Long Seashell Poems
Long Seashell Poems. Below are the most popular long Seashell by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seashell poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a house on the cliff’s edge,
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
At night, the tide lifts high against a foggy moon
In the morning, gloomy clouds settle with the sea
At times, not even the birds are seen or heard
The house is left to nature’s caress
Home-crafted seashell chimes sway and sing with the wind
Crushed sand dollars lie together on the back porch
The shells were once whole, collected by the former owners
Long gone are they now, smiling with the moon
The owners are the very sound of the ocean spray,
Striking the rocks, announcing the cool dawn of day
They are not the dark, empty rooms,
The rooms that nobody thinks of as they go about their lives
The quiet owners are long gone—thought of only by one
A stillborn legacy about as tiresome as the sun,
When the clouds crisp out its beams . . .
A seawater puddle is in the middle of the dining room
Nobody knows it sits there, sinking in the floorboards
It used to be a far larger puddle after a storm,
Stealthily leaking into the house
But now it is small—so small—and the boards are moist,
Moist with its only companion amongst the instilled silence
Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
They were not much for socials and gatherings
They always lived their quiet, happy lives
Without a care of the outside world,
Far from anybody’s thought
Miles from the nearest home
Where the next generation comfortably lives
He never finished fixing that leak . . .
Sometimes the puddle gets bigger after other storms
And when it does, there is almost life there again
You can see the chandelier reflected on the unperturbed water
As a crystal dangles and falls from on high
The dark silence following the drop is as deep as thought . . .
Nobody thinks of empty, abandoned rooms
Nobody remembers the former owners
There is merely a house on the cliff’s edge
Around a quiet, unmarked shoreline
-March 21, 2013-
She walked up and down the shore looking for shells
As the shells of her past continued to slowly fall behind chasing the shadow of her past
But there are still a few more battles that she will face, on which day she will remember the day she found this wonderful seashell that she had never seen before, a symbol of hope
It is never as bad as it seems so when you feel yourself drowning instead imagine that day on the beach and how easy it was to breathe
And keep breathing knowing that you are more than capable to get through the next challenge
Today let me hold you like tomorrow is not coming because I know somedays,
I don’t do this even though you deserve it
Forgive my selfish desires and thank you for picking me up when I can’t pick up myself
I’m only a shell of myself trying to learn how to be the best
She is only a shell of herself but next to the beach the painting is complete
I see how the sea washes your troubles away
The waves bring hope to another day
The sun is the warmth for when I’m acting cold
The moon is the light when our marriage is in a dark place
The sand, every grain representing our love, in its infinite
In her mind by the beach she sails
Walking by the water looking for seashells
p.s. I’m loving the view…
I took off my shoes
and stood ankle deep
in the shallow reach and run
of the waves. I felt a sudden
cold, the slow sink of my feet
into wet sand, the gentle pull
of the outgoing tide,
then a tickle of seaweed
as it tangled around my shin.
There are moments like this
when you become the sum
of your own sensations.
The world was being taken in
through my feet, sipped joyously
as if each nerve was savoring
whatever came in contact
with my skin. It was electric.
I was motion, the deep throb
of breaking waves finding
a resonance, a seashell
imprinting an image of itself
through my heel, the freedom
of wiggling toes. I felt as if
I was being lifted
by a strange buoyancy until
the cold spread its numbing chill
and I stepped out of the water
back into my shoes,
into my own small footprint.
Passion had finally washed away my serene demeanor. As I gaze toward the vast expanse of beach at Coney Island, my heart stirs at the sight of a couple strolling leisurely along the boardwalk. I can't help but picture us together on the sun-soaked shores of Barbados, our bare feet sinking into the warm, golden sand. The only space between us is filled with a gentle, cool breeze that dances around us like a whispered secret.
There's a vitality you can rekindle at any age, and I find myself wondering if you would lean down and place a soft kiss on my forehead before your lips find mine, lingering and tender. I imagine you whispering my name, a sweet invitation before your hand brushes against my chest. Though these moments may seem inconsequential to you, to me, they are profound signals that we are ready to embrace each other fully.
I envision you discovering a beautiful seashell, its smooth surface glistening in the sunlight. You would place it next to my cheek, grinning as you playfully remark, "She sells seashells at the seashore." In response, I would tease back with a mischievous smile, “To avoid having sex with her Johns!”
Yes, I’m sure of it! Passion has finally obliterated my calm, but being there with you in that dreamy paradise would be my cherished lucky charm, an enchantment I would hold close to my heart..
my dearest
i set sail
to you
floating a dream
calling out destination
blowing gently
on a seashell horn
sweetest love
honey sweet mead
nectar of the gods
upon your face
shines golden
beautiful
a soft shining soul
gentle in happiness
two becoming one
holding one's eyes
in a blink
mirrors
the soul
lighting up
the darkest night
in warmth within
like parting waves
hair falls down
over your face
the sun beams
a smile
in token
for you a gift
clouds turn pink
blushing red
scarlet emotions blue
leaving one feeling
in a dream
a picture
beautiful gallery
hangs in the mind
one picture perfect
drawn out
from deep within
it's you
Dear anxiety
Nemesis to my reality,
mental manipulator of tentative trust,
massacring my once sagacious soul -
you cut me into a slice of loneliness.
The fault is in our thoughts,
so I am haunted by the things you never said.
You remain silent to society's subjective eyes,
but a glimpse of a poet's soul shivers,
to these vivid verses held by ghosts -
echoing a repetitive chorus in a cathedral of screams.
I'm an uninvited guest in an audience with you,
so I drink poison in every line I write about you.
These words burn my vocal chords,
but I swallow them anyway,
as my paper heart pumps onyx drops
crying through my veins to heartache's recital
of an infected celestial mind yearning for a remedy.
But life is a cupid cruelty in dulcet disguise,
when your heart is a sinister seashell,
oblivious to potions of omen brewed in pigments of pixie-dust.
You're an unwelcome melody to my mystic,
composing an internal deadly demeanour.
I am the ink stuck in your cage,
dissolving like acid in your controlled carnage,
confined to trembling bleeding intuitions,
lost in corridors of horrific obscure mirrors,
whilst paranoia palpitates in a whirling haze of
magnetic ice warmth, melting my sanity,
amidst crumbling stars that lure cavernous comets
of silver grief to pirouette above frozen seas draped with
a fluorescent creme of skies.
As oceanic tides of topaz rise and fall,
flatlined into pewter streams of emptiness.
The moon coruscates in coral blue lies,
passing through intractable phases of trepidation,
abandoning light in black tourmaline nights -
pivoting into a psychedelic trance.
Rainbows fade before we can embrace
their colorful showers drizzling jade jewels
that rhyme with kaleidoscopic kismet,
as life through rose coloured lenses turns
into a provisional poetic manifestation.
If only I could escape this self-inflicted dungeon,
but you pursue like a perpetual predator.
I'll forever expose your oppression through my poems,
confessing how I never asked for this enforced affair.
I know I'm my own storm, I'm my own calm -
I just hope this is the last time I write about you.
There was never a thing more beautiful
Than a tree with lights adorning
Except, perhaps, for that certain lull
Of the beach on Christmas morning
Once again I’m like a little girl
Beneath that tree exploring
Finding gifts of seashell, jade, and pearl
On the beach on Christmas morning
Though it may not be the humble stable
Our Father’s Son was born in
The current rocks me like a cradle
At the beach on Christmas morning
Deck the halls with kelp and holly
And carol with the ocean’s roaring
For you’ll find a special kind of jolly
At the beach on Christmas morning
Like driftwood dancing in the surf
My heart with joy’s outpouring
As goodwill, love, and peace on earth
Flood the beach on Christmas morning
Now by the seashore once again
A bright new day is forming
Not just another where and when
But the beach on Christmas morning
Come early when those first rays touch
Your cold cheeks with their warming
For nothing soothes the soul so much
As the beach on Christmas morning
Rush forth as Yuletide’s salty spray
Upon the sand comes storming
Come quick, before it ebbs away
From the beach on Christmas morning.
I met her in a whisper,
her eyes a chocolate mist
I swear she was an angel,
such beauty heaven kissed
She told me that she loved me
My heart, it skipped a beat
With lavender a' blooming,
this one that I should meet
Then painted me a sunset
of marmalade and gold
With watercolor feelings,
emotions did unfold
As waves were gently rolling,
this shore of saphron sands
We counted every seashell
now held within our hands
And as the moon was rising,
a blushing evening beam
I knew our world was perfect
as if inside a dream
And now as morning beckons,
with blue skies up above
I'm glad I heard that whisper
for I have found true love
***Recalling the past. It has been almost a year since she left and I still think of her everyday"
Sound of sea is locked within seashell beached
Just lift a shell to your ear to hear sea sigh.
Morn is locked within dawns red sky horizon
Like flower bud bursts into daybreak.
Sap and sinew of living tree trunk
Is locking within its wood when cut and dried.
Knitters love and enterprise is purled into garments
Finger strokes coiled and entwined, locked within.
Photos frozen, snap shots, shuttered images frozen
Have memories locked within, auras that come to life when images viewed.
Locked within a diamond is flash of light and sparkles bright
Like a star it twinkles its light and shimmers at night.
Locked within a pebble on bed of stream are the clunks and thuds
That have ground it smooth during its passage downstream.
Locked within love locks padlocked to bridge
Is the hope that love locked up, cannot escape and flee.
For nothing is completely new since the big bang exploded
All things solid and spiritual have their birth and legacy locked within.
The threads of time's passage coiled and entwined
Locked within all matter until the end of time.
Everything has some within in tidbits locked inside
'Tis the within of things in lockets.
Hot water freezes faster than cold
Wearing layers in the heat keeps you cool
Hummingbirds are the most aggressive bird
Sometimes life doesn't make sense
There are seashell fossils on mountain tops
On Venus, a day is longer than a year
Your head ages slightly faster than your feet
Sometimes life doesn't make sense
I know I'm not perfect
And neither are we
But together we could have been
Because
Sometimes life just doesn't make sense
But what is sense
When you stop to think
A spiral like that
Could drive you to drink
You can rationalize
Justify
Make recompense
But sometimes life just doesn't make sense