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Beach Tribute Poems | Beach Poems About Tribute

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

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Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

the day you flew to Heaven

           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Just A Day At The Beach

From the tips, of her white foam caps
To the bottom of her swells
The depth of our Love for her
Only the Ocean can retell 
As we sat on pristine beaches
Kissed by waves upon our feet
Calling Us to join in with her
On this nautical Retreat

With her coolness, She caressed us
On that hot and sunny day
There, in the depths of her bosom 
She allowed us both to play
And when the sun began to set
On her wrinkled, deep blue skin
We both marveled at Her beauty 
Then swore, to return, again

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...

it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

The Soul Fish


Down onto the sunny - but - windless beach one day . . . 
My grandfather and I on the water’s edge we stayed . . . 

The gentle ebb of the waters flow - in and out - it goes . . . 
Lapping with delightfully sensation between my toes . . . 

Just at the water’s edge - very faintly you could just see . . . 
A very flat sole fish - just waiting - and looking at me . . . 

My Grandfather - told me - to this fish we must respect . . . 
For inside this sole fish - a dead departed soul was kept . . . 

I looked at the fish - the very flat sole fish looked at me . . . 
And in its eyes - the soul of the departed - looking at me . . . 

Now my Grandfather has departed - and I am bereft . . . 
For the heartfelt message just for me - he never left . . . 

Now with each day - it is down to the water’s edge I go . . . 
Waiting - for my beloved Grandfather’s soul to show . . . 

Indiana Shaw . . . -_-

Copyright © Indiana Shaw | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |


Child  in you "playing" on the beach,
Collecting roughened watered stones and shells,
Others  don't like to hear "Let your PRESENCE fall om me."

Copyright © Rainbow Promise | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

The West Palm Beach Police

My hats off to the West Palm Beach Police.
Protecting the citizens every day of the week.
Putting their lives on the line for me and you.
If they weren’t there, I wonder what we’d do.

Often cops get a bad reputation
But if you look closely, there’s often an explanation.
Would you risk your life as they have pledged to do.
Or are you complaining how much they make for what they do.

If you get pulled over for speeding you’re just stuck
And say to yourself, why me, of all the luck.
But they’re just doing a job, being told what to do.
In their eyes they’re still protecting me and you.

I’ve had my share of encounters with the West Palm Beach police.
When the alarm went off in the middle of the night, interrupting my sleep.
And when it wasn’t a false alarm, and my business had been entered,
I was pleased how much they cared, I was at their center.

In recent years I’ve had the chance to have extended conversations.
With these brave Indian warriors protecting our reservation.
And what I’ve learned from them in these interludes
That you have no real idea about their attitude.

They see the worst of us on a daily basis.
And take it home with them and spoil their home’s oasis.
I wonder how they take it, every night and every day.
A brave commitment is what they have, this is what I say.

I’ve never ever tell you what caused me to write
About the West Palm Beach Police, which I wrote last night.
All I can say, is that they earn their pay, no matter what you say
And come the day, hope it not may, you’ll be the first to say

Thank you.

© 2012 Guy Chaifetz

Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2012