Driftwood Poems - Poems about Driftwood

There between the sandy dunes And the ageless azure shore Stood a little driftwood hut That I’d never seen before The beach grass waved and whispered And the ocean waved and roared As I found myself enticed To step inside the door Who had built this humble house This sturdy little shell To listen to the sea’s song in Or let some hermit dwell? Or maybe it...

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A lone prisoner of my own making, a cocoon confined within introvert isolation, I see all the familiar faces recede nowhere, leaving me stuck in the maze of acuity. In the weed-webbed wasteland within piles up the wreckage of life unlived. My mystique mind turns into Nemesis, makes a wilderness of mirrors for me, reflecting the pernicious perception of anguish, an emotion engulfed...

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the tide pulls, the wind howls but i do not cling to the storm i am driftwood, floating free unburdened by the weight of the waves hands reach, voices call urging me to sink, to fight but i let the current carry me where it wills, where i must go the sky shifts, the water calms storms rage but do not touch my soul for...

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Written: September 1st, 2024 For Constance la France Contest Quote (The ocean's voice is seductive, whispering, clamoring, and grumbling, enticing the soul to wander in solitude and lose itself in introspection.) By Poet ...

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sculptured hobo of the sea a pirate’s swashbuckling adventure siren, kraken, leviathan or some other ocean creature but now enjoying retirement as peaceful a garden feature ...

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fewer … stars there are in the heart of heaven than the myriad ripples of brine that gently placed me here - tender tongues of tide that tossed me and polished my bark away shaped me smooth from jagged - turned from beast, to beauty … courses ago - I was loosed from a tree and lost to the sevens in a gale - sundered from all...

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The great artist Picked up piece And began to show Explaining to the crowd About ...driftwood This is where She saw TRUTH ...clearly Look at the frayed end Happened during ...revolt See this It's where TRUTH Connected She aligned Then rejected ...responsibility Drained of all life Nowhere left For LOVE to inject THE WAY ...so she drifts Tossed by every wind of doctrine She is without hope And her name is DESPAIR Written by Trudy Schrader on 08-09-2023...

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The stream surges in turbulent torrent the dry tree felled by the summer storm, the truncated trunk anchors at the tilted levee, in the web of boulders it sticks, stranded. The flood slackens the grip of the slope, the log begins a new journey to the remote end the stream ordains, the abandoned attachment it forgets, dislocated. My life...

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Barefoot I could walk this beach Forever and yet never reach That fabled land where sand meets sky I never will, though I might try Barefoot among empty shells With hermit crabs’ permit to dwell And none or all to call my home I take comfort in the ephemeral foam Barefoot by this misty bay Where spindrifts spill their silver spray And strands of kelp...

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The shores in my world are cluttered with driftwood scattered in piles along the dunes and their twisted sea-shaped and sand-worn elegance always calls to me in their stranded moments of grace....

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We couldn’t help but notice her…on the sand…washed up by the sea…stretched out in the sun…what remained of a driftwood tree. I wondered how she found her way here…naked on the shore of our state park…Did the incessant waves on her journey strip away her bark? I had so many questions for this lonely driftwood tree…How long...

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There was once a young man who stood. He said, "See the great parenthood!" It was quite great, But not coordinate, He couldn't say no to the driftwood....

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The blue hills rolled down embracing the verdant slopes in rhythmic dance, to the cradle of the humming hamlet where my childhood home was once. With formless flotilla of cloud clumps, floating free in seamless cerulean sky, my teenage exuberance soared high with the colorful kites I loved to fly. The cascading brook of aqua...

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Washed on riverbank, pallid wrinkled waterlogged. Mud cloaks where you sank....

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Anchored, uprooted wonderer desolate dreamer, love the serene canopy of empathy, soft touch of heart, and tender care, so I can grow roots, flourish new foliage, adorn tree of life, create cool shade of compassion, spread benign boughs for nests, find love in rippling breeze. I fear the storm of strife, wrecking nests of longing, and the birds flying away. I’d harbor my sinking...

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