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.
p u l s e s
diastolic
systolic
tides
e l a s t i c
edge of ebb where water and salt and memories mix
steals the space between my inhale and exhale
plovers chasing stretchy waves
tight-fisted oysters hoarding pearls
winds blowing our laughter this way that way
two kites flirtin’ and floatin’ in a sea of clouds
tin foil tongues with spindrift speech
breathes sea songs upon the shore's breast
sea-fingers strum beach skin glistening
sea-drums thrum seashell ears listening
yet I wince as hungry riptides swallow
my pebbles from the shore
nothing long-lost leaves nothing longed for
I yearn for riptides to swallow my sorrow
instead of small joys and unadorned dreams
swallow me in ragged state instead of smooth but
famished riptides can’t swallow my jagged stone whole
cyan dancers grow untamed and white maned
their crimes their confessions
s w a s h across expanse of dry seabed surging
I recall our cupid kites tUmBLinG in growing flow
wet sands a mirror for west-sky-fire reflections
an ancient temple of quartz-grit-sages sift waves
confessors with silence-filled voices
just beyond and amid the t h r o b s of tides
~
Silence, on waves of our tide motioned heartbeats,
cascading rhythms, a smooth metronome
Keeping this time inside blue water passions,
beneath the surface, the feelings we’ve grown
Hidden so deep in the swells of affection,
swimming the shores of a long summer’s night
Building a fortress of seashell laced castles,
sand dollar curtains to fend off the light
Running for cover as sunrise now beckons,
placing our smiles where the seas cannot gaze
Whispering secrets of coast line devotion,
harboring dreams till the end of our days
Lighthouse lit beacons now search as a witness,
beaches a’ shimmer of moon glow above
Hoisting our anchor, we share the horizons,
sailing these oceans, professing our love
~
Mama, did you know the precious amethyst shadow hours
I spent beside you, cuddled cosy-close, nestled in blankets of light,
shawled in your red-gold hair? I kissed each tear you cried;
each one a starlight pearl forged from the depths
of your fragile soul. I rocked seashell-shut to each lullaby note
and silently watched as you rocked my cold, empty cradle.
Sometimes you sensed me coiled at your breast -
a small, balled knot of grief. You felt my tiny fingers plucking at you
as tingling shivers. And sometimes I bounced sunshine-free
on your knee, a giggling orb of light.
Little one, once again I felt you here,
entombed in the womb of this eternal everywhere room,
your spirit sifting through my fingers like hourglass sand.
Pain has blanked my mind wraith-white, but I felt
your lips nip the warm rosebuds of my nipples
as I pressed a lullaby to the delicate shell of your ear
and brief blessed seconds spun out like years.
My sentient heart will always hold you, my grip will never slip
as my earthbound hands, human-warm, reach through time
and heather-shadowed ether to love and care for you.
Give me the U who dances in the rain,
The U with sunshine in your laugh, a heart that can't be chained.
The U with dreams that shimmer, goals that take flight,
The U who stumbles sometimes, but picks yourself up with all your might.
Give me the U who craves quiet moments, lost in a book's embrace,
The U who bursts with ideas, a whirlwind pace.
The U with a fire in your eyes, a voice that compels,
The U who finds beauty in the ordinary, in every seashell.
Give me the U who yearns for faraway lands,
The U who builds sandcastles on familiar sands.
The U with a paintbrush whispering secrets on a canvas,
The U with a melody strumming on forgotten stanzas.
Give me the U who breaks bread with loved ones, laughter in the air,
The U who tackles challenges, a burden you learn to share.
The U who cries cathartic tears, a heart that feels so deep,
The U who finds strength in vulnerability, secrets you choose to keep.
Give me all the U's, the vibrant kaleidoscope,
The messy masterpiece, the ever-evolving code.
This is the symphony of me, a beautiful, complex core,
And I wouldn't trade a single note, forever wanting more.
I wish
to be darling
to sing of love
to woo you
perhaps now I am
This strangely artistic hint of a thing
This will of the wisp of a thing
This wind and bone marrow
left over thing
A piece of seaweed
Dark green and thrown
on the shore of this beautiful place
I am made of seashell and sand
If you magnify me
you see that I am made of a thousand
memorized crystals
the detris of hot heat
explosions
different colors... different shapes
I feel ethereal
but only human and flawed
all of it has left inclusions in my deep
I did want to love
I do want to be love
But I think I've become too much like
a thing from the sea
tossed
sanded
changed
Ground down
like one of those round rocks
on the beaches of Sandwich
perfectly white
or freckled granite...pink, grey, white and taupe
perfectly smooth
and perfectly impenetrable
All the lustrous edges and dramatic planes
Reduced
A rock mermaid am I
my siren song stilled
Once
enticing
dangerous
haunting
Echoing off the reefs
I now send lighthouse warnings
Beware the Rocks!!
But in truth I want nothing more than to be a safe shore
to find refuge in the arms of a sea grass man
and to bask in the warm sand
of my very own forever man on our forever shore
It’s easy to mistake spilled coffee grinds
on a counter top for small dead ants.
It is all too easy to mistake sugar granules
for the white sands of Montego Bay,
to push dunes into a drop of lukewarm water
with the etched whorls of a seashell finger
farming for life among scattered elements.
I have seen the cows that graze on skin,
some are as big as elephants, some flock like sheep.
The relativity of size and shape
troubles them not
they munch through dead epithelial cells
while you, a giant among pigmies
drink your coffee, rinsing your brain with
picayune tsunamis.
At the bottom of the mug where the past is revealed
it’s easy to imagine how all the minuscule beings
that grow too large to live
can end up as spillage on a countertop.
All too easy to conjecture
that where you touched your lips with a fingertip
worlds broke apart, ran like mercury
into a thousand fiefdoms of cloned flora,
exiles determined to survive
the Brobdingnagian avalanches of your fall-out,
a debris that can be instantly wiped away.
It’s easy now to see
that there is an aqueous cosmos in a bead of sweat
that is ignoring you completely
as if some greater hand were constantly
wiping you away also.
Breath-taking fish follow our footprints
into the booming sea.
A multicolored native child lives there
it walks upon the pushed-up swell,
bell-diving while standing
on the deep dark waves.
You may well dream of this
as the sun plays across your closed eyelids.
You may ask yourself
why the songs of the sea are always sad
even when the sailors fiddle and jig,
and why these images
are so tantalizingly inexplicable
like a saltlick on the moon.
It's the whales you see,
their peace roars, their size expands
even the very smallest places.
It is the alien giant squids of grace,
that does not belong anywhere
yet it floats in a balloon
of eternally penetrating silence.
For all dry-docked and new-laid minds
there's a pulsing birthing canal
still open and waiting,
find it inside a closed seashell of time
within the rippling molecules of tsunamis
where the native-born are spawned.
We are watching the surf roll in and out
and it is certainly not strange
to suffer a moment of absolute exile,
a real 'home sweet home' solitude
and a tidal homelessness.
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.
Godmother fashioned the most gorgeous crown for Amaryllis’ head.
Bronze, blush, butterscotch, eggshell, mango with hints of red.
Her friend said, “blush, mauve, opal, peach, sand, and seashell.”
Amaryllis Elf noted then that these colors were represented as well.
She had never noticed the plethora of colors amaryllis could hold.
Although the fruity exotic fragrance of this plant could never get old.
Amaryllis dove into the flowers and giggled with her favorite elf king.
The next day the violets, cone flowers and lilies gave out a big sing.
And Amaryllis ended up wearing a new diamond ring.
Facebook flight, a messenger pigeon
Each Pageant shuffles pretty women
Most admired tiara sparkle temporal
Sash off strategic take trick terminal
No need to tweet esteem over media
Stern sensei recites reprimand, sepia
Cyber courier delaying defeat in fury
Gathers fragile artefacts via the jury
Thrown to past season, bent bouquet
Creases curtain backstage, showcase
Effort effected in gloom glows wattage
Wife writes fairytale wedding marriage
Health heralds husband’s regard sole
Seashell static fuzz phases out vitriol
Ocean sunk scroll in bottle, lost title
Cut circuit campaign silences recital
25th January
Objection Overruled