Best Sandpipers Poems
I set up an easel in the shade of my beach umbrella. Wanting to paint by the morning light, I dabbed colors onto the palette...sea foam green, azure, titanium white, and ochre.
With wetted brush in hand,
I looked out, ready to begin.
But there upon the golden sand,
Ran my tomboy daughter, Quin.
An only child, Quin had long ago found ways to amuse herself. Since the age of three she'd insisted on brushing her own hair into a ponytail, Now, at seven, she hadn't yet gotten the hang of it, but fly-a-way hair becomes my little tomboy. I smiled when I realized how much like Quin I was as a child. I watched as she chased gulls and sandpipers, clapping her hands to keep them flying ahead of her running steps. A child of nature, she sees beauty in everything. She stopped and shielded her eyes against the rising sun with her hands. She watched the sandpipers land further up the beach then walked back to me.
"Mommy, do you think the birds
are afraid of me when I give chase?"
She waits to hear comforting words.
I smile, looking at her worried face.
"Quin, my darling, if you think they are afraid, find something else
to do that won't scare them away." She picked up her blue denim bag and skipped along the shore looking for starfish and sand dollars. I painted the scene I wanted to capture, but Quin became the focal point of my canvas. I used the green, blue, white, and ochre to paint what nature provided, but I used a shade called peony for the cheeks of my tomboy daughter.
sandpipers and gulls
Quin still loves making them fly
with paint on canvas
The walls have fallen and the grounds overgrown,
If you’d never been here you might never have known,
The stair that lead nowhere from the cracked ocean deck,
With the waves of the hurricane slowly it’s swept,
The light from her windows once lit up the Atlantic,
From all over they came for that weekend romantic,
To take long evening walks on a moon water beach,
While the laughter spills out and the music would reach,
Stirred in with the breeze creating crisp melodic sound,
In the flash of an instant discover paradise found,
For here moments were shared and each one becomes,
The memories of time in which we’re forever young,
A place to rekindle that once adolescent desire,
Here the poets retreated to compose and inspire,
Now these few crumbling walls are all that remain,
From a night of disaster that devoured in flame,
Now the patrons return their memories cupped in hand,
Hearing ballads of wave from the sea’s ethereal band,
I saw them closing their eyes once again hearing those tunes,
Traveling back to their youth…as they dance in the ruins
I set up my easel in the shade of my beach umbrella. Wanting to paint by the morning light, I dabbed my colors onto the palette...sea foam green, azure blue, titanium white, and ochre.
With wetted brush in hand,
I looked out, ready to begin.
But there upon the golden sand,
Ran my tomboy daughter, Quin.
An only child, Quin had long ago found ways to amuse herself. Since the age of three she'd insisted on brushing her own hair into a ponytail, Now, at seven, she hadn't yet gotten the hang of it, but fly-a-way hair becomes my little tomboy. I smiled when I realized how much like Quin I was as a child. I watched as she chased gulls and sandpipers, clapping her hands to keep them flying ahead of her running steps. A child of nature, she sees beauty in everything. She stopped and shielded her eyes against the rising sun with her hands. She watched the sandpipers land further up the beach then walked back to me.
"Mommy, do you think the birds
are afraid of me when I give chase?"
She waits to hear comforting words.
I smile, looking at her worried face.
"Quin, my darling, if you think they are afraid, find something else to do
that will not scare them away." She picked up her blue denim bag and skipped along the shore looking for starfish and sand dollars. I painted the scene I wanted to capture, but Quin became the focal point of my canvas. I used the green, blue, white, and ochre to paint what nature provided, but I used a shade called peony for the cheeks of my tomboy daughter.
sandpipers and gulls
quin still loves making them fly
with paint on canvas
Lin Lane ~ November 21st, 2015
The Sandpipers Call
Sandpipers Call amongst the garbage
along the shore,
Tumbleweeds dance from dusk till dawn
Tumbleweeds roll as time goes by,
And time should stand still for love?
But:
Only Tumbleweeds roll roll back and fro making love to the wind.
Flying lost, in a blue sky,
never knowing why,
Doves fly when curtains Call
Crying doves. Scatter, as curtains fall,
Peregrine falcon,, hits and death calls,,
And a spray of bloody feathers,,
In a garden of angels,, watch them fall,,
As a cold east wind blows from the west
Marking the spot where Sandpipers Call.
And Tumbleweeds yawn at break of dawn
And race each other down empty streets,
only stopping to keep each other warm,
Lost again where broken hearts meet
Dust storms. Whistle a warning,
Broken windmills answer with creaking rusting calls that last forever.
For time is the enemy of broken hearts,
Leaving you breathless as,
Strangers walk hand in hand among the garbage along the shore,
where, Sandpipers Call.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek,
.....until dawn, in the cemetery on the hill where old cowboys lie,
waiting for Jesus lost in the garbage along the shore.
And Sandpipers mourn for dying doves.
As Tumbleweeds the traveling kind
Remind us that love is blind as they March through broken windows
and open doors, a spray of bloody feathers fall.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek until dawn
Dust devil's whistle a warning, broken windmills answer with
squeaking rusting calls and they'll sing that way for broken hearts.
Lost forever.
At last the Tumbleweeds, call to the dying Sandpipers, dying in
the rotting garbage and seaweeds strewn along the shore..
Home..
FOOTPRINTS AND SANDPIPERS
On a recent walk along the beach…where the ocean meets the land
what captured my attention were all the footprints in the sand.
We watched sandpipers darting to and fro
tiptoeing between the water and the land
pursuing their next meal…leaving tiny footprints in the sand.
We saw people walking, families playing, children making castles with their hands.
while others laughed, or ran, or skipped…leaving footprints in the sand.
It wasn’t just how many there were…spreading out across the land
It was also the diversity…of those footprints in the sand.
I kept wondering…were they young or old…
gay or straight
black or white…
was it a woman or a man
who walked this beach before us and left these footprints in the sand?
As you walk along the beach you feel a harmony
with the sky…the sea…the land…
and that day I felt that same harmony with those footprints in the sand.
And I had to smile as we walked…thinking…wouldn’t it be grand…
if the only way to judge a person…was by their footprints in the sand?
Would there be prejudice and bigotry?
Would people be ridiculed…or banned
If the only way to judge them was from their footprints in the sand?
And I wondered if we should all be more like sandpipers
who, as they scamper, dash and stand,
tread softly
and live in harmony…
while making footprints in the sand.
Who understand the key to life
is to live nobly
and dignified
and grand…
before our time is up
and the tide washes away
our footprints in the sand.