Empty seashore
The seashore is empty!
In the sea breeze, a vision—
your form!...
a puzzle!... with the pieces of your absence
joined in the refrain of the lapping waves—
pebbles, seaweed, and seashells.
Upon the emerging pebbles,
your light tread!...
An Aphrodite passing by,
steeped in the brine of youth,
leaving behind—in the fading wave—
a note of a wild waltz for this refrain.
Amidst the tangled seaweed,
your embrace!...
tight against the body of beauty,
loosened in the storm of desire,
two rose petals surrendered to the foam,
a note of stolen love—this refrain.
Upon the broken shells,
a shared promise—
the vow of an eternal love,
violated in the shifting sands,
like a shipwreck’s keel snapped in two;
the empty shoreline—a puzzle piece.
I built a castle in the sand,
The biggest one in all the
land.
A seashell serves as helper
on the seashore,
With bright dancing glitters
on the sand,
Until the waves washed all
the sand away.
A tall Tree with lush-green leaves in my backyard,
standing upright like an umbrella gives me shade,
refuge to countless birds and squirrels.
Heart-wrenching tune created by a musician from the strings of a Veena,
surreal temple chimes serenading to the horizon,
soothing birdsongs at every dawn in summer,
chirping by homecoming birds at vermillion dusk,
emerald waves lapping on the amber seashore….
collecting seashells from the sand I walk on barefoot,
watching snow falling incessantly and
creating silvery laces on the roof-tops,
All these and many more,
makes my heart melt and feel serenely thankful.
On seashore's realm a fragrant rose in bloom.
A surfer with her board observes the rock
along the shore where butterflies repose.
Butterfly clothed in hues of spring alights.
On scented breeze he lightly settles down
and holds a pose of grace and elegance.
As the surfer gently tiptoes in to see
the butterfly responds in movement, too.
His wings they open up and close for her.
By this she takes his gesture as sincere.
She smiles and soon believes her heart is sure.
She's found a lovely butterfly to love.
"At the beach - time you enjoyed wasting, is not wasted." -T. S. Eliot
It's a beautiful day at the seashore
To explore the beach on this warm day
As I walk along, hearing the ocean roar
Children are out and about at the beach to play
Seagulls are flying nearby and squawking about
Parents are out guarding, keeping them away
A whale is spotted spraying from his spout
A site seeing cruise ship stops to watch the show
While some children excitedly scream and shout
I walk along the path, where the sweet roses grow
Until I reach the hidden ocean cave
With tide pools of crabs and shells to bestow
A Seal is beached while wetted from a wave
This relaxing beach adventure is what I crave
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I traipse along the seashore
where the tide forgets its name,
where the seagulls cry like lost receipts,
where the sand, pale as a sleepless page,
whispers: Look down. Look down.
But I search the horizon instead~
that bluish orange hyphen between here
and whatever comes next.
The ocean licks its lips,
spatting out a shell, half-cracked,
a confession in porcelain.
Is this you? the waves murmur,
rolling their r’s like a drunk god.
I hold it to my ear~
hear the static of a thousand voices
and the hiss of dead radios.
A crab scurries by me, dragging its life
like a piece of baggage with damaged wheels.
You’re overthinking it,
says the wind,
but the wind always says that.
At twilight, my silhouette stretches long,
a black rope thrown toward the sea.
I tug. Nothing tugs back.
And the moon, that cheap spotlight,
clicks on—illuminating
only how far I haven’t gone.
Poem published at creativeramblings.com/writing-prompts/writing-challenge-27/ on February 22, 2026
Rooted in gold,
I rise in a wave.
Flow returns.
Strength reclaims.
It comes on the tide.
In skies, my mind rides.
The Cosmos cleans
My mind is in golden dreams.
The sea enchants much as mermaids do.
Waves as far as I can see.
The cool salt air upon my lips.
Sweet sounds of freedom beckon.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Seashore Haiku
waves waltz on the sand
seagulls sing their sweet songs~
sea breeze softly sighs
Born in Lyme Regis Dorset
a palaeontologist fossil collector
in the English Channel marine bed cliffs
and a coprolites (faeces) detector
who at only twelve years old
found the first two skeletons plesiosaur
and outside Germany
that of a pterosaur
yet as a woman who did not
always receive full credit
for her scientific contributions
and ineligible to join to their discredit
the Geological Society of London
while struggling financially
for her it was no shell game
to make ends meet as circumstantially
when selling shells by the seashore
the seashore shells she sold
were her start of the first shell company
by the Natural History Museum in London I was told
Sly low tide sneaks up to smooch the smooth shore
that holds old footsteps left behind us
and lends itself to sand castles
standing guard until high tide
plovers dart on fleet feet
across sodden sands
spindle-legged girls
hunt conch shells—
starfish
found!
Blue
waters
glistening
aqua appeal—
white-horse sea magic
spindrift manes rise from crests
awakened from lowest ebb
high tide arrives on thunder hooves
body-surf Neptune’s steeds to the shore—
my wet hair dries to sun-bleached beachy waves…
A soothing red sun bows to the moonlight
as time once again takes my soul beyond
to steal me away from Ambered twilight
and mesmerize emotions to respond
My heart becomes married to the vast shore
while walking the sands of the untamed sea
beneath the moon and starlight, I adore
I will find a beautiful serenity
Alone yet not, as the sea is awake
with voices from waves heard in the night
during this intimate journey, I take
my soul becomes peaceful and will take flight
To rest in a universe just as wide
where my footprints left will fade with the tide
On a rocky shore she sits alone under the darken skies, a flock of gulls glided away in search of food supplies.
She stares ahead in time to see the sun before the rise. She was amazed to see its rays tickling the pinky skies.
The foamy waves moved to and fro caressing the rocky shores, the hidden tides away they drew, brushing the sandy floors.
The morning breeze flowed away tousling her tidy hair, fondling her rosy cheeks with all the love and care.
Along the coast the bush did grow between the grass and tree, to all the bears a place of nest for every honey bee.
Just up ahead she saw a path that led from land to sea, she looked around and felt alive to be among the free.
Saleh Ben Saleh
On the shore playing with ,The sand on my hands whispering a mellody a beutifule illumination of a rainbow.one,two,three,Its the sand on my feet a twinkelling drop on my eye.The universe &skys are blue falling in love.Hearing the sounds of ,The shore so wonderful that,I can smell the lillys in myrtle beach north carollina.
On the cliff at the Worm’s Head
High above the horns of the bay
I see the surfers ride great waves
With horses’ manes
That ever fail, but never end
In the strong Atlantic surge
In the estuary at Dartmouth
Where the oyster boats dredge
Turning and drifting in slow shadow dance
Great nets of shells are hauled up
And poured out on to the decks
As I plunge upriver
Tacking along the wending Dart
With bent-puzzle oaks on either side
I hear a sudden hush descend
Upon a lonely river hythe
As time and air, smooth and still
Forever glide, like Mayflies
On cold, clear water
In the seaway by the port
With its unmistakable algal aroma
Of the British seashore
I hear the heavy horn of a freighter
That plies its path
And never sinks, yet ever diminishes
Beyond the waves
And far from the pier of the seaside town
Where sandpipers probe
In spiral casts
I hear the penthal call of the curlew
Like silver flourishes on a black cloud
That never moves, but holds dominion
In the cold morning air.
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