Lapping Poems - Poems about Lapping

I Walked The Wet Sands, Just Beyond Lapping Waves I walked the wet sands, just beyond lapping waves with every footstep, sincere prayer said that saves morning sun was then rising, heart was beating strong cool wind was blowing, hopeful and true dreams along melancholy were the sounds as waves wet soft sands, Heaven was beaming, its glory across the lands. I...

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Languid waves lapping the shore, syrupy Lulling winds in hiatus, abeyant Water clinging, sad to let go, sticky Silence piercing, unnerving the gulls to mute, tranquillity The wetness lingers on, soaking in, clammy Water colors seemingly apt for painting such a scene, self portrait Prevailing wind, the conductor, hushes the onshore ensemble, quietude. Calmness is a welcome interlude from rage and...

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With Lapping Ocean Water At My Feet With lapping ocean water at my feet as I stroll along the sandy beach edge, I await the princess I vowed to meet there to fulfill my lifelong solemn pledge. Journeying there, to far flung foreign shore apprehension in eager heart and soul In my sad life, I could not ask for more than find her...

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With Hot Flames Lapping In Savory Fires Our worlds were flying so close, side by side yours in beauty , mine in very deep pain. Fate, that life painter, caused our great collide we victims, blessed in our loving gain. Stars fell apart , crashing of burning sun, super nova lit our swelling desires. Our long sweet ride that moment had begun, hot...

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This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside. -David Foster Wallace Walking through a delirium, I was tired. The sand felt like purgatory, A rising incline into a forever That my mind numbed against. I was awash of intentions, thought, even interest. I had, in short, nothing left. Then the pillars came into view. As if begging for a story, a reason for...

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As the wave as I lap as we lapse into sleep soft laps that lap with a lapping along the form of this beach forming the breath of each breath of this lap of the lapping along this warm sandy cove where I lap with the lapping where I had loved as the lapping as the lapping as the lapping as the lapping as the lapping as the lapping as we...

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Cats At Their Bowls Lapping This time there’s a postscript: “If ever I cook dinner for you, it will be Coquilles St. Jacques and Jefferson Davis Pie.” Imagine Angela, after all these years, rising and gliding to check on my pie, wouldn’t that be something? Angela, come to Chicago, and bring all of your cats. I’ll watch those cats in your lap napping, you in my lap napping, the...

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Light up when you clap Laughing at the clown brigade Sitting on Mom’s Lap By Robb A. Kopp...

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