Pier Poems - Poems about Pier

Visibility is low, wear a bright vest, Cycle with lights on, caution is best. Stay on the bike path across the Tappan Zee The Hudson's below, but you can't see You can't see the water, the fog is like a wall It might be a blanket, it might be a pall You peer through glasses...

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encounter on pier 39  she sat inaudibly alone on pier thirty-nine  watching colorful sail boats go lazily by  i didn’t know her name but she was a friend of mine  and it hurt so badly to see her cry  with my guitar in my left hand and wishes in my right  i approached her quietly, careful not to intrude  the waters were...

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table by the sea, music from the crashing waves~ moonlight on her face. February 9, 2024. ...

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Once it was strong and full of life Now it's a mismash of signs and rails Place of the working man and his wife Abandoned wood and left over tales Now its dead with a forgotten past Deserted on the beach as the birds fly They soar upwards wild and fast Up and up into the sun drenched sky The wood is rotten...

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The hurricane was weeks ago, Yet now I get to see The damage, or what’s left of it, That was described to me. We walked the route we always take When down here for a visit, Past lovely homes with water views, Expansive and exquisite. The local park’s in ruins And some trees and plants have died, But the lovely pier we strolled on Shows...

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Contemplative bliss communes with the serene, into the spirit of the placid marine crystalized in my mind. As the sun’s reflection spreads glitter upon its open sea, throngs milling to the melodious tunes of the guitar. Strumming troubadour, slim and rangy toe headed youth grins modestly as his tip jar fills welcoming spared bills And to the sounds of the seagulls gleeful...

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Summer is the main of seasons Anyone who disagree If you wish, give me your reason If you don’t, its fine by me Summer is the best in August But I like it more in June Longer days make nights look bogus Fading light dies much too soon Ephemeral sun comes down Flashing waves, that lick the pier Tiptoes out the sad white...

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Hanging out at Santa Monica Pier, wining in dixie cups, dancing in the sand. Chants of drink…drink…drink. I took no time to think…think…think. I wake up with a cacophonous surf, unlike the gentle roar of a seashell, and my head pounds, my eyes barf in the light bright of dawn’s scarf. Where am I, I wonder…how did I… Asleep around me, are surfboards. The breakers...

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Laying the ground in Gaza for a humanitarian pier attacked by terrorist explosives today though the world does not find that weird… For it’s ‘normal’ for Hamas, which governs the Gazans to deny them basic...

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they gather in groups casting their lines out at once waiting for big one...

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It seems nothing is ever lost but is transmuted, returns to another state or resurrects into something new. Take thoughts thrown from a pier into the dark water lapping below. They make no sound as they sink, resigned to their fate, becoming whispery filaments of what had been spectral inhabitants of the head. Long threads rise to the surface and float free to catch the moonlight, becoming strands of...

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people hang over mesmerized by blue waters watching seagulls fly...

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I remember the high arc of your line casting into horse-maned waves, strong hands as yet untroubled by trembling, easily reeling smaller fish to throw back in, again and again, a circle of give and take, and how after searching salt-surf, the jolt of fierce life banging the rod down almost to breaking cut a smile across your face, the frenzy to...

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With the surprise arrival of the stormy might Came to pass the long-feared fight First standing proud and quietly brave Then bled white by wind and wave The ocean rose, there was no lee Her trusted timbers stole by the sea And as their initials floated away Pained authors huddled ashore to stay Her planks once were the open hand That invited us to...

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pier-perfection measured stroll to its length flipping into mirth landing on the sailboat’s deck and holding on…for dear life pier-perfection strong sun, beholden wind horizontal spray leisuring at an angle hang-on-baby amusement pier-perfection observers as beached whales by no means diving in the sea chopping off their legs piers wooden pegs bending wills pier-perfection becomes a water slide bums not having fun turbulent...

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