Beach Grandfather Poems | Beach Poems About Grandfather
These Beach Grandfather poems are examples of Beach poems about Grandfather. These are the best examples of Beach Grandfather poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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THE SOUL FISH
Down onto the sunny - but windless beach - one dayMy grandfather and I on the water’s edge - we stayed
The gentle ebb of the waters flow in and out - it goesLapping with delightful sensation in between my toes
Just at the water’s edge very faintly you could just seeA very flat sole fish just wavering and looking up at me
My Grandfather - told me to this fish we must respectFor inside this sole fish a dead departed soul was kept
I looked at the fish and the very sole fish looked at meAnd in its eyes - the soul of a departed - looking at me
Now my Grandfather has now departed and I am bereftFor the heartfelt message that just for me he never left
Now with each day - it is down to the water’s edge I goJust waiting for my beloved Grandfather’s soul to show
Dedicated to my Grandfather - Donald ShawMarket Gardener - Whitley - Bay . . .
Indiana Shaw . . . -_-
Copyright © Indiana Shaw | Year Posted 2016
Spread your wings, dear child, and fly
to where the green sea meets blue sky;
run on the crests of gentle waves
and grab the sunlight as it raves
about the brightness of the day;
float with the sea gulls as they sway
upon the friendly winds, and dive
with playful dolphins as they jive
in the cool waters of the bay.
Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2013
In his damp, snail smelly, back yard, water boiled in a vat.
"Hurry honey", said Grandpa, "the tide has just gone out".
In my six year old mind, we were in for a "great big treat".
Willingly, I'd fill my bucket full with sand crabs we'd all eat.
Overcast dark sky and dank fishy cold wind didn't dampen
spirits while scanning wet sand for holes that were sunken.
Intently digging, then oh so thrilled, I yelled,"I found one!"
Clunk! Into my little tin sand bucket it fell; one prize won.
Sadly looking, seagulls mocking, I'd managed only eight.
Grandpa smiled, dumped them in the vat with, "GREAT"!
Copyright © Charlene McCutcheon | Year Posted 2014
George Morris was my Gramps, a real fine man.
He was a Poitier or Cary Grant.
We went to the Island they call Coney,
and on his back, I’d ride the giant waves.
I’d laugh so hard he’d feel my stomach shake.
Which made him give almost a slight "Ha, Ha"
He said, ‘’You need to close your mouth real tight,
or you will end up with a lunch of sea.''
Upon his back I waited for the next.
It was a wave as big as all that day.
I closed my mouth as we sailed straight to shore,
and when it broke we both loosed "Ha Ha Ha."
How nice it was to share, just he and I,
the surf, the sand, the ocean and sea air.
My first time at a Raw Bar eating clams,
fond traces of the good times that we had.
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2016