Foreshore Poems | Examples

A Winter's Day in Williamstown

A cold wind has the breath
of Antarctica coming up
from the south. Snow is falling
in the Alps. Small boats 
huddle in the sheltered corners
of the Bay as I make my way
towards the foreshore
and the spray swept pier.
In the far distance, gulls wheel
inside a shaft of sunlight
gathering gold on joyous wings. 
Suddenly, something leaps up
from out of its wintry solitude
to join them.

Natures Simple Pleasure

I stand on the foreshore

Warm sun touches my face

Cool water laps at my bare feet

In that moment pure pleasure l embrace

From Here

From here
I can see the morning ferry
pull out from the wharf
trailing its long tail 
of noisy seagulls, a churning
wake catching the sunlight
before healing to a calm.
I too would like to be healed,
to feel that quietening 
when resistance is laid down
and repair comes with a still.

It would be good to be
at ease with what is,
to be transparent and not impede
the course of light, to trust
and be at one with a drift
towards the unknown. 
Not to push against
the turbid swell of an incoming 
tide but to remain motionless
within it and ride its lift.

From here
I can see the trees along
the foreshore quiver in the slight
breath of a breeze.
Things happen.
From here I sense
an incomprehensible still
across which the morning moves
in a vast pantomime.
To be still is to let go
of all that is passing.



Note.
This poem is a counterpoint to
the previous poem “Yesterday”
which treats stillness in largely
negative terms. Here the idea
of stillness is seen as a means
to transcendence and a central
attribute of Being.

Into the Ultramarine

"Into the Ultramarine"


barefoot along the path down to the beach
the memories follow me like seagulls
either side the honour guard of scarlet coastal banksia
and the sharp green scent of Bribie Island pine 

wave over me 

The wide expanse of a life 
like the wild side foreshore
now vastly eroded, 
the space between, much shorter 

the tides in time 
have taken 
the sands further out
dissolving the childish past

past the dissolving 
further out 
the Ocean deep 
calls me further in

shedding skin 
like a Selkie 
diving head first
bare feet the body slippery
 
into the Ultramarine

the Ultramarine 
like a possessive lover
takes me



Candide Diderot. ‘24

The Performance

The morning waited
for me to take my seat
on the foreshore bench to begin 
its play, perform the piece 
it had scripted just for me. 
Opening
with a prelude of waves lifting
until gravity collapsed 
their curling height and gulped
down their weight, and,
at stage right, rocks bursting 
big watery bags of ocean 
into exploding walls of foam.

Then there were magpies 
holding chorus
in the nearby trees,
accompanying the moment
with an almost Elizabethan lilt
whilst seagulls hurled their
screeching taunts down
from the galleries above.
Little dogs went chasing balls
and children spun, unwinding
on wound up swings, bike riders
in black lycra passed in a blurr
and on a patch of lawn 
beside the pavilion, three women
practicing tai chi.

And so the spectacle ran on
as if the morning was inventing 
new sights and sounds 
for the sake of drawing out time 
to keep me captive in audience there,
the same as I used to do when, 
as a child, I held concert 
for my grandmother 
on cold winter afternoons,
stagelit by a blazing fire
and love.

Leaf

Leaf

It wasn’t the time to leave,
but stem chewed and gale combined and the leaf fell.
Hairstreak, full green not yet ready,
not curled by summer’s end, crisped by West Coast salt, mottled by frost or holed by Sawfly.
Shadow dancing the lake.
Tumbling, a fairground shuggy, a mother’s touch rest onto the blackness. 
The magnetic water pull.
The long float.
Damselfly platform.
Captured on lava foreshore whipped by the fell breath channelled down ice ravaged ghyll.
Purpose complete.
Its forgetful host fed, post prandial.
Unburdened.
Awaiting the awakening.

All That I Have Taken In

At day's end, I take in the last light
seeping into the dark waters
across the bay and keep it here.
I gather the sound of departing gulls
smudged on the sky, the quietening
settle of birds in the cypress trees 
along the foreshore, the giggle 
of a child high on a swing
being pushed by a mothers hand. 

I hold here the gentle sweep
of waves soaking into wet sand,
the slow roll of seaweed, bubbles
bursting around shells, wings
low over the water.
I draw in the evening and keep
it close with its lights 
sprinkled around the edges 
of the headland, 
emerging stars hung soundless
in the heavens, the blinking 
passage of a southbound airplane 
heading into a long night.
From somewhere, the smell
of honeysuckle spilling 
into the waiting air.

I make my way home, filled
with all that I have taken in,
almost happy having little space
left over to fit myself.

Foreshore Melody By Er Haider Khan

A butterfly's flight,
Lost in the foreshore of the night;
With tears in her eyes,
She hung from the trees and cried.

Her gaze met mine,
And in that moment, we intertwined;
With the moonlight as our guide,
She sang and spread her wings wide.

She fell from the trees,
Onto the water, as gentle as a breeze;
It seemed she had lived for eons,
As her wings glimmered like precious stones.

I touched them with grace,
And in that touch, I found my place;
For in the foreshore of the night,
Her peace and melody took flight.

As the night draws to a close,
And the shelter of dreams fades and goes;
The touch of her wings,
And the tranquility in her sings.

Forever in my soul,
Without fail, her beauty unfolds.

Sunset Scene

Setting sun carved a path over the Humber
From Hessle right across the river bend
To join the banks at Ferriby Foreshore
Where that path came to its end.
The great smelter chimney
Rising there darkly up high
Sent its stream of carcinogenic smoke
Crawling across the reddening sky.

The resident old transvestite man, 
Beach combing the bank for wood 
Let the small boat he pulled drift so it
Crossed the path from where I stood.
To my rear the Bridge dominated
Striding the river from side to side
Then the longest in the world
With its span totalling a mile wide.

That strange mixture of past and present
Not there to be seen anymore
For the smelter was pulled down
And taken to pollute a foreign shore;
And the old man in his strange garb?
Not even sure if he’s still here.
I’ve not walked that old path 
For far too many years.

But the bridge, now second biggest,
Still spans the waterway
Carrying the road’s traffic
Day after day after day.
A hush in the gathering darkness.
Fading to silence bird song.
And as the sun lowered to earth
My scarlet path was gone.

To the Mannered

Worn out platitudes
have we come this far ?,
returning all possessed souls
and in the midst  he slayed summer
in a  spectral wooden cupboard
with worn shoes,
and now the lesson is over
by touching all those far apart,
roaming by the foreshore
to see their stranger within
the catch net of life assured

Ladder Bay

I come to this little cove often -
 no work, I have time to burn.
See Asians plunder its foreshore,
 I still fish - show no concern.

Red-bill seagulls fly in circles,
 fight over scraps they have won.
Never giving a thought to Icarus
 who flew too close to the sun.

Soon a woman wanders over
 and asks me what I’ve caught.
I tell her nothing yet but “you’d
 be a great catch” I thought.

I know the swallows smirk at me,
 my appearance they detest.
I cast my line and ignore them
(or at least I do my best).

Things start spinning in my head
 like what it’s like to drown.
Did King Neptune sit on a throne
 and did he wear a crown?

I come alone to this place often
 to remember and reflect.
A place of beauty and meaning,
 a place where I can forget.

            
          Written: 1992

                ———

Ladder Bay is a sheltered cove in
the northern beaches of Auckland 
New Zealand not too far from my
home in the East Coast Bays.

Opal Apex

Sun strike horizon white triangle 
Erases deep turquoise in thin ice
Steady spiral turn winds triumph
Explores sea bed, drilled precise

Turned ground pleads for mercy
Surrenders dug out cry of agony 
Tumble gems an ancient mason
Sought to swap for sovereignty 

Miner compiles silica currency
Shells she's clenched fluoresce
Money funnelled subterranean 
Spectrum rips open firey chests

Technique imagines same future
Strength set on bone, sure farrier
Temporary gold gallops to zenith
Sharp ocean glint disappears her



14th June 
Foreshore soon!

The Crippled

THE CRIPPLED

Walking toward foreshore
I saw the devil seated on a fence
Fishing
Next day I heard he got a thrashing
It was intense
Blood trickled from his core
He would fish no more
Baby and Mommy shark were out to score.

*

Chapter

Chapter

The alcove beside the fire place 
Oft-times spoke about their restive days 
Those from the falls of sobs through the beams of smiles
As we live the de nos jours,
The quarantine debouched into the masses;
Crafts and joints inscribed in italics 'closed'.

Will their love fall apart?
Or
Will it sail highs and lows to en route the foreshore?

Beneath the skin and blood 
Tongue cherish mangoes 
Thirst quest lemonade
And her frock laces whirled in eddies of wind
(He loved this chapter, it was his favourite by a long shot.)

Independence Days

Silvers strands line her hair like salt in an aquamarine ocean

Wrinkles shine in ripples on the quiet foreshore of hindsight

	She dyed her hair blue today because she can

The engine still roars when she puts her walking stick aside

Mounts the quad bike and sails through the isles in the shop

	A keeper of memories she sounds out her youth

Joints crackle the tune while she dances in rhythm and rhyme

Sings aloud from a mind set alight to a chorus of an angel

	She never consulted for divine intervention

Close to the checkout the tattoo on her belly wriggles and chimes

A lip ring as long as a tear drop from heaven tickles her fancy

	Firmly lodged in faith compassion and love

At the exit a watchman guards safe passage and kindness

And wonders what pills she is on to proceed with such joy

	An unredeemable survivor of a rebellious soul

They call her a basket case but her crazy insanity keeps her together

Purple mascara and face paint are waiting for a final farewell

	Just for today she will colour the shadows of her rainbow


04th June 2019 

A Contest of Ageing

Sponsor Emile Pinet

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