Poetry Beach Poems

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Details | Couplet |
  ~ Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P. S. ~

When it comes to a friendly hi!
One of the best poetry, hearts we can't deny!

Our Sweetheart Linda Marie
No one is smoother and sweeter than her- our peach tree

Always stopping by to say hi, no matter, rain/sleet or snow
Her contest Zany Zoo, one of the soups best show

A woman who never judged me from the start
Linda Marie, thank you for being such a sweetheart

Sharing her delightful poems,  a double doze for me
Oh Me- Oh My- That woman can write so much poetry!

I am sure she is loved by the poetry soup staff
LOL! How this blonde bombshell  made us laugh

Remember, when she took her laptop to a sandy Island 
She smiled, and shared, how the laptop was damaged with so much sand

Hanging out with Linda, it's like singing "Kumbaya my Lord"-- I felt her holding my hand
How sweet of Linda, when she invited us to meet her new Husband?

Linda Marie is loved by her very own BBF team
Letting us know, life has been more than a dream

Her heart so big, she worried when her BFF's weren't around
Leaving notes, making sure we have not hit a poet break down

She keeps us in her heart when we are not logged in
Her beautiful and clever/witty poem will forever remain 

Most of her poetry made me smile
Linda Marie's poetry had so much Style!

We prayed for you when we heard about your son
Thank you for sharing your faith in God. -Linda You're #1

A poet I highly recommend
Linda Marie my poetry soup best friend

Dedicated to:
~Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P. S. ~ 2012
~I"M gonna miss you, 2013
Happy birthday to you :-(  Don't leave, 2013

NEW NOTE:  
(STILL MISSING YOU) Love always, YOUR BFF -- 2014
Sending my Heart, To one of the soups Leading Ladies
RIP. Linda-Marie Bariana You are forever loved

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010




Details | Light Poetry |
Every night I think of you With eyes full of love I come to you in a dream you won`t remember `Neath sik weaved sheets I hold your hand Upon your pilllowcase I leave my kiss in a short memory you won`t recall To the wet sand I tiptoe slowly following footprints which aren`t there 'Nesth cross-stitched stars I walk the path of a sweet destiny so long forgotten where fingers once played with my brown hair With the shadow of the moon I dance Just make pretend I`m there with you Along the shore I pick the pebbles which once we tossed into the blue A sound I hear in walking distance Must be the voice of someone else Or could it be your hush~hushed whisper Asking me gently for one last dance

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
 A moonrise over the bluff
 the earth is alive
 showing off her beauty in a ray of colors
 As the waves roll in hitting the sandy shore
 there's no place you would rather be
 a perfect moment in a perfect place
 nothing but you & the sea
 & as the 
 earthly winds whisper along your face
 you feel the freedom wash along your feet
 a moonrise captured 
 sitting so high 
 you thank the universe your alive..
 

Inspired by a photo taken at a beach where I grew up.

Copyright © kerry singleton | Year Posted 2013




Details | Verse |
is it the wave kissing the sand 
or is it the ocean
- deep from her heart
sometimes gently,
often hard,
but always with passion?

is it the sand kissing back
or is it the land
- happily losing ground 
with every kiss
to his eternal mistress,
the occupant of his soul?

is it this poem touching your heart
or is it our souls
- hugging each other
on a sandy beach,
wide and infinite,
day in and day out?



Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
Cast Away
Waiting for you makes me feel
Like a cast away in Malden
So much golden sand
To slide my bare feet in

My feet feel each hot grain
Fills between each toe
Sun bakes the air around me
As I feel the warm wind blow

My eyes see an endless sight
Of such blue I can't take in
The waves, the crests, the tides
Loneliness, running thin

Waiting for you makes me feel
Should I hope you’d ever come?
I spend the day collecting seashells
Inevitably missing some

I’ll stare out into blue’s madness
Until the heat burns out my eyes
And never stop looking for you
Where the ocean meets the sky

Planes of rescue flew over me
While waves have eaten this coastline

I'm going mad in my sadness

Somehow wishing you would be mine

Copyright © Lauren Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
Upon a beach I came to stand
And watched a child at play. 
He did while playing in the sand
A point of life convey. 

With scoops and buckets he did build 
A structure tall and grand. 
And to the child the beach did yield 
A castle made of sand. 

But as he left, I do recall, 
Away I did not turn. 
And with the coming night would fall
A lesson to be learned. 

The tide came in, with force did strike, 
The castle could not stand. 
And I was shown how life is like
A castle made of sand. 

And man is but a child at play, 
His works they will not last. 
For all he builds within days
Shall be by time surpassed. 

Each thing we do, Each thing we say, 
Each notion we conceive,
They all to soon shall pass away, 
Yes, this I do believe. 

We leave no mark, we leave no trace
That shall forever stand 
Be sure my friend time will erase
Our days however grand.

Copyright © Stan Bradford | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
Peering down from a window seat,
she closed her eyes and she sensed the heat,
the plane made its final approach,
and she didn’t mind flying coach,
the land meets the ocean on the east,
and it was emerald green,
that could be seen
from her window,
perfectly manicured hedges and lawns,
graceful coconut palms,
and backyards dotted with pools,
tennis courts and yard tools,
to an outsider it would seem,
that Palm Beach was like a dream,
glamourous in every way,
larger than life, so they say,
beautiful and mysterious like a good book,
worth every moment shared,
worth every look,
highway filled with fancy cars,
host to kings, tycoons and movie stars,
and now a little girl,
heading to a fantasy world.

Copyright © Frank F. Atanacio | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
Dug deep down inside
and pulled out the memory file
about being a child
with my family for
a rare outing at Jones Beach,
we were all there with
my Moms picnic basket,
just in case we got hungry,
we'd eat one of her special treats,
My Mom didn't like the water
and especially the ocean,
so she sat on her beach towel,
applying suntan lotion,
the rest of us going for
a swim for some cool relief,
my Dad diving in first
to show his swimming techniques,
from how to tread water
if we couldn't land on our feet,
to how to cup our hands,
and stroke with our arms
in a nice easy rhythm,
I could tell my Dad was on
a teaching how to swim mission,
then some of us took a leisurely
stroll on the beach shore,
while some of us ran when
we noticed horseshoe crabs
eerily congregating,
my Dad picked a couple of them
up by their tail,
and after inspecting them
threw them way up in the air,
where they'd land somewhere
in one of the waves,
landing precariously with
a very loud splash,
I thought to my 7 year old self,
with pride and love in my heart,
my Dad is so very brave,
when were on the beach
he is my hero because
he makes me feel so safe!

Addendum: My deceased Dad was a terrific swimmer who worked as a police officer on a police boat for the Marine Bureau on Long Island, N.Y. from 1955-1985…rest in peace Dad. We love and miss you...

Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
they walk in suite
that are thin
ask how didn't they get in
its so tight
you see thur right
you can't help but stare
back out and bare
where i live theyer near
those lady
SUMMER BEACH WEAR

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2012

Details | Haiku |
Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth 

Copyright © Christian Childs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Are we having fun yet?
I think I’m doing everything right.

The three-hour drive only took four hours.
My postage stamp of beach is
staked out and blanketed.
Soda and Kool-Aid float in
tepid water in the cooler.
Beach towels, bathing suits, balls,
umbrellas, goggles, fins, chips,
hats, sun block, sand toys, lawn chairs,                   
and Solarcaine are near at hand.

I know, you see, because I carried them
across every damn inch of a quarter mile
of burning sand while the kids chased
seagulls and picked Cheetos off the
ground.

Are we having fun yet?

Sand has invaded personal spaces
even my gynecologist hasn’t seen.
My hair has twisted itself into Rasta locks,
saltwater style, and I can actually
see the freckles exploding like popcorn.
I lie down. I open a book. I am promptly surrounded.

“Mommy, it’s hot. We want to go home.”

Are we having fun yet?

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Romanticism |
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.

Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.

O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.

And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?

You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.

My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.

Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.

Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.

My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.

Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.

It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Big island beckons Sun and surf are paradise; Hawaii calling.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |
E-Z Glo Punk, Lightning Flash,
TNT Devices will burst, do crash
Southern Night, Piccolo Petes
       are hard to beat...

I like hand held Sparklers, Tanks
 flashing fountains, Solar Flare
 Six to #20 Gold I have to share,
 no incidence, no burns, thanks...

  Whistles blow, fountains glow,
 pop'n sounds, entire sky all aglow
 I love those colors, high an low
  trails eched onto my retina
  inspired me to let ya know

  Now you close both eyes
in pitch dark, what a surprise
  for you to see, right there
 darkness, absolutely  anywhere
beautiful trails of lights in motion
 
"Always read a label of caution"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Heaven shines brighter
over the ocean with diamonds in her hair.

Copyright © Eve Chilicas | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
I won't be home
not For Christmas
nor for funerals
not for birthdays
Wanted to never see you
on those days so hard to get through.

When you abandoned the sweetness
and chased your dream into the alley
When you thought it best to see me cry

When your mind changed with the direction of the wind 
I stood there with spit on my finger tips...
holding my hand in the air,Waiting for the winds of hope
to blow your love and loyalty in my direction

Home is a strange city
where no one knows me.
where no one will invite me to sit across the table
and try to smile as I play with my stuffing on china with flowers
As I remember the children laughing and opening gifts.
I remember the long silent ride back to our house.

I think back when I got on my knees
before climbing into our cold bed 
The prayers just uttered coming back void.
Ask God to just let you touch me again
I needed your body-heat to keep warm.
I needed your support to continue on 
for the sake of the commitment.

For the sake of waiting for love to remind you
Even if pity could hold you there..
I would not be ashamed of what you sacrificed
When love had given birth to pity-
I would have held on without pride.

Now I never want to come back to that town.
Where no one cares that you don't love me.
I am in remission.
Alone but it's OK.
Please tell our future to visit me. 
On the seashores. 
The sun warms me in
my new home 
where no one knows me.
All my old friends are 
dead and dying.So...

I won't be home
not For Christmas
nor for funerals
not for birthdays
Wanted to never see you
on those days so hard to get through.

Just my spirit and the ocean.
and one day tell our grandchildren
Grandma will be here walking;
With one finger in the air moistened with spit.
to see which way the wind blows.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
What a grate dey it is
Sonny whether and awl
Let's wring in Spring Brake   
Thyme for fun, half a bawl.  

Cum on, let's get aweigh
and lei on the beech
reed books by the serf
sea and bee scene.

Wheel watch waives bye the peer
Whet hour feat and hour tows
Ewe just mite meat Mr. Write
Theirs a chants, who nose?




Written on 3/23/2015
For "Only Homos Allowed" Poetry Contest 

Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
this is a dish
we all wish
its come vacation time
you have summer in mind
so run have fun
be a beach bummer
ENJOY YOUR SUMMER
ITS NEVER FADE

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
A gray dawn, a dark twilight.
 Daybreak, dawn, dusk.
A flash of lightening across the horizon.
 Windswept trees, in all bent shape, 
Such is the result due to harsh winds 
 That travel for miles and miles.
And we have no knowledge from where it came from
 Or where it is going.
But that its travel continues across the daunting mass
 Called; Ocean.
Oh how it churns the water.
 I can feel the mist and spray cover my body
And tingle my hands.
 Standing in the shallow the air blows about me
With sandy hair raging like fire, slapping my face.
 A feeling of unknown,
Watching angry waves become violent.
 And a shiver of coldness, trembles my body.
A sense of peace,
 I have one thought;
Where did it come from?                                       

Copyright © Elizabeth Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
GUESS WHO’S COMING…
(Apropos My Island Home..)

The sun slowly sunk
its exhausted reddish-orange
head into the waiting sea’s 
soothing sky blue bosom.

Excited white mane waves
splashed upon the waiting shore;
leaving the froth of their tears dissipating
in stilled sand soaked with haunting memories
of the disembarkation of stinking slave ships.

At the entrance gate of the sea wall,
a newly painted sign read: Guest Only.
Sighting my ebony epidermal hue,
red coral eyes of a bleeding conscience
painfully motioned me to move on:

Pity, you can’t be a guest
in your own yard. 

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
I long for the open sea while gentle waves call to me in my sleep
Dreams of salt air and a boundless horizon
No words ride the night, yet I hear her song and know her voice.

Stand I here at waters' edge while the moon bids her rise to greet me
To embrace her as she beckons me to follow
To become one with her, or perish in the striving

Marooned, here I stand on this island in the sun
Afraid to plunge into the depths, I am rooted…captive
Denying myself passage to that distant horizon

O happy tide, would that I were as free to leave

Copyright © Christopher Thor Britt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
On Pebble Beach's seventh green
I paused to watch an otter.
He dove, cavorted, spun around,
An acrobat on water.
Then lolling, drifting, eyeing me
He twitched brown nose and whiskers.
His thought, that moment, mirrored mine:
"He plays all day, that rascal."

Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |
He comes, a seaside golem,
walking like Frankenstein’s monster
because sand has filled the crack in his
behind, and his feet are shod in at least
two pounds of beach.
He carries his pail and shovel.

“Mommy, I have fun!” he chirps.

And I love him in spite of his sandy behind,
in spite of the leaden feet
and the grit in his hair,
in spite of the fact that I know who’ll be
removing the sand.

I love him because he’s my golem,
and, well, he had fun.

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
On a bright day
I will be
Grabbing a drink at the bar
Brighton Beach, it seems so far
Coney Island is where you'll find me
Sideshows and Hotdogs
Where I need to be.

Copyright © Jillian Sabecky | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
                                     
As I gazed into the sky in the middle of the night, to my surprise I saw an object coming towards me from the moon.
From an object it turned into a fascinating creature, from a fascinating creature it became an indescribable paragon of beauty.

She was so seductive and attractive. I could not resist her. Her love is like an ocean that has o end. 
She is like an angel that has no spot or wrinkle.
Her hair is like the expensive wool of Lebanon.
Her lips, so smooth and attractive
Her tongue, instinctively seductive and ravishing

To my surprise and amazement, she turned her back at me methodically and rhythmically.
She mysteriously shook her waist and I saw the most well carved art work of the Creator.

I saw her well-constructed behind invitingly stirring at me.
How could I resist such one in a lifetime offer?
Then turning directly towards me, I saw the most tempting and sensuous breasts in the whole universe.

Both breasts danced like a football in the field of play.
Now, I am trapped. No way out. Who will rescue me from this illusion. Illusion? No, I would rather call it fantasy. But no, it became a reality that I cannot but face.

Oh! Queen of the night you are just a relic of pleasurable island of paradise and unending love.
Please take me on a ride to your world of Eldorado.
Queen of the night 
You are my queen of the night.

Copyright © Raphael Adegoke | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Tiny grains of sand,
so hot yet, soft to the touch;
lovely beach bedding.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
High noon sun would soon turn

Her petite, ruddy face into one freckle

She rubbed the juice from a fresh lime

Across her brow so the bangs might bleach

The white sand brushed the strand

and aquamarine surf that cut a split on the Caye

reflected mint green off the lens of her Wayfarers

 

Almost lathered in coconut oil

Her cutis emitted the scent of sandalwood

And warm mackeroons

Her smile hinted of a sweet, pitted apricot

Its puckered core with eyes closed

Waiting for that first kiss

That would never come

 

I met her in the morning last week

On the corner of happy and chirpy

The day she tossed her cookies in the street

And swore off cashew wine and meat pie

Her tummy hadn’t been the same since;

The because of a picnic basket brimming

With plain yogurt and sourdough sticky buns

 

“Look at that phosphorescent fish” she exclaimed

Spurting seawater that had backed up

in the snorkel tube into my eyes, her mask

catawampus across her cheeks

“I think you mean fluorescent” retorted I

“it is all the same” she beamed

And smacked her face back into the water

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle

And dove down so she would not notice

Shadows off the palm leaves told me

It was time to head back to the water taxi

With what remained of her chartreuse

Lipstick, she now resembled a fried crustacean

It made me hungry and I longed for croutons

 

She either talked or sang something like

A muzzled version of Del Shannon’s “Down in the Boondocks”

The entire trip

When we docked her now blond locks

Sheared her rostrum and her

White teeth winked at me

Oh my …. Shall I say goodbye?

Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2012

Details | Romanticism |
I walked alone
along a sandy and lonely beach.
The raging waves from the sea
crashed onto the slimy sea shore.
The riding waves were white and bare,
but when they violently crashed, turned white and black.

I walked along the lonely beach.
Listening to the seagulls chatting
on silver rocks and boulders.

I sat near the shore.
The waves coing in and out
crashing violently on the silver rocks and boulders.
I sat there, lonely skipping pebbles into the vase and endless sea.
The waves came in and swallowed the pebbles, I threw its way.

The sea crabs wabbling from side to side, came up from the shore.
They kept me company on a lone and quiet evening.
A lone dog walking without an owner
came and curled up next to me,
and barked at the chattering seagulls.
They flew in panic toward the setting of the Red Sun,
and disappeared into the evening paradise.

The lone dog gazed upon the red sheld sea crabs,
and chased their wabbling bodies away
back down to the slimy sea shore.
And at the setting of the evening, I was alone.

Soon I had seen something
that had shocked me,
A young and beautiful gypsy woman.
She crossed my path along the lonesome beach.
All of a sudden the beach became full with love and life of all kind.

The lilacs, and roses, and violets and daisies
grew tall and bloomed, like madmen.
The waves pulled in by the full moon,
that shinned upon me and the Gypsy Woman.
She was decorated with ragged skirts and blouses,
with shinny, white pearls around her neck,
and golden bracelets around her wrists.

She smiled at me.
I smiled back at her.
Her hair black, with a vail of flowers around her head.
She stopped me and held my hand.
I was astonished and afraid.

What was this stunning and beautiful woman doing to me?
A victim of lost love and heartbrake.
I had no money, no jewlery.
I asked her what she wanted.
She replied with loneliness in her voice;
"To be loved."

I pulled her in, and kissed her,
and whispered softly in her ear,
decorated with silver earrings;
"Me too."

We joined hands and walked the lonesome sandy beach.
Listening to the waves, now softly coming in and pulling out.
The shore, now not so slimy, 
and the silver rocks and boulders sleeping so peacefully.
I turned to her and she smiled at me.
I held her in my arms and kissed her upon her sweet brow.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
kids love to play
summer its everyday
making sand ball
near the ocean fall
they love the beach
holding hands
KIDS AND BEACH SAND

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
the salty wind blowing from far, far away
read me a poem today
whose lines I've heard before,
bur where and when,
I couldn't tell:

"the shortest road is the one 
that you know, 
 the longest road is the one 
that you love"

soaked in deep thoughts,
I sat there for hours and hours
my eyes shut, lips dry
waiting for further clues
until, as a sudden,
the 'longest way' part rang a bell

I got off the chair,
opened my arms wide towards the ocean
hugged and kissed the wind,
the almightiest messenger of them all,
for making me feel again 
so well. 

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016