sand glistens, but seashells steal the spotlight
Seashells galore
Collected fragment crafts
Necklaces, rings, and lucky charms
Mollusks, scallops, and clams
On the menu
SEASHELLS AND PEARLS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wander,
barefoot,
the cool sand cradling my soles,
each step a soft conversation
with the earth,
the salty air,
a gentle caress.
I gather the whispers of the sea,
the glimmer of shells,
the soft glow of pearls,
and I carry them within me,
treasures, reminders that beauty lies
not just in the grand,
but in the quiet, delicate moments
shimmering in the stillness.
BEACH
water
sandy shore
picking up seashells
making big sand castles
playing in the blue water
"lasting beach dreams of childhood days"
The ocean is home to a curation of shells,
The type you admire, the kind you call into,
The ones that whisper stories the sea never tells.
The peach and the pink, the pastels and the white —
All of them bring such a sense of delight.
I trace my finger over each and every grove and indent,
Each fracture and dent,
Wondering what they have seen, and what places they went.
I wonder if they are signs — heaven-sent.
This poet wonders — does she know the truth that is grand?
The shell that is pretty mesmerizes those little eyes
While the sea calls out her name for help.
Sand between her toes and wind through her hairs,
She felt every emotion one feels at a shore.
The next scene was haunting — it took away her innocence.
Fishes started to wash up on the shore,
The water began to form bubbles.
As she looked at her mother, who
Whispered with her eyes-
“Sorry, my precious little baby,
Forgive the humankind,
For the future we will leave behind.”
Now I am taking a walk along the shore;
I can see the blue sky and the sun
Painting a golden haze over the water;
I can smell the fresh air;
It is always different when you smell along the shore;
The sand is smooth and I can sense it
Cuddling my feet;
There is a Tip Toe – Sand Affair
As I walk and leave footprints behind me;
I see a seashell;
I bend and pick it up;
It is white with some creamy lines;
I enjoy its smooth surface,
In the tip of my finger;
I am taking it with me today;
In fact I am here just for them;
They are small,
They are elegant,
They come once in a while with the tide
And I enjoy picking them up;
In fact there are times,
I wait for days to pick one of them;
It takes long,
But when I have the seashell in my hand
I enjoy it;
It is like sniffing the perfume,
I enjoy most
Or splashing earth color in the palette;
Some days,
I wait for days,
To pick up a seashell
But when I do, it is worth the time;
Your locs are a crown
I hope you know that
Don’t ever slick them back
Into the suffocating ponytail that you once wore
Your voice, soothing like seashells
Blue like the waves
That we watch together
You lay down your barriers
And I draw near
You listen to my complaints
I fear nothing but the times we can’t see each other
Fill up the silence with your words
Your advice glows sky blue
After lifting my weight off my chest,
You guide me to the light
You guide me to where my thoughts can’t hurt me
volumes are written
on each shell on the seashore ---
children read them well
rough ridgid edges
washed up from watery grave
nestled on the sand
mysterious shells
washed up with ocean tides
a ray of colors
The tide weaves and wends
its' way among the pier posts
where I will dig for tiny
shark's teeth and whelks in the sand;
I love making genuine oceanside jewelry.
digging for tiny
seashells beneath wooden piers
i found a sharks tooth
a perfect centerpiece for-
the necklace I will create
'A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE' Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
5-31-2022
Sue sells shells. She sells seashells by the seashore at
"Sue's Seashell Shop".
Sadly some of the seashells she sells are surreptitiously
stockpiled since they were stealthily salvaged.
Should she be selling surreptitiously stockpiled seashells?
Seems so sneaky of Sue to be selling these seashells.
Should Sue be "sued" for selling surreptitiously stockpiled
seashells so stealthily salvaged?
SEEMS SO !!
angry at the waves
on thrown out of the safe sea
happy in child's hands
09 July 2021
The seashore is seldom silent,
never mourning nor forlorn,
for relentless waves
called on the roll, roar in.
The play's cast of waves
cheered on by the wind,
stand up,
break into applause,
take a bow
and curtain call
together.
Whooping with delight
they crash, splash,
hiss and fizz,
peal endless
in crescendo swishes.
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