Short Sandbars Poems

Short Sandbars Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sandbars by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sandbars by length and keyword.


Sandbars

Are you digging a hole
you will never crawl out of,
a prison self-made by your hand
The metaphors mix
as you lie there betwixt
—the bars sinking into the sand

(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)
Form: Rhyme


Caressful Diction

Moonlit sandbars
Warm summer’s night
Slow swirling stars
A waltz with delight
Romance is soaring 
In heavenly flight
Just words on a page
Hoping they might
Make you feel as I do
When I’m holding you tight

Anchors

To succumb to one's own pride, 
Or to the ferrying tides?
To hold on, you must decide, 
That this journey's worth the ride. 

Often times I see these boats
Stuck on sandbars, sometimes moats,
They can hardly stay afloat,
Yet somehow, onward they go.
© Bo Vigoren  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Unfold

when the moon glows on the sea
the waves whisper, softly on the beach
all secluded, quiet and free
that's where you'll find me

when the stars light up the dark
the tide ebbs, showing the sandbars
if your feelings need a place to park
there is space here in my heart

when you need a hand to hold
want to come in out of the cold
looking for love that's solid gold
let yours and mine unfold
© Jo Bien  Create an image from this poem.

Wharfing the Dawn

Salt water taffy orchestrated,
pouring grain and sweating.
Spinning my silhouette,
as the dog failed his frisbees.

It doesn' let the sun’s rays wash over me,
replicate large wooden planks,
for heart boardwalking day by day.

Sandbars can sometimes be paramour,
idyllic feeding high memories.
So blue as seashells with a spiral pattern.
Averse to an occasional dalliance,
enthralling you, God.


A Strange Flotsam

A running sea
chokes the throat of a cave
then runs away
letting it breathe again.

Starfish light-up
under a luminescent
and radioactive surf,
then are pushed into sandbars
to dry-up and die.

Beach balls are swept ashore,
bleached fingerbones
lift them over the surf,
plastic bottles pile up
with ghost lips
still attached to them.

Soothsayers think we don't know
what's coming,
but we do.

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