Inspired by, but not entered in contest, Create a Quatro,
sponsored by Nette Onclaud (2025)
Stalwart sandcastles
guard against attack from the sea
though the ebbing tide
cares not as it travels.
sandcastles standing
so fragile and ephemeral;
memories refreshed
of childhood play so enchanting
Sun yawns on grains chained
to sandcastles as cool sea waves
rise, taking away
what the caramel dream had reigned.
10/13/2025
Sand castles fragile
Sea breeze hitting continuous.
Hostile environ
always confronting my life style.
The spade bites down, a silver fang—
its hunger for the perfect tower, the moat that swallows everything.
I build my kingdoms grain by grain,
while tide rehearses its collapse again.
Sandcastles remind
me of all my childhoods beach days
with buckets and spades
building the biggest and best kind.
Strong heart grains as gild
shone hope on her dream draped palace.
In time cracks reshaped grains
into hapless dream gratis gravestones.
children and elders
take joy in building sandcastles,
let them not crumble
as true architects and welders.
2nd Place
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
we built them in closets with worn out bed sheets
and couch cushions heavy as boulders.
the flashlight’s beam cut through the dark,
a knight's sword, our citadel against bedtime.
the carpet was moat-water,
broomsticks and mops our armored steeds.
We drew maps on pizza box lids—
Here Be Dragons in red crayon,
Mom's vacuum sketched as a sea monster
with fangs of dust.
there were no stone towers, just laundry-basket turrets
and battlements of stacked books where
discarded milk crates became our thrones.
we knew the magic: how a blanket draped just so
could turn December drafts into mountain winds~
they stood until Monday, these cardboard kingdoms—
until recycling bins swallowed the ramparts whole,
leaving only carpet dents where dragons breathed.
And us—we still smelt of marker ink and dust already
scanning the garage for next Saturday's unconquered country.
We built it one day,
Our castle in the golden sand.
Said we’d live in it
But the sea washed it all away.
SPONSOR - NETTE ONCLAUD
11TH OCTOBER 2925
Children have such fun
building sandcastles in the sand;
sad when downed by waves.
Grit for the future's unknown hand.
Once built in years past;
childhood, beaches long forgotten
drowned by evening tides
like our summers, which never last.
Once, we gazed through spray,
proudly, over our sandcastles.
Again, our eyes meet.
Do you still feel the same today?
Tiny hands mold sand.
Older hands build solid empires.
Both face the same tide—
Sipping joy in wish to withstand.
'twas a work of art,
but the prince watched it disappear
into waves of blue~
the end of dreams it broke his heart.
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