collectors of nuts
scavengers by nature
endless shell casings......
ocean
waves indigo . . .
gather shells for my crown ~ ~
contentment mine on a spring night
dreamy
Gather
indigo shells
from the soft ocean bed
contentment rises like the waves
Spring's crown
The deep sands,the rippling waves
The cool breeze,the sailing shells
The vast treasure, underneath it saves
Memories evoke,with the ringing of bells...
Contest name: What's your memory of nature?
You can’t hear me, I’m voiceless
Winds will tell what I say
If they won’t, I’ve no choices
Got no decent PA
I don’t meet expectations
You can’t see what I hide
The most distinct explanations
Sound in splashes of tide
It’s just me on the shore
Walking over again
Empty shells by the score
Glisten in the light rain
The ozone tastes so fresh
And the seagulls fly low
And my heart in your flesh
Keeps its beat while we go..
GOING AFTER HIM
SEASHELLS ON THE SEASHORE JIM
ANOTHER TRUMP WHIM
A golden mote grates
on dusky blue
portent of divine excellence
radiant white nestling
in the humble nook
honed by an oyster
who unveils prized secrets
of the deep
in shadowed places.
Here a tiny hand
Urging for help
Under the rubble
Crafted by conflict
Here a helping hand
Holds urging hand
Clicking hand lapses
Burying it breathless
Here a mother screams
Losing her beloved
A little hand
Can't be reborn
Here little sobbing eyes
Searching for care
Left abandoned
Losing his beloved
Here remain
Empty bowls
Starving souls
And mourning men
Here they cry
Their abode in rubble
Lives under them
Left in agony
There they lie
Calling it peace
Showering shells
Shattering lives
Olive leaf withers
The world watches
"Morning arrives when the brilliant sun first kisses the Atlantic Ocean." By Poet
Once again the brilliant sun arose with a smile,
peeking over pretty water of blue.
For now the waves remain so calm,
a very quite and peaceful beach.
Walking in sand leaving footprints,
as the cool water licks my feet.
Overnight the Atlantic Ocean brings a gift,
scatters the sand with pretty shells.
Colors like a rainbow yet from the sea,
so many sizes to choose from.
As I walk picking up pretty shells,
people are starting to arrive.
Peaceful day is now filling up,
filling up with laughs~crying kids
Summer months where you can get burned,
being filled with very hot days.
I love the many winter months,
with the perfect daily weather.
Cool nights with warm days to enjoy,
the perfect Atlantic Ocean and perfect beach
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
Isn't it funny how people see money
pieces of metal so very small
there's not a lot you can do
with a penny or two
money itself has really no uses at all
it used to be beads and once it was shells
at least you could wear them and buy or sell
how many have a dim view of money
pieces of paper so wafer-thin
there's not much you can fill with a note or a bill
money itself has very few ways it can thrill
its value is based on the bars of gold
buried in the basement of a bank
and whomever says whatever they're worth
is who we have thank
the root of all evil isn't money it's man
he'll wheel deal and steal to grab all he can
the more money he has the more money he needs
the root of all evil is mankind and his greed
up the hill
so I can see you
tootle-ha
and wielding
your smile from dawn to twilight
waving tootle-loo
in valley
I can touch your flesh
eat you up
with you sup
my buttercup of moonshine
no need to move lips
in your arms
can hear chest beating
and the roar
of the sea
as your lips slip between shells
and the sun melts me
up on top
you look down at me
I’m the town
we’re grounded
you are the undying wind
of love’s moan and sigh
Once upon a time on the sands she thought she found true love
then one day he went his way what was she dreaming of
now she walks the shoreline alone along the low water mark
searching for seashells on her own from sunrise until dark
at the end of the tunnel there's always a light
a ray of hope in the darkest night
every black cloud has a silver lining
it's in there somewhere bright and shining
one day at the beach she met a man later they were lovers
strange to say he moved away left her for another
now she strolls the shoreline alone all along the high tide mark
searching for seashells on her own from sunup until dark
and when love leaves home what's there to do
surrender to sadness and sing the blues
when love leaves home what's to be done
but live with the madness 'til the pain is gone
Empty shells I find on the beach
can be looked at in two ways.
In one aspect, they are seeds of death -
the only tangible remains of once-living creatures
now planted randomly in the sand,
but also it can be said that
rootless - they still blossom beneath the sun
with their beautiful spiraled patterns
as flowers from the sea.
Shells and starfish
Has many meaning to me
Both live in the sea.
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