I walk on the deserted beach
listening to the ocean song;
the breeze holds my hand.
Is this where I belong?
I leave my footprints in the sand
feeling the grains between my toes.
Is it too late to dream,
I ask. Only God knows!
Premiere Contest No. 7 by Skat A
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
Little blue bird
without a name
It's you I heard
I play your game
High in that tree
You sing a song
And you want me
To fly along
The beach is near
But stars are far
A sky so clear
And then we are
Above the clouds
The clear blue sea
We sing out loud
Just you and me
May 30, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
How I love the sky, the sea and land.
Today I paint myself into a scene
of visual delight; though I'm on sand,
I dip my brush first into vivid green.
Tall trees are in my view far left and right.
I paint the path made out of stones that led
me to this beach which now is my escape!
I paint the sand, then dip into some red!
I'm all alone in my red bikini.
I like the fact that it’s in contrast to
the white of sand and forest’s verdancy.
But, oh, the backdrop is amazing blue!
My picture’s top half is the sea. Beyond
its tranquil surface, now my eyes are drawn
to hues of brightness of which I am fond
as twilight’s sky I am adding on.
Some tangerine with crimson I have swirled
onto the canvas, and the red’s the same
as my bikini! Finally, this world
I've been painting I inscribe with my name!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
Rough winds blowing
Washing wild waves ashore
Scattering about seashells
It always makes me want more
Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2015
Now I know that beach side picnics and sand
No matter how careful the planning go hand in hand
But it seems whether you sit or whether you stand
Nothing quite goes as you had planned
It doesn't really care where it goes
And I don't just mean between your toes
In your eyes and up your nose
And it doesn't smell like a bleeping rose!
In my shoes and down my shorts
I believe with demons this stuff consorts
To going naked I might resort
And I know I've swallowed at least a quart
When this picnic is over and back home I go
To the warm water of the showers flow
I'll wonder if your troubles are the same as mine
Do you have sand stuck where the sun doesn't shine?
Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2013
Birds doth fly above the sky,
flowers fair and nigh;
as the sun comes shining by,
wet white sand to dry.
Soft the breeze from gentlest seas,
sweetly strums guitar;
lassie sings of love and sees
sailor from afar.
HAVE YOU TRIED A 7/5 TROCHEE - POETRY CONTEST
SPONSOR : ANDREA DIETRICH
19 April 2015
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
Enraged muddy storm surges, crashed against
The white and red frame ocean shore tower
Panicking with a foreboding horror
The valiant old sailor gained strong power
Hurricane wind blows like a howling wolf
Darkening the afternoon in umbra
Clouding the vision of the azure sky
Eclipsing golden sun with penumbra
Escaping downstairs to preserve his life
Prayed fervently to calm his distressed soul
Ascertaining it was an angst nightmare
Reassuming the protection controul
For Sentinel Quatrain Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Copyright © Nayda Ivette Negron | Year Posted 2016
It was great fun at the Jersey Shore
flying our kite up high and away.
It is said, 'what goes up, must come down'
when laws of gravity have their way.
And so it did with a steep nose dive,
heading, it seemed, to the soft white sand.
But with a will of its own it chose
a cottage rooftop chimney to land.
Our kite went up, up high and away,
but only came down part way, that day.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: What Goes Up, Must Come Down
Sponsor: Catie Lindsay
Ocean Beach at the Jersey Shore, 2010. An electric company utility truck tried to take the kite down, but couldn't reach it with their bucket. Our kite was still there the next summer in 2011 but eventually was gone in 2012.
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Hold my hands and sing me to sleep
Before the dreams sink too deep
Through the night walk me to the shore
To a land where greetings are peaceful snores
Let the moon talk about the day
Let it tell off our journey to the bay
Let the stars carry me with the morning breeze
Back to the fields, the empty willow trees
Let the wintersun embrace the darkness in my head
Let it lift my soul from beneath the bed
Down the beach and on the shore
On the clouds with worries no more
Free of speech, my mind sinks to sleep
Free of love my heart trembles to keep
Free of fear, my shudders float astray
Free of noises my ears chase away
To safety to nothing make me see
To claim a state I may never be
Take me to the old willow tree
Where the white snow buried me
Copyright © Ziad Gadou | Year Posted 2014
Miles of broken, sunbaked seashells,
resembling pieces of porcelain of lesser value,
lying across a populous beach subdued by misty blue,
as hungry sea-gulls pounce the fiddler's crabs..
The beach entertainer draws huge crowds;
singing funny songs and making comic skits
by spicing up his unique modus operandi,
and modestly mocking his modus vivendi...
He has never made lots of money,
but settles for dollar bills to earn their sympathy;
dressed in tight and colorful ministrel's attire,
he amuses the public with his monkey-shine...
And he pulls out his fiddler and the crowds go wild,
awakening, by its high-pitched sound, a dope fiend,
who has built a temporary shack threatened by the blowing sand;
He puts on his sunglasses and disappears in the groovy sunshine...
The beach entertainer follows him, leaving everyone behind
saying," Sorry, brother...I didn't mean to wake you up, the bum turns around taking off his lenses.
and exclaims, " Music doesn't fill an empty and aching belly...and cheer up a feeble mind! "
" Here's all I got...take it and get something to eat!" He says stretching his hands.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009
The autumn sky is overcast.
The choppy sea is murky grey.
The flustered waves flop on the sand
where the two brothers are at play.
Their trousers rolled up to the knees
they tease the water with bare toes.
Each foot in turn sinks with a squelch
then up it comes and backward goes.
The boys have fun and run about.
The air is cool but they don’t care.
They do not miss the hidden sun;
Of sighing breeze are unaware.
Oh to be young and free of thoughts
that could lay heavy on the mind
and for a moment turn the clock
to distant years left far behind!
Paul Callus ~ 28th October 2015
Contest: Oil Paintings 1-2-3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
[Inspired by an Eve Roper painting.]
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
Here on the shore, no voices spoil
my peaceful time of early morn.
He comes to beckon where sands roil
on pristine beach as tides are born.
I call to calm the wind and sea
with victory of a rising sun.
Stirring the silence, he waits for me
to wash in waves before days done.
He guides me to his ocean deep
where blues and greens blend holding hands.
We laugh and watch the dolphins leap.
Then dive to rest on silky sand.
There on the ocean floor, I leave
my every worry, stress and care.
We rise to surface where we weave
our hopes and dreams, tomorrows shared.
Caressing salted skin, we sleep
here on the shore, no voices spoil.
Then out of water, blue oceans weep;
waves crash with dreams where harsh sands roil.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Our Robin’s nest on twenty-eighth bayside,
strung like the Kite’s Loft display.
Free and now flowed with the tide,
as we watched the sunrise of each day.
Center courts of youth and bouncing Penns
pushed full throttle jet skis into romances.
The moon lit footprints in amends,
as Hope laid us down with chances.
The sun’s vixens sat on boardwalk benches,
their penthouses held one night Seacrets.
Tired of searching for pearls in surf’s trenches,
an open air preacher passed out leaflets.
Dice throws into Fate and riptides,
doused by sea foam and sand bars.
Eastern block girls ran carousel rides,
their accents glazed smiles and fast cars.
Ribeye’s and tuna steaks on the grill,
Harbor Island’s slow gas dock --
a seventy-foot fishing boat it couldn’t fill.
Canvas Sperry’s dried on a sundial clock.
The one Turtle that sat near Jamestown,
looking up and down coastal highway.
The Greenest oasis we could find in uptown,
seagulls carried her eggs far away.
To days fully lived and expressed.
To what was held and what transcends.
To goodbyes and route fifty going west.
To that summer and all the friends.
Contest: Memories of the Sea
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015
Pen in hand or board with keys
Toil with verse and rhyme.
What disappoints might later please
Hasten borrowed time.
Chills run up and down my spine
To think of things I miss.
So much is gone that I called mine.
Tough to reminisce.
Years ago on any day
Far and wide I’d roam.
Busy with best friends at play
Seldom around home.
Now kids huddle on the floor—
Competing for the highest score,
Sit instead of run.
Guess I’ll wander at the beach—
Spend time along the shore.
Ponder all that life might teach
Had I a few years more.
With inspiration from and dedicated to Just That
Archaic Poet and the Quatrain King, Jack Ellison.
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013
As summer’s hope dreamt it had caught him,
days tallied boardwalk planks one by one.
Candles became golden skies burned dim
beyond evening’s watery sun.
How I tried to help you with my friend,
but she had built a sandcastle there.
Only time and advice left to lend
on a beach came that one morning’s glare.
Another wound to scar that bled youth,
ran over before it had begun.
By the grains of chance and a tanned truth,
tides washed another watery sun.
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015
A clear morning rose over the copper-tinged rocks,
the serene sky stayed the same after down;
but the lighthouse did not trust that calmness,
then a horrendous rumbling made it suddenly frown.
A apocalyptic event was to occur in minutes,
Poseidon rode his horses to impinge horror,
making the foaming waves resemble ghosts
who frightened the lighthouse with a loud roar.
The sentinel's foes weren't pirates, but the waves themselves,
and engulfed by those giants, it could barely fight or even breathe;
and doomed, she heard Poseidon's voice in the mouth of whales,
not glad with the volcano's eruption making waves boil and seethe.
Written on 4/12/2016
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016
AT THE WATER'S EDGE
As I sit here at the water's edge
I let the sand sift through my toes
I watch the sun rise in the east
Turn the sky a glorious, summer rose.
As it rises 'bove the skyline
A burgeoning orb now glows
A globe of fire then bursts forth
As the waves lap gently 'round my toes.
By midday it's a blinding ball of fire
Pouring searing heat like Hades' pledge
The beach's sand absorbs the raging heat
But it's serenely cool here at the water's edge.
© ELR 2013
Copyright © Miss Wattle | Year Posted 2013
To the beach, the sand , the waves
A summer day with no sense of hurry
Feet in the surf and the cry of the gull
Appreciating a day without worry...
Beyond the blue horizon such mystery
Known to the soaring bird on the wing
With a boat and dream I'd sail away
To look for the answers to many a thing.....
Just one day, in a book of singular days
A memory now, that day at the shore
But the essence of wind and the wave
With me now, asking for nothing more....
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013
(Dedicated to Silent One --
who doesn't like bigly words.)
After a gentle, soft Summer drizzle
Fine web filaments tingle and glisten
In rainbow beams of fusion sun sizzle --
Stirring all life forms to lift and listen.
It is the season of Creamsicle desires;
Thick leaf foliage, protective sanctuaries;
Creepers, crawlers, jumpers and fliers;
Time dilating into slow-motion centuries:
Conquering the beach -- girls so coy;
Never-ending hours of creative play;
Transcendental fishing -- such a joy;
Floating from Brooklyn to Tokyo Bay
Where the kaiju rise and we gasp a ghost
At their power and our sizable insignificance.
Flipping for monsters -- baseball for most --
Winning a mint-perfect Godzilla -- coincidence?
Independence rockets in the starry, starry night
Over rooftop celebrations of smoke and kissing,
White Castle, Coca-Cola -- and the pizza's alright!
Friends and lovers -- once upon a Summer missing.
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016
I’ve been thinking all day of nothing else but you,
Thinking of the love that is shared between us two.
Dreaming of the moments we will be together tonight,
Sharing a passion that can be nothing but right.
Come walk with me now alone on the beach,
I need you tonight, just within my reach.
My body yearns for your gentle touch,
My lips want to please you so very much.
I can’t wait to feel your hands in mine,
To imagine your lips on my own, so divine.
I’d love it if you took your tongue for a walk
Cause you won’t need it tonight to talk.
Let’s make love under the pale moonlight,
Then relax in each other’s arms under stars so bright.
Show me just what I mean to you, my sweet,
And I will do the same when on this beach we meet.
Copyright © Jenni Kalicharan | Year Posted 2016
My wife is a hardheaded lady
So when she makes up her mind
Whatever it is that she wanted
Is just a matter of time
She wanted a family vacation
Everyone must make the scene
Including our kids and their families
We are a group of sixteen
The first one took us to Oregon
To a motel on the beach
Although everyone had lots of fun
It was just too far to reach
The next one was also held out of town
A nice place on Lake Chelan
With boats and skis and a swimming pool
Everyone thought it was grand
Went to Lake Chelan for two more years
Then we found a brand new spot
It was a big lodge in Idaho
We all loved that place a lot
We had that big lodge all to our self
It was on Lake Pend Oreille
It rained the whole week were there
We played games inside all day
Even though we had that bad weather
The vacation was the best
The place so big, kids played hide-and-seek
Good visit, fun games and rest
We returned there again the next year
It has its dock and bay
Water sports, fishing and paddle boats
Then someone sold it away
The next year’s vacation was different
We rented two large house boats
A week boating on Lake Roosevelt
I got sick and almost croaked
Then we went to Marrowstone Island
To my daughter’s new beach place
They caught crabs and clams, then bought oysters
Crammed sea food into our face
Then the guy boated to Port Townsend
But when they were coming back
Yellow boat died in the ferry’s lane
They barely avoided a smack
The next year it was back to Lake Chelan
But at a different place
One of the kids brought a small scooter
Road it all around the place
Two years ago, back to the beach house
Played games and had lots of sun
The tenth family vacation for us
For two year’s now there’s been none
My wife and think it is so sad
To lose such a tradition
Let’s start now and plan one for next year
That is this poem’s mission
NOTE: There always seems to be confusion on pronouncing Chelan, but the locals say it "shuh-LAN" (short "A").
Also, Pend Oreille is pronounced "PAWN-do-RAY"
Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011
I seek a dip in the ocean
Its cold, aggressive waters are therapy
It seems all of my troubles can slip away
With the rift of the turbulent sea
Walking across the warm sand
Its texture both heals and wounds
Reshaping and softening the skin
Working its way into every groove
That initial lick of ocean froth
As innocent as a salty kiss
Betrays the nature of its icy embrace
And the magnitude of the abyss
The current is stronger than I am
I am tossed and thrown about
At times I am not sure I will wind up
At the surface or be pulled down!
But once beyond the sluicing waves
I am in a paradise of tranquility
Alone, awakened and restored
I swim until the shore can barely be seen
Once home, the ocean scent lingers
Perfuming my hair and dreams
And as I nap, I am carried back
To the lullabye of the sea
Copyright © Mindy Gregersen | Year Posted 2011
Sitting on the beach
I close my weary eyes
To hear the rushing waves
When they land its their goodbye
Sitting on the beach
Sounds of nature all around
Children playing in the sands
Their happiness abounds
Sitting on the beach
Soft breezes grace my face
The reeds reply with whistles
Whilst the gulls glide their space
Sitting on the beach
Enjoying the sun rays on my face
There is no better place to be
For sure this is the place
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
When my kids were small and for several years
We rented a beach house on the Gulf coast
Where the sand was white and the water clear
And the sunshine would feel as warm as toast
Both Bruce and Mary Ann would join us there
In those days, we had the beach to ourselves
A week of fun without a single care
Fish, swim and see sand castles built by elves
Just clear water from shore to the sand bar
It turns to a dark blue where it gets deep
This day, Bruce and I were out pretty far
Lying on air mattresses half asleep
Some people on shore, strolling up the beach
We both heard them when they started to yell
They were screaming Shark! Shark! The sharks out there!
Scared shitless, started paddling like hell
Bruce is a tall guy, about six foot two
While at my best, I stand five foot seven
With those long arms of his, his mattress flew
Way behind, I was praying to heaven
Then it happened, I fell off the mattress
Legs hanging down and floundering around
Looking more like shark bait, increased the stress
Fear was eminence; then my feet hit the ground
Waded to shore, Bruce walked over to me
“Take a look over there, was do you see?”
No sharks, just a few porpoise swimming free
Yet, out there, FEAR was as great as can be
Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012
The Red Parasol
Into this painting, I am drawn,
reflecting times of long ago:
a beach with shoreline of tall grass;
two lovely girls with skirts that flow.
How do they feel on this warm day
in their full dresses with long sleeves
beneath the sun and air so still...
perhaps, at times, a gentle breeze.
And one with her red parasol
to block the scorching sun a bit;
I wonder if she feels the heat
but with her charm, just suffers it.
And there, the cooling waters wait...
so very close, and yet so far.
It doesn't seem they are prepared
to wade in sea off that sandbar.
They calmly sit, enjoy the beach
take in the salty summer air.
Two lovely girls with skirts that flow...
one 'neath red parasol...just stare.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: The Red Parasol by Alfred Glendening
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Over and over I play the scene in my mind.
The day I let go of God's hand. Only to be left behind.
My purpose in life is a long and winding path.
In fear of tomorrow. Scared today is my last.
Lost in a world that is dark and grim.
Everytime my path is lit my lamp is out of oil again.
As I reevaluate my life it's all 20/20
I stumble in a rut and land to my knees crying.
As I come to my senses I am greeted by a superior being.
Quieting me mentally to keep me from worrying.
With a gleem in his eye he stops to stare.
Then I get this feeling I have nothing to fear.
He held out his hand as if to Rise.
I could tell that he cares. I see it in his eyes.
Now when I look back there are one set of prints in the sand.
Because when in need God came to me and gave me a hand.
Copyright © Christina Hons | Year Posted 2015
Salty sea spray hurls moist fragrance;
Waves lashing wide strange melody;
Moods change and swirl with bright radiance;
Setting sun glides ever swiftly.
Last light will fall upon the sea;
Sky colours leach with fading sun;
Dark will bring gall with fading trees;
Now each to each stray lovers run.
Cicadas voice a June collage;
Frogs integrate a croaking muse;
Night birds rejoice wild entourage;
Why be afraid as you cruise.
Abruptly see through broad walk lights;
Struggle to stretch your eyeballs wide;
Mingle and be one with the night;
Come now and catch the windy stride.
Unknown faces appear and pass;
Keep still and watch the dance of dark;
Feel moist traces of rain in gust;
Wet winds to dodge in weary park.
Let us depart these dreary shores
Where darkness breeds a certain dread;
Let's make a start to feel light more
As poise now seeds peace unafraid.
28 June 2014
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
Beth met James on the nudist beach,
Splashing and crashing around.
He had revived her with mouth to mouth,
After she’d nearly drowned.
And Bruce met Frank on the nudist beach,
Sunbaking on the sand.
They’d rubbed lotion all over one another,
As they both had slowly tanned.
Then Shelly met Coral on the nudist beach,
They both played in the water.
Shell was there as a friend of Bruce,
And Coral was James’ daughter.
All seemed fun on the nudist beach,
From a distance they all got along.
The invisible was the anxiety,
The things that were really wrong.
Beth thought she was defined by her weight,
And James thought he was too thin.
And Bruce had only just come out to Shell,
And Frank had just buried his twin.
And Shelly’d just left an abusive relationship,
With a woman who was emotionally screwed.
And Coral detested the scars on her body,
Compensating by overeating her food.
But on the beach no one judged,
No one shamed or embarrassed or humiliated.
They all respected, appreciating their company,
A natural life they’d wholeheartedly celebrated.
They had all met on a nudist beach,
It was a place of honest and free and of pure.
They could each be their instinctive self,
The nudist beach was their natural cure.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016
In my youth, summer meant spending my days at the beach,
Trying to get that ultimate dark tan,
A large bottle of baby oil always within reach,
Laying out and sizzling like bacon in a pan!
In my mature years the beach is still a lot of fun,
I spread my towel evenly upon the sand,
Staying under the umbrella’s shade and never in the sun,
With my bottle of SPF 50 always close at hand!
written on 2/21/16 for "Two Lenses" contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2016
Chauffeur drove us to the beach for a stroll
to get some air, fun, sun and sand
I remembered to carry my favorite red parasol
so my fragile skin doesn’t burn orange
Mary, my sister, went to her first ball last week
She looked so forlorn every day since then
Today,she opened her heart to speak
as the waves hungrily licked the rock she sat on.
I let the warm balmy sea breeze tousle my hair
She disclosed the Count’s son had asked her to dance
My sister, coming of age, exquisitely lovely and fair
had lost her sole heart to the young man at once
Next day, a bouquet of flowers, arrived for the Miss
with an invitation to tour the Count’s estate
Mary was worried whether and how to kiss
if the occasion or her prince insisted on it
The deep blue of the ocean ensnared my eyes
Mary blushed and crumbled looking at the flowers
while I thought would it be ladylike and wise
to ask our ladies’ maid the proper way to kiss a guy.
My chance to date will be in a couple of years
I ask the rolling waves what to expect by then
Surely, I think, some things must change gears
“Kiss or no kiss”, should be discussed like our ensemble.
Copyright © Sara Chansarkar | Year Posted 2016