Long Seashores Poems
Long Seashores Poems. Below are the most popular long Seashores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seashores poems by poem length and keyword.
Shh, surrender silent sorrows.
Subconsciously slip into stillness,
sedately surrounded in serenity's song.
Slumber satisfied, slithering softly between
silky soap scented sanitized sheets.
Soak up summaries of summers spent splashing at
seashores, sandles sifting through salt scented sand,
as sapphire skies shine splendidly.
Scores of silver seagulls soar stunningly
above saltwater seaweed scenery.
Suddenly snorkeling with seahorses,
you somehow become the studied subject.
Swimming in submarine schools, scarcely secluded,
you become someone's significant someone.
Spryly spinning synchronously side by side
someone special, sprinkled in sentimentality,
speaking shrouded sounds,
you shift seamlessly into sound sleep.
"Speak some sense slower," some seahorse shrieks.
Sensibly speak shrouded sounds slower, softer,
so she can sleep sometime soon.
2/9/2020
My unspoken agony
Drowned my sulking cheeks in its essence,
And I,
Could only wet my lips,
And pluck, from my chin,
A streaming flow of tears or two
Which I placed on the night sky
With the help of my finger!
My tears appeared there as black dots
Giving the night sky the impression
Of being polluted!
What a waste, whispered my mind,
Are you not supposed to be a lover
Of nature's purity?
Does it even matter, breathed my soul,
Everything is bound to come and go
As waves do on the seashores;
No one wave can be said to look like the others!
And while everything does go on its way,
Suffering remains present all the way through
Does it even matter if floods of tears
Drown your eyes, or, if you use them
To dirty the night sky?
It does matter, heaved my heart,
It does matter as my sufferings weigh on me
And make me feel like I am myself
Covered with black dots,
Being, so like a flower,
Shredded into millions of pieces,
As, my beauty was deemed as being worthless
By the one to tend me day and night,
So much,
That he chose another to adorn the vase
On his dining table!
But then, as the gloom of my dark spots
Steadily invaded the night sky,
I saw a child, naked, adorned solely with silver wings,
Saunter along the firmament only to touch
My black dots with his finger,
Turning them, while doing so,
Into red ones!
Pray, laughed he in an echoing voice,
Why do you cry?
Have you no faith in the power of the Gods?
Those dots have been meant to be imbibed
With passion even before you took birth!
What shall be,
Remains the sole wish of the skies!
Doubt it not,
Fight it not,
Rather, live it,
Live it as I do,
Live it as who you were once,
A child, carefree and reckless,
Seeking solely to quench the thirst of her passion!
For Contest Polka Dots
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Written on 20th Jan 2019
I could make ring bells from seashells found on seashores
go into retail where these bells get sold on shop floors
and tell thee tales of Seabells see sales win awards
if Seabells received well we could see sells soar
but there be fails and seashells will see me shut doors
Seabells on thee shelves won't sell themselves
Seabells that stay shelved are Seabells in stealth
but if retail sees sells these bells might split shells
when Seabells break seashells they Seabells no more
in retail it entails that Seabells a chore
stealing seashells from seashores for Seabells is wrong
Seabells in retail ensure failed rewards
leave seashells on seashores where seashells belong
sit on a seesaw it sees sore your bum
a sore bum on a seesaw's a seesaw no fun
(none of this stanza is part of the poem I'm just)...
sawing a seesaw for Cecil in sun
sees seesaw I Cecil for saws so seesaws
no I saw for sneezing Cecil a seesaw he saw
Cecil does sizzle when Cecil's in sun
snoozing a little he frizzle a frum
I've syphilis symptoms seep sauces abort
a sauce on a seesaw in slippers and shorts
it sizzles my settle a saw Cecil's seesaw
a seashore with seesaws see seashells flung
a seesaw at seashores not see sure for sum
seashells flung seaward hit sailors at sea (dong)
seems I cannot stop recycling sims-
ulating symptoms of simpleton dumb)
yeah im done phew
Barefoot in the sand I walk the seashore, carefree
taking mental snapshots of you and me;
Living in the sanctuary of your natural agility
I am a womb in you, both beautiful and free.
When you pour me out my soul refreshes,
some say you are water but I say you are life.
Recaptured, I regain my sanity and dignity
and for this, I thank you water;
The seashores are quenched by your ebb and flow
and your eternal movements, are my Saving Grace;
You are self sufficient and unanimously rhythmed
and in your cadence even the mermaids rejoice,
as they dip their tails and siren your decree.
Oh sea, you are just a kiss away from me,
when I'm in your presence nothing in this world
matters, anymore.
Welcome to my anti-country
It’s right here, before your eyes
Let me warn you at the entry
It’s not quite a paradise
Doesn’t matter where you came from
I won’t judge you by ID
You don’t fill some fiddly form
The admission’s visa free
Here’s some music for your pleasure
And some other music too
Maybe you will find a treasure
That I’m keeping here for you
See the pictures on the walls
Mostly English countryside
Rural mansions with big halls
Gardens, seashores at low tide
Sayings of the wise, though not
Utter wise by current standards
There are paintings, quite a lot
Paintings section is expanded
There are very special places
Tables under shady trees
Lots of roses, and some pansies
And forget-me-nots you’ll see
If you’d like to pay a visit
I am happy to inform
You are safe each time you’re in it
Anti-country is my home.
She reads seashells on seashores like tea leaves,
seeing faint signs the ebb tide truly believes.
Each shell has fallen to create a spelling bee
in the clues the sea has scattered in its debris.
She lifts conch shells, gently to her ear,
Some shells hum softly of mariners drawing near,
Some hiss their warnings, dark, stark and austere,
Some reek of the brine, lost sailors once held dear.
Some recall battles fought in wild raging seas,
All are messages, the sea shells from its pleas.
So shell the peas by the seashore
where the sea meets the sand, once more.
Read the script, trace the score.
Hear the sounds, deep within shell's core.
So let the seashore tell its tale,
in fragments the waves unveil.
The tide will wash away each scour and scar,
Then leave us seeing what we truly are.
The messages surge in the ebbs and flows,
echoing what the tide brings in and knows.
So read the shells like tea leaves.
Hear the secrets told by pirates and thieves.
Embrace the meanings not quite there,
like latte art cast on crema's foaming flair.
The sandy shore shifts with every tide.
No single story ever remains the same.
Each wave writes a new fresh line,
so every person sees their own name,
in the peas and ques, shelled in the rhyme.
So read the shells, seesaw your biases adrift.
Take what comes in, then release its grift.
For the sea speaks with a forked shifty tongue,
that we love and hate, yet let remain unsung.
So shell the peas by the seashore
where the sea meets the sand once more.
Read the script, trace the score.
Hear the sounds, deep in the shell's core.
He sprinted through an awesome barrow, skirting a stone.
The music of July night is hidden behind hazel leaves.
I smile and watch young people play from the walker garden.
Indeed, the downpour plunged, beating on my roof tied a tin drum.
Choking out the bunny's smell in the extents of the forest.
July fireflies long for the moon as floods ascend from onset.
The banished euphoric world is an isolation labyrinth.
Watching the waters surface, the days pass suddenly of shadows.
Conscious at dawn, the moon sails with me to the morning seashores.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: September 25, 2021
Checked by: SC.COM
Your Best Sijo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
I furl myself…
in au revoir ruins …
within selfish flames
of a femme fatale,
where black pearl roses
weep with the ghosts of gold ~
grounded in the
glamorous requiem
with the grace of glittering glitz,
but in these gardens of grief,
I mourn with
the flawless footnotes
of grim obsidian mirage ~
groomed with faces
that forget
the patronus prose ,
petrified by
soul-stirred sunsets
with purple pigments …
I learned how to live unkissed, until ~
this emotion steered me
to the eclipse of heat ,
raining love riots …
even if it were
my imagination
and the moon tonight ,
were an honest manipulator -
O destined god of my dreams
let me melt in your lucid love-fire -
be the siren for sizzling seashores ,
and wake up with the wave ~
that whispers, whirling the halo
of white crescent wings …
as I need you …
within smooth strokes ~
that worship your
whistling heartbeat,
…and we dissolve
with devotion,
in the delusive design
of dusk-blush maroons ,
fading into
the evening evanescence
as those sun drops
glimmer with citrine stars ~
and I wear this
galactic wine pendant ...
in the paradise
of this dulcet demigoddess
weeping
~ smokes of d e s i r e ~
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.
This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.
Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.
Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.
When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend...
How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?
With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.
"This Dog" appeared in the poetry collection Arogya by Rabindranath Tagore.
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
Originally published by The Chained Muse
NOTE: This translation is based on an untitled text in Bangla (Bengali) first published in 1912 and known as "60" due to its numerical placement. Rabindranath Tagore made history by becoming the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature the following year. Keywords/Tags: child, children, meet, meeting, converge, convergence, convene, convention, conference, ocean, oceans, sea, seas, seashore, seashores, seaside, beach, beaches, boat, boats, ship, ships, wave, waves, play, playing, storm, storms, tempest, tempests, song, songs, ballad, ballads, dance, dancing