Best Beach Poems
Grim fog, I praise the shelter of your drear,
the sundown ghost morose not grandiose,
I walk alone - but, no -- with my despair;
a bittern bids a bitter adiós.
The breakers so in agony they gnash
and gnaw the strand with thrash of foamy green,
the tempest witch brings ironfisted lash
alas, the eye-of-storm epiphany unseen.
Free, free! The tern who flies in Gemini
above beloved peak and shore and wave,
sun-painted wings, away you went -- so spry,
so fierce! Bluebird pierced and buried in your grave,
..and the stars understand; a fateful fall into the sea --
Damn the deep! It’s jostle docile.. my scream to meet the scree!
Susan Ashley
June 29, 2021
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mille 11
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Contemporary Sonnet
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
*bittern: any of several tawny brown herons
*scree: an accumulation of weathered rock fragments at the foot of a cliff
*a Modern / Contemporary Sonnet is a poem of 14 lines addressing any theme of the poet's choosing. It does not need to adhere to any set rhyme scheme, syllable count or meter, nor does it need to include a volta. The only true requirement of a modern sonnet is that it consists of 14 lines*
I walked in darkness along the shore
seeking only solitude and nothing more
Thunder drummed from somewhere far away
like foreboding timpani as clouds began to play
They competed with the roar of bally waves
crashing to the beach in rhythmic laves
Everything was out of reach for me
the moon, the stars, the depth of the sea
Echoes of a nocturne were swirling in my head
Lyrics left unsung, but spoken instead
My soprano continued; the falsetto stopped
Too weak to stand, on my knees I dropped
My footprints had been erased by an ebbing tide
No longer able to run. I chose not to hide
Blind in the darkness, my loneliness daunting
a flash of lightning, then another more taunting
I lifted my eyes to the sky, to the falling rain
its sting delivered in a medley, staccatos of pain
On the edge of the sea, I waited for the end of me
My tears an ensemble, an elegy in requiem plea
I ignored the orchestra when I heard the ocean call
louder than kettle drums or the storm's howling squall
No encore would this night be able to reprise
When the flowing tide encroached, I closed weary eyes
A chorus of waves crashed like cymbals in concerto
stealing the baton from the hand of the Maestro
The moon and stars were out of reach for me
I wept as I was swept into the depth of the sea
August 28, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 13 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
She collected sea shells, I collected sand
She collected sea shells,
I collected sand
She searched for the perfect one
I reached down my hand
I carried a bucket
A basket she did whirl
Mine was filled with tiny grains
Hers with mother of pearl
She came out each morning
Me, just late at night
She adored the sunrise
I loved the moon light
Then one day it happened
My alarm clock didn’t ring
I woke to a rising sun
It was the weirdest thing
I ran down to the shoreline
My bucket in my hand
It’s then I saw her gorgeous face
While I collected sand
I found a perfect seashell
And watched her eyes grow wide
She held out her basket
I placed the shell inside
Then she reached down before me
And gathered in her hand
I held out my bucket
She filled it up with sand
And now each day and evening
We walk along the shore
She told me that she loves me
And her I do adore
So if you see us out there
Strolling hand in hand
Know...she’s collecting sea shells
And I’m collecting sand
This is one I posted when I first arrived here, I thought I'd share it again. :)
Dark honey tanned skin glistens
From the moisture of humidity.
The ladies flirt shamelessly with
You, but your eyes gaze upon me.
Your stature looms at six foot three.
Your swimmer's shoulders impress.
In our island sea we swim leisurely,
Traces of salt remain as you dress.
White sandy beaches, ever your haven.
We sip Riesling as the stars appear.
Nestled in your arms, time takes flight.
I feel so safe when you are near.
Your strength amply hides a tender heart.
The depth of your voice all admire.
When we first met I became enamored,
Feelings that quickly turned to desire.
We have shared so much over the years.
More happiness than dark sorrows.
Family treasures that brightly shine,
Reigning with love into our tomorrows.
In the autumn of our lives I feel the chill
Of winter's inevitable harsh advance,
Yet days of youth remain in our hearts,
Memories held, that time shall enhance.
Poem of the Day October 27, 2017
Late October Standard Contest-Third Place
Sponsor Brian Strand
oh precious, dulcet diva, ocean-tide
you, of sand and foam and spindrift -
all your moods and meanderings
speak deep my spirit, wistful and wan
musings captured, gist enraptured …
I listen, close ...
on those warm and windy days, your
voice cuts clear, carries with it the joy
of sun sprites alighting on wave tops
hopping crest-to-crest like so many
gold pieces tumbling from pockets, laden …
I listen, rapt ...
becalmed days, the lull of low tide ...
gentle swells reach their arms ashore -
the cold brine washing sand and shell
like breezes sweeping the grasslands
rolling, as imagination rolls in the mind …
I listen, soft ...
whispering in my ear of the secret
dark places in my heart, exquisite
shadowy realms where passion and
reverie hide, pulsing with urge, aphotic
warm, enigmatic feelings flow and ebb …
I listen, true ...
an ocean storm's raging beauty, thus -
somber clouds, splashed Payne's Gray
swirl cruelly as Neptune flits his tresses
sea sirens lament with angry screams as
their backs are broken on reef and rock …
I listen, soft ...
gentle swells lapping brief, the sand
moon rising to the lullaby of a bell buoy
its tender peals coaxing the moonlight to
shore, Luna's beams tiptoeing gently atop
to join the phosphorescent waterline
(not to wake the slumbering breezes) …
I listen, sad ...
the gulls and terns laugh at the folly -
a man strains his ageing ears to the song
of the tides that he loves so completely -
the most divine and elegant aria known
and a voice so immortal and pure, that
it will croon on, long after there is naught ...
left to listen.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (9), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 7" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "New Poems Only" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Voices" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
Critics
Wrote a poem in the sand,
Wonder how it fares if left alone,
Will it bear on its own merits
Or juxtapose by meddling hands,
Meantime, sun-dries it again,
Wind shifts it broad and thin,
Indelible puddles left by rain,
Sand critters pop out and in,
A boy and his ball rolls along,
With a long sigh, looks on down,
Builds a sandcastle then leaves,
Ebbtide gone, flood tide flows cleanly,
I returned, stood and discern,
Comme ci, comme ca, c'est la vie.
14th line English translated from French, "Like this, like that, that is life."
05/09/2019
*POTD*
~~Team PoetrySoup
*6th Place*
old poems, FREE VERSE (003)
~~Poet Destroyer A
I
when the world had no headsets
the sunbathing crowd
fell asleep to the sounds of
transistors played loud
while the deckchairs and windbreaks
kites, beach balls and more
formed the stripes, lines and circles
that painted the shore
and the longer I walked
on the sand to that sea
the more the sea seemed
to get further from me
and the crunch in my mouth
was that one grain of sand
in the sandwich I ate
with my sand covered hand
while the lemons and melons
and plums I'd watch spin
would stop short of a cherry
one click from a win
and the postcards we sent
from the end of the pier
had us writing such half truths
as "wish you were here."
II
from the end of the pier
through the stiff breeze
and spindrift
I can still hear the tunes
of the promenade bands
and I can still see the stripes
of the deckchairs and windbreaks
and the box kites
and beach balls
that painted the shore
and I can still taste
the butter
- warm like the canned ham
and the crunch of that sand
in the sandwich I had
and I can still hear the djs
laughing and talking
spinning hits of the sixties
from transistors
played loud
and I can still smell the onions
frying wild in the fairground
to the sound of the claxons
and the lemon. click. orange. click. melon.
click. click.
and I can still breathe the deep smoke
swirling in sand dunes
from the benson and hedges
and
player's no.6
and I can still see those grown ups
staring at mirrors
- their bodies distorted
like the dreams
they once had
today on the pier
the rain that's now falling
falls from a same sky
on a same sand
and same sea
and a same me
- yet this air
this air
is not the same air
as that air I
once
breathed.
Across the white sand waters
meld of teal and turquoise hue,
in sunlight, emerald facets,
in shadow, grays of blue,
first breaking light of heaven,
tinted sky in tones of shell,
dancing lights, pearl pink and saffron,
fleck the bosom of the swell.
On waves of crisper coral
the majestic sun ship sails,
bright bride aflame in glory
blushed beneath her misty veils.
Such beauty blinds my vision;
my gaze is downward drawn
to vanilla foam soft swirling
in the footprints of the dawn.
Copyright, April 16, 2014
If I had a pretentious brain
which acts faster than my heart
Maybe then,I would abhore this soul
which spreads freely through each verse
Maybe then I would impress you
with my intellectual grammar
and sophisticated words
I would scrutunize
each and every coma
dot and exclamationmark
believing I know best
But I would never let that happen
I'd rather stay at bay
Writing firstly with my mind
and not my heart
leads only to an asylium
within the being of myself
Poetry is my voice,my shadow
The sacred shrine of great escape
Each stored emotion processed
within a yesterday
Poetry is the inner of my existence
breathing softly,bleeding deeply
exploding in death,love
passion and romance
In every verse a whisper
a thought that I would scribe of
a silent cry expressed
Maybe in a tomorrow
you might pass by me
Tread your footstep on my ink
and spit saliva in my face
But maybe in a today
a broken -hearted fool stops by
to find comfort in my world
Maybe a prisoner,a tramp
an insane soul or outcast
would pick these scattered scribbles
and gather them as whole
Maybe through each criss-crossed puzzle
finds a narrow passage
which leads his faith to home
Maybe a little child
whose blissful giggles
depends on little words
would turn the dusty pages
of silly rhymes I penned
Rhymes which know the moons
stars,faries,and the magic land
Rhymes which know each fantasy
and how to be a friend
And maybe He would smile
Maybe He would laugh
Maybe He would dream
Maybe He would grow up to write
the most eloquent sonnet
there has ever been
Or maybe He would grow up
to write simple words
just like me
about daises or dandelions
and expressions to be free
On the beach I found a seashell
luster of colors mixed with gold illuminate
Washed by the sea millions of times
tides turn as gentle footprints remain
I sit and ponder, how could it happen
salt breeze within an ocean's breath inhales
A journey of unimaginable time
drifting murmurs echo against waves crashing
In the sunlight it shone with many shades
satin pearl treasure heart between two shells
Carefully I opened and found its soul
it was then as one on whitewashed wings we flew free
I found a beautiful princess of the sea
Upon a sigh or dream revealed its inner secret
A Collaborated Poem
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid
15.05.2016
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
"By the sea, all worries wash away"
(Saw this quote on a sign in my doctor office and I loved it.)
Since by the sea, all worries wash away,
I think I’ll go down to the beach today,
where palm trees in warm summer breezes sway,
before the sun peeks out above the bay.
Fair weather is expected. Clouds of grey
are not expected. I think that I may
jump waves as if I were a child at play!
Yes, by the sea I’ll go without delay.
From morn till twilight's crimson glow I'll stay.
For Angela Tune's
Weather Poetry Contest
Hot sun
What fun
Soft sand
How grand
Blue sea
For me
High tide
Surf side
Beach babe
In shade
Undress
Top less
No finds
Tan lines
Swim suit…
pursuit
He sports
Tight shorts
Romance?
No chance
Jan Allison
Casarah Nance
1st December 2014
Cascading waves wash ashore,
tickling toes, they ebb and flow;
as moonbeams
set a thousand jewels sparkling
upon the shoal.
Smiles summon sweet emotions
as we stroll upon the beach,
hand in hand
under a starry sky;
pausing to build castles in the sand.
And in this state of blissfulness,
two lonely souls unite
for all eternity.
Our hopes and tears
willingly shared;
trust defines the essence of caring.
And yet, love offers us much more;
facilitating fantasies,
while fulfilling dreams.
Agony and ecstasy meld
with each passionate kiss.
And my heart's consumed by fire;
having never felt a love
as intense as this.
Had Hoped to Find
While searching, seemed so hard to tell,
Which would be our most favorite shell;
Had to constantly, consistently compare,
As they laid on seashore here and there.
Shells were round, oblong and also odd;
Have been prepared by our beloved God,
With bright colors and delicate designs;
Often are spiral or could be curvy lines.
Through shells would separate and strain;
Ocean waves played such a sweet refrain,
Asking why we became such a big creep;
All of God's precious shells trying to keep.
Each day morning does beautifully break;
We will always respect God and His sake;
Shells which we love must be left behind,
For searchers who them had hoped to find.
Jim Horn
Why should one wish the days to pass
Of lush and verdant meadow grass
And butterflies with stained glass wings
Which autumn's burnished hues outclass?
A summer breeze revives the mind
As worldly cares are left behind
And gentle waves of lapping seas
Coax weary bodies to unwind.
Await the golden harvest grain
But may lips linger once again
On luscious strawberries' sweet delight;
Resplendent fruit of summer's reign.
Life's hourglass is finely planned
Why hasten on the grains of sand?
Let scented roses fill the air
And summer's splendour take its stand.
03/10/18
The dog days endure contest : Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
N/A Second Chances N-A Poems From My Contests Only Part I Chantelle Anne Cooke September 2020