard, be known and be well

For all will suffice at the end of the spray


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PREFACE TO A JAMAICAN FAREWELL



   PREFACE TO A JAMAICA FAREWELL

When I’m gone
remember me in tamarind season
reflecting the bitter
sweet of life we shared

Raise eyes 
to the ambers 
and blues of Caribbean skies

Listen to the thunder
and hear my soul 
soaring

In the searching winds of time
look for me in the ebb and flow
of  the tides:

Frothing the shores 
with salted memories.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love

                I LOVE YOU

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine
    And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
    Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
    Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
    Your kisses against my face.

Not for me the cold, calm kiss
    Of a virgin’s bloodless love;
Not for me the saint’s white bliss,
    Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
    And laughs at the whole world’s blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
    It sets my poor heart aflame.

So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
    Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
    That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
    While the pale stars shine above,
And we’ll live our whole young lives away
    In the joys of a living love.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Bridle Coo

My brother liked to steal my cloze
I said I like too wear my socks two

He had a girlfriend named rose
That he'd bring home when our parents were aweigh

He'd say to her "I love you deer"
And give her a flour or to

One day I said "I want a girl that listens to medal"
He laughed and told me I was cereal

But I mustard up the courage without mintsing words
And i said to his girlfriend "you should merry me"

She said "yes" and my brother could only grown
But he'll be my best man when me and her get married at the beech

He'll be wearing socks and sandals by the see
And I'll be sockless but merrying rose happily


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FEEDBACK on Baltimore

A few soaring trees 
Here and there
On a green earth
Flowers with flesh in girth
The costume bear
No wear and tear


Air going out in BMW
Air coming in seven hues
This show is likely due to
System in a capital skew

In front of them
Is the waste land
 Marshy messy meadow
Dull bushes in shadow
Looking ugly and small
Staring at the marble hall

“Can’t we get 
Some healthy sunshine 
A little shade by a hand divine
A tender touch of love
To get rid of 
This wheeze and whine?”


But apathetic capital 
Pays no heed
Day goes and night comes
The vulture is sure to return
Peeved mass of despair
Inflammable in the air

The other day came the headlines
Two fleshy plants molested
Raped and confined
Turmoil in the spine

The force opens fire 
A gloom dies then and there 
Tale of tearing tears everywhere 

Grousing   gore  
Whether here in this shore
Or in Baltimore

Be that as it may
We shall overcome
In the long run
May be it will take
A lot of decades.

We have stars as our guide
And dream inside.

---------------------------------- 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sandman

He comes, a seaside golem,
walking like Frankenstein’s monster
because sand has filled the crack in his
behind, and his feet are shod in at least
two pounds of beach.
He carries his pail and shovel.

“Mommy, I have fun!” he chirps.

And I love him in spite of his sandy behind,
in spite of the leaden feet
and the grit in his hair,
in spite of the fact that I know who’ll be
removing the sand.

I love him because he’s my golem,
and, well, he had fun.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ashlea

That's her name, 
a small silhouette of her shame.
The simple games she plays; a smile worth nothing
certainly she isn't worth anything.
Trim and clean, no, not what she seems. 
The straight edge of her hair,
oh, ever so fair.
Each cut tells a tale. She beckons in her unclear haze,
Really.
She,
Is home, but it seems not so.
That's her walk; simple, well dressed.
The tip of her tongue, stayed from guilt causing speech..
Her teeth pale the calmness of her person,
Oh a smile worth nothing.
Every move she makes has some form of purpose;
she knows where she's ending up.
Anger-less, with searing shoal of blue waters. 
Sensitive, what is an ocean of blue without rain followed by a smile?
Happy to say the least, loving to a fault,
tempered to the point of understanding.
Evil like the good that comes from some clean fun.
Awful at her best,
yet the worst compares so much better. 
She walks in withered past and crumpled future.
If she falls no-one will pick her up,
yet her smile is worth nothing.
If she could talk she would tell her story.
Yet she can't speak,
her voice is gone.
Her love is shattered.
The lightning strikes the shore,
the sand wells up into glass, only to shatter,
shatter like her heart.
She thought she could swim,
the water how it cared now about her plight,
simply to toss her back to the glassy sands that cut her heart.
Here it would be,
she would cry without her voice,
her only defense, where,
as it was,
her pale smile.
Couldn't she see him and how much he cared; 
He wouldn't know the knife had slipped,
or that sirens buzzed with retribution.
How long does a dark day last?
How long does a dark night last when even the day is dark?
Both could only last much to long for her,
yet, here came he with flowers to meet her at home.
She wasn't there, with which he carried heavy heart- 
seeing the tape and the crying man.
When would daylight break?
Would the night ever set on her calm reprise?
Now they've sent her away; he's hung his head,
she's died inside, her apathy grown, how could she cry?
Mid morning, the light in the room was still the same.