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Sonnet Beach Poems | Sonnet Poems About Beach

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

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Day at the Beach

Imagine sitting in the sand at the beach,
The sand between your toes and just close 
enough where the water can reach.
The sand is wet and a little cold,
You look out at the clear blue sky you see the 
sun shining like a piece of gold.
You see dolphins jumping in the distance,
Glad that they're apart of existence.
You see a flock of seagulls soar,
You lay back and close your eyes listening to
 the waves crashing onto the shore.
Smelling the salty water and the sun hitting 
your skin,
The warm and comfort you feel within.
You hear kids as they laugh and play,
Smiling because today was a great day.

        May 04, 2014
~ The One and Only~


Details | Sonnet | |

My Friesland

I've come at last, my Friesland;
I'll never leave again,
But watch the budding trees stand
Above the grassy plain.

From the smallest little flow'rs that grow,
To the tallest steeple's rise,
You're the fairest country that I know
Beneath the bluest skies.

Everywhere I walk, I see,
My memories are true;
The people smiling back at me,
Their eyes are sparkling too.

From Bolsward down toward Heerenveen,
The dearest land I've seen;
What shame I nearly left for good,
When I was but fifteen.

I've come at last, my Friesland;
My wand'ring I resign:
Oh, sprawling, comely sealand,
What joy to call you mine!


{Form begins as a sonnet and continues as quatrain.}


Details | Sonnet | |

Puzzle

A piece of ocean next to trees and sand
Scattered across treated mahogany. 
Across a face, and a ship now unmanned,
And rolling waves, fingers trip sloppily.
Splitting the pile into organized stacks
Here end pieces, there yellow, and here blue.
Out of nowhere a playful cat attacks!
Ocean falls like rain, every piece but two 
The cat bounds away leaving destruction.
Scattered pieces, mangled ship thrown on beach
Nothing but a picture for instruction.
Marching forth, I took the puzzle by siege
Gradually the pieces come together
And are ready for your viewing pleasure


Details | Sonnet | |

Fog Of Sunshine

Upon arriving in a cold dawn breeze
Whilst hands might be full, demanding to lift
Eagle eyed on such a shadow at ease
Extends a welcome, still I became stiff.
Aura’s on edge to this fragile posture 
Dismal charade coats his inner bearing
As river of moonshine does not torture
The eight, deep-seated ‘til rays are glaring.
Gathered for indulgence at fresh midday 
The fragile has a mouth for his wise tongue
Sharing trivia that carried me away
And yet bluffs as a flat poker-faced young.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
That is quite an open-and-shut draw line.

Skin fires up along waters in motion
A query comes in, hailed to modern dame
The rant of the fragile spurs his notion
Though excuse me, could not join your game.
Flushed and away from taking the crisp pledge
I sway to the tune of compelling tracks
Heretofore, an act that I must not hedge
Straight outside where the dazed fragile relaxed.
From pedals and licks to favored genre
The familiarity is round-the-clock
Surplus existence is not a contra
Evanescence of the soul comes to knock.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
Drop out of sight; I think I will be fine.

First shot - a lustrous rust from ripe wonder
The seven, battled the craft of reason
Second shot - a mind’s eye leads to blunder
The two, tempted for the sake of season.
Allured to the voice of inviting mischief
A seal that is all but butterfly kiss
Dries the dearest out beyond disbelief
Enough of it calls the shots of mere bliss.
Gasp of steamy air echoes out of range
Lingering for the deep touch of desire
Vague urge gives in to an enticing change
Tender strokes spring from the poise we aspire.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
The fragile climbed the capstone; likewise, mine.

The first blush rises above horizon
As the three sheets to the wind tiptoed well
Being caught in a fly-by-night zion
Upstairs is under one’s wing from the spell.
Scruffy yet born with bewitching feature
Voice endowed with suavity sweeps off feet
Mesmeric eyes that can cause mild seizure
Dear me now, could not stare or even greet. 
The four, smoothed the way back to how things charm
Others remained; clueless of what took shape
Swan song by the fragile got my cheek warm
Treated this breathing space as sweet escape.
The fog of sin from a bag of sunshine
Still and all, an open-and-shut draw line.


Details | Sonnet | |

Time to book a holiday

It's time to book a holiday
Where we'll go I cannot say
A beach resort, or bush retreat
Maybe a chalet cosy, sweet

Maybe somewhere across the seas
In Bali they tell me "life's a breeze"
Somewhere I haven't been before
Same, same, it can be a bore

Now I know, I have a plan
Perhaps I'll take a pin in hand
Stick it somewhere on a map
This could do the trick may haps

But I want to go somewhere
Just anywhere I just don't care


Details | Sonnet | |

Seascape

At the packed coastal beach, scents of chrysanthemums’ incenses
Adorned the cool sea breeze, perfuming my mollified senses
The late afternoon sun burned gently, its flames caressed my skin
Snowy clouds ambled the cheery skies, dressed in crystalline blues.
Its picturesque mirrored by the unruffled sea, as I took in
The panoramic scape, seamlessly flowing, forming curls of indigo hues.

The azure shades subtly paled, as flustered vistas grew morose
Soft mumbles preceded grumbles, in a capricious metamorphose.
Spindrifts and gusts conspired, in mutinous unity of quietude’s assault,
Strides of wave crests turbulent, broadcasted their unruly tumult,
The beach, depraved vestiges of the serene, scenic scape pristine,
In solitude rue of the sea's untamed, rowdy routine.

Surges of emotions compulsive, our dispositions rendered visible 
Sometimes as the sea’s open sight, our auras discernible.

	
© Maverick Nyambu


Details | Sonnet | |

Angel Lady - A Petrarchan Sonnet

     The sea wind blows her shining chestnut hair
            That flows as from a hidden mountain spring,
             Which, as the skylark rising on the wing,
       Flies heavenward up, as if in homage rare.

        I follow with my eyes this lady fair
             Who walks along the beach and gently sings,
             Quite unaware of all the joy she brings,
         But of my presence she is unaware.

              This heavenly vision glides before my eyes; 
              Then, as a sunbeam plays its devilish tricks,
               She seems to vanish quickly without trace.

               But is she but an angel in disguise?
               I search the empty beach with eyes transfixed
               But never more will see her lovely face.


Copyright 2014
 


Details | Sonnet | |

And I, seeing you old upon your chair

And I, seeing you old upon your chair
Thinking how cold and heartless you could be.
The stern and bitter visage of your stare
That sense of something lost I couldn't see.
Your anger, hardened like a winter chill
Had bruised our childhood days and left us flawed,
We who had wondered why and wonder still
The coldness of your touch that never thawed.
I who was half-afraid to reappear
To look you in the eye and stare you down,
See nothing but an old and haggard dear,
A face that hides behind a frightened frown.
And looking at your face which run with tears
See nothing but your guilt and all you fears.








Details | Sonnet | |

The Present on the Beach

The May Bahama breezes rustled fronds of palm trees very common on the beach. And he, with an affinity for blondes, was drawn to one who seemed within his reach. Encompassed by white sand and azure sea, embraced by warming rays, she, sweet and thin, a present for his eyes now seemed to be, well-wrapped in golden tissue - smooth, young skin. The challenge often facing him was gone - no need to guess, by checking cleavage out, the looks of what he fondly gazed upon. Her luscious mangoes bared left him no doubt. Engaged in sport, he thanked his lucky star he’d packed binoculars to see so far! 7/31/12 For the Funny Poem Contest of craig cornish


Details | Sonnet | |

That Morning on the Beach

That morning on the beach, where did we go?
That June, before the current swept away
That thin island between the sea and bay,
Where did we walk, the risen sun still low?

Before the current swept away the land
And me along with it, where did we stride?
Next to the sea, the waxing, waning tide
Whose rhythmic jaws consumed the footprint sand?

No,

We went nowhere that morning on the sand. 
I stood and let the icy waves beat me
And hoped that they would pull me out to sea,
Far from this disappearing island. 

Back then, I thought the sea would set me free,
But all it did was make a memory. 


Details | Sonnet | |

Beach Church

"Everyday, people stray 
away from the church and go 
back to God."  -  Lenny Bruce  


I kneel upon an ocean beach to pay 
attention to some creature in the sand.  
A choir of seagulls breaks out in song and 
swells my soul and the surf roars, “Let us spray.”  

Many little crabs scurry amongst the rocks 
to take up a collection of what there 
is there of sustenance.  Their simple prayer: 
"Please, feed us and save us from wild bird flocks.”  

The sea tide rushes in and through crevices 
it bursts; I hear its word whilst it sings me 
a doxology for the trinity 
as beautiful as any church services. 

The only thing I miss is the sermon.  
Nonetheless, I feel a better person.  


Details | Sonnet | |

The Baptism


The Baptism


Like a baptismal rite, the waters flow
Upon the sandy shore marred by the feet
Of travelers. There in the golden glow
Of sun, where sky and land and ocean meet,

Each scar is washed away by the deep reach
Of blessed waves poured from the font-like sea—
Here liquid spirit bathes the pitted beach
And leaves behind unblemished purity.

I walked along the water's edge and saw
The prints I made, which in a moment's time
Were gone—the shore agleam without a flaw—
And I exalted in the holy clime,

As if my soul, like scarred and trampled sand,
Was mended by the blessed sea's great hand. 


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

~5th Place~
Contest: Memories of the Sea
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Judged: 05/15/2015

I was in my mid-twenties the very first time I experienced the magnificent ocean, its waves and sandy beach.  Walking on the beach inspired this poem.


Details | Sonnet | |

Bliss from Heaven

Oh my, little missy, what a fortress you created
Topless blonde toddler on the sand feels emancipated
The smile that brightens her sweet face can’t be understated
The beach ball beside her lays on the soft beach inflated

Take my hand, oh little one, and please do not be afraid
Come out from your sandy fortress and in the water wade
Why, look, the tiny hermit crabs are marching in parade
And down the beach two older boys are selling lemonade

Innocent one, I pray that life holds happiness for you
The world sometimes seems very harsh, but I will see you through
How blessed I am to share your joy, but we’ll share sorrow too
And one day when you marry, I’ll cheerfully bid adieu

Childhood years spin by so fast, I savor every moment
Because I have no doubt the bliss you bring is heaven sent


Details | Sonnet | |

Robert Beach

With screams echoing through these halls,
Smoke begins to rise.
Retuning to these murder filled walls,
It's the past I have learnt to despise.
 
Lights flashing red, blue, and white.
Sitting up against the door,
We've held up one hell of a fight.
A knock on the door.
"You'll deal with my son first!"
They pulled my beaten brother by the wrist,
As they cursed, 
Ignoring my bleeding mother.
 
Scared and traumatized, 
We have survived.


Details | Sonnet | |

nostalgia

Nostalgia 
There is an island small near the airport and is connected 
to a small bridge. In summers I used to take my dog there
for a swim… the dog liked to swim but not far and long, 
just too cool off. Parking was no problem back then and 
dogs were allowed. After swimming we walked to a café 
I bought a litre bottle of water, cupped my hand so the dog 
could drink too, I read a paper and the dog found a shade.
Drove back yesterday wanted to see if there had been any 
changes, the beach was full of sunbeds, each one with
 a parasol and it cost money by the hour. Those who didn´t 
want to pay had a stony part of the beach they resembled 
a flock of seals on a reef. It was all so organized and clean it 
looked to me like a military encampment. No, nothing stays 
the same, my dog is dead, has been so for a long time.   


Details | Sonnet | |

Te Arai Point

The sun lit the sky and I lit a joint,
  And the mood was gay and so was Tinley!
Then onward to the coast - Te Arai Point -
  On that long dusty trail down Forestry.
O Halcyon age of substance, not style...
  A tall "scab" or ten in the tussock grass,
But the gulf wind off Great Barrier Isle
  Blew waves to the shore and sand up my arse!
A campfire did blaze the windward chill,
  There were tales and ales and excess pleasures
Long into the night till we had our fill -
  Rip, shit and bust...and no countermeasures.
Packed up our tents all - hungover and worn,
And hit the Hot Pools the next ragged morn.


                  



                    March 1995


Details | Sonnet | |

Midway

To Gooney Birds

Shifting palm trees in sandy beach sunshine
Guard an immortal violet-blue lagoon
Gooney birds beg and dance all in a line
When they land it’s like watching a cartoon

As the ship is being refueled at pier
Steaks and beer on the beach with these strange birds
An island oasis it would appear
What I observed was truly beyond words 

Sailors in various degrees of dress
Being chased and attacked by vicious foul
While steaks burned with cold beer we couldn’t care less
By sunset my shipmates began to howl

A bizarre lay over as you have read
We left at sunrise all with aching head


Details | Sonnet | |

ON THE BEACH

ON    THE    BEACH


As a prisoner misses the cell after countless years inside
Or a near-death experience reappears in dreams 
Quelled feelings come and go like the tide
Experience long gone still flows in mind streams

The flotsam and jetsam of a life wrecked
May appear on the beach at tide’s low ebb 
When defences are down and we do not expect
To meet them again mid the strands of life’s web

For the past has not passed, but remains in the now:
Streams of consciousness tumble uncontrolled
And flood themselves into the overflowing scow
Of  the mind  - old and cold,  they fill the hold.

            There can be no present on free dry land
            Without an end to the past of shifting wet sand