James Fraser Poet Rhyme

Breakers and Beachcombers

The sound of the breakers
As they hit the shore
Bringing gifts to the sands
As youngsters explore

Coloured shells
Smoothed stones
The wanting
Beach-comb

Driftwood shapes
Crafted on the wave
Some drift forever
While some are saved

But this bearer of gifts
Can deal a different hand
As unwanted goods
Fester our sands

From discarded waste
To the oiled dead
Its the wanton garbage
Our beaches dread

For the sound of the breakers
Natures watery souls
And the volumes of gifts
Beachcombers goal


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature3.php

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Sara Kendrick July 10, 2009 at 1:06 PM Love the writing. We're going to the beach soon. I always look forward to collecting shells. We don't see much trash. I guess someone looks after getting up anything that is trash or garbage. Sara

Carolyn Devonshire July 10, 2009 at 12:27 PM Well, James, we were on the same page again! I just this week wrote a poem that I haven't posted; it deals with Mother Nature taking revenge for the despoiling of the oceans and beaches. Excellent write, James! Love you, Carolyn (I think the "breakers" in Ormond Beach are calling my name. Can you hear them, too?)