Meeting at Night
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
poem by Robert Browning from Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845)

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Me, My Dog, And The Beach
To the beach, my dog and I run,
Play catch frisbees, just for fun.
Umbrella's to block the sun,
Waves crash upon the sand.
My dog chases gulls that try to land. Sky so blue, sand so white,
My dog and I, were up at daylight.
Winds are warm and blowing slight,
Ocean sprays, dog strays,
Sand blows, through our toes. It gets cool, the sun goes down,
My dog and I, head back to town.
It's time we leave the beach to rest.
After all, we were just a guest.
All the birds have flown away.
We will come back, another day.
Just me and my dog, to play.
poem by Karen Curcio

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Malaysiana - Leatherback Turtle
coconut leaves rustle,
running with the wind
at at least 20 km per hour
waves surge at an
equally frantic speed -
patriotic hands that
repeatedly hold onto
the beach with a roaring
and thunderous voice to
match their claim
a giant turtle slowly emerges
in the water, a dark shadow
accenting the night with its
rare mound and strenuous flippers
the final touchdown in a
thousand mile comeback
each stride and lug forward
reflects a firm belief in the land
that it belongs to
it is the first comeback after
many many years at sea
and now for the noblest of chores
in less than two hours,
at least a hundred
ping pong size eggs
have gone into a hole it has dug
a hole large enough to hold
all its love for the land
and you should see how tears
keep rolling down its eyes
as it thanks god it still remembers
its way back to shower its gratitude
to the land that had given him birth
the giant turtle remembers how years
ago it had crept out of its egg, shoveled away sand
and without another thought made its
precarious way to the freedom of the sea
despite the brief encounter, it never never
forgot the land it originated from, its smell, its winds,
its sounds and has logged every inch it had swam
to make that triumphant return today
the hundred eggs hold its hundred wishes
that this tradition be kept for as long
as leatherback turtle exists
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Sky-Minded
Blue sky,
blue sky.
Looking at you, wishing the day by.
Blue sky,
purple sky.
Storm coming in, here it is, there's the eye.
Blue sky,
grey sky.
The earth is wailing, the thunder yells, and the clouds cry.
Blue sky,
grey sky,
black sky.
Tore away at the moon, swallowed stars, listened to the sun die.
Black sky
Green sky
Orange sky
Red sky
Pink and yellow and mean sky.
Come on and roll in; it's only in my mind.
poem by Delilah Miller

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Table Bay (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Matthew Arnold)
The sea lies flat like a huge lake tonight
but for the spray
that is endlessly sweeping in and out
on the white bay,
some couples walk on the beach
on holiday;
holding their hands under a yellow moon,
some bright beacons and stars will be out soon.
In the distance Table Mountain rises
its huge old bulk,
is gigantic black and flat against the sky
like a ship's hulk
where it marks the African continent;
sails of yachts sulk
as they lie limp in the windless great harbour
while tranquil people are home from labour.
Lights gleam far away at sea, are passing,
with a long lost
feeling of the great endlessness; as waves
fling, churn and toss
the hopes, fears and happiness of nations;
the great-great cost
of ending impoverishment, the ills
of vast centuries as destiny wills.
At a time faith and the will to be great,
did flow to sea,
like rivers in torrents that did rush in;
people were free
from the wars on the great black continent,
no destiny
could harass the nations, the pyramids,
that any living it now does forbid.
Like waves endlessly crushing on the beach,
and never spent
drawing back again, rushing to and thro
the sheer moment
between us has something that is lasting;
evanescent,
with some joys in our mutual discourse
life also flows to its ultimate course.
[Reference: 'Dover Beach' by Matthew Arnold.]
poem by Gert Strydom

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Aditi in a Dream at Wollongong (A Poem for My Daughter)
That evening jogging on the beach with my friends
miles and miles away from home i was alone
the sea was rolling and unrolling its carpet of blue and grey
with what was a milk-border of foam
rolling and unrolling it endlessly or so it seemed
a score of seagulls on the shore flapped their wings
starchwhite some picking morsels from the sand
jogging on the beach that evening miles and miles
away from home i ran into a dream
a little challenged girl in knickers and sportshirt
was carried by the waves to the shore
and as she stepped on the beach i held her hand
she walked with me her puny feet at every step
battling with the sand her head swayed sideward
with the breeze.
she clapped her hands now and then and broke
into an incoherent song seemingly happy walking the beach
i was happy too holding her hand that evening
jogging on the beach till the shout of friends behind
woke me up
alone in my room that night i felt disturbed
sleep was long in coming... waking up at morn
i learnt my TV had been on whole night!
poem by Sunil Uniyal

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The Sea Hold
THE SEA is large.
The sea hold on a leg of land in the Chesapeake hugs an early sunset and a last morning star over the oyster beds and the late clam boats of lonely men.
Five white houses on a half-mile strip of land... five white dice rolled from a tube.
Not so long ago... the sea was large...
And to-day the sea has lost nothing... it keeps all.
I am a loon about the sea.
I make so many sea songs, I cry so many sea cries, I forget so many sea songs and sea cries.
I am a loon about the sea.
So are five men I had a fish fry with once in a tar-paper shack trembling in a sand storm.
The sea knows more about them than they know themselves.
They know only how the sea hugs and will not let go.
The sea is large.
The sea must know more than any of us.
poem by Carl Sandburg

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Beach
BEACH
On the beach, egrets sleep, peacefully curled together.
Waves roaring and waves wildness wipe on the beach.
The moon is reflected on the water.
This scene could bring a person close with GOD,
GO TO ON ANY BEACH.
poem by Darryl K. Porter

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beach
BEACH
soft, warm sand
smooth sand castles
white birds
salty, blue water
loud, giggly children playing
peaceful vacation
poem by Kera Davis

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Match Girl
It was biting cold, and the falling snow,
Which filled a poor little match girl's heart with woe,
Who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street,
Crying, "Who'll buy my matches? for I want pennies to buy some meat!"
When she left home she had slippers on;
But, alas! poor child, now they were gone.
For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street,
Out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet.
So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast;
And the child's heart felt cold and downcast,
For nobody had bought any matchea that day,
Which filled her little mind with grief and dismay.
Alas! she was hungry and shivering with cold;
So in a corner between two houses she made bold
To take shelter from the violent storm.
Poor little waif! wishing to herself she'd never been born.
And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home
For fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone
Because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread,
And to go home without pennies she was in dread.
The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair;
While the passers-by for her had no care,
As they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace,
While the cold wind blew in the match girl's face.
As night wore on her hands were numb with cold,
And no longer her strength could her uphold,
When an idea into her little head came:
She'd strike a match and warm her hands at the flame.
And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly,
And it helped to fill her heart with glee;
And she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand;
But, alas! she was found dead, with a match in her hand!
Her body was found half-covered with snow,
And as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe;
And many present let fall a burning tear
Because she was found dead on the last night of the year,
In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold -
But, alas! their charity towards street waifs is rather cold.
But I hope the match girl's in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear,
A bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall

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Dillard Sissman
The buzzards wheel slowly
In wide circles, in a sky
Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.
And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie
Beating the grass into long waves.
My kite is above the wind,
Though now and then it wobbles,
Like a man shaking his shoulders;
And the tail streams out momentarily,
Then sinks to rest.
And the buzzards wheel and wheel,
Sweeping the zenith with wide circles
Above my kite. And the hills sleep.
And a farm house, white as snow,
Peeps from green trees -- far away.
And I watch my kite,
For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,
Then she will swing like a pendulum dial
To the tail of my kite.
A spurt of flame like a water-dragon
Dazzles my eyes --
I am shaken as a banner!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under A Blanket Of Stars
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
Under A Blanket Of Stars...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
The Power Of The Beach
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
I Am The Beach...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
Moon, We Look to You.
Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.
Moon, despite the clarity of sky,
Metaphors of cloud that fluff with grey
Drift across your rounded face to spy;
Feeding back, there's awfully much to say.
Moon, you have a role to play up there –
We below must bear the earthly pain.
Duty bound, we shoulder sorrows fair –
You are free from our grotesque disdain.
Moon, we depend on you to shine
When the sun retires down below.
Add to that your grandest role divine:
Tidal Lord, to keep the seas in tow!
Moon, I hope you take to heart our plea –
Needless is the reason for your blue.
Beaming, you should give the night its glee:
We're despairing – so we look to you.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
Moon moon, moon so blue, moon, moon so blue
poem by Mark R Slaughter

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tears & Fears
My little girl sitts in her room
Locked for years and years
Her mummy knits and watches tv
And she never dried her tears
Daddy drinks the whole night long
Hes gotta work so hard
Well, hes beating his daughter black and blue
And the neighbours think hes smart
Well, in the land of tears and fears
In the land of tears and fears
Everybody blocks his ears
In the land of tears and fears
No one really matters
What happens in that song
And they close their eyes and close their ears
And they drink some more
My little girl sitts in her room
And she feels so alone
And no one takes her by the hands
You just froze your heart to stone
I dont care what my neighbour does
As long as he doesnt kill his cat
I stumble nights and try my tele
I stumble nights just out off my head
Well, at night some guys sleep
And some get bad
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunset On The Beach
Warm wind blows on my skin,
waves splash as I splash my fin.
Warm blue water of the ocean,
fish swim around me in motion.
I stare up at the setting sun,
clouds of yellow, pink, purple
wrapped into clouds swirling into one.
A lonely pelican flies by,
as more clouds cross the sky.
I see lovers walk through sand,
each holding each other hands.
Then waves become white with force,
I realize I’ve stayed my course,
leaving before rain starts to pour,
I say “goodbye sunset” as I transform and walk to shore.
poem by Christina Sunrise

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Beach or Not To Beach
The beach, for some a burst of bravado,
for others a bath of brilliance.
Sand-coated with lotion and encompassed with cellulite,
I enviously gaze around me.
Bikini bronzed bodies swarm the beach,
while children are amused with sand-castles and beach balls.
Invading music blares from the neighbouring umbrellas,
and with a headache developing,
I cringingly approach the waves.
Mulitcoloured surfboards ride the towering waves,
and currently joined by eager faces,
we duck and dive in time to each wave.
For a cure to the killer salt in one’s mouth.,
I recommend the common beach ice cream
and armed with my overflowing towel,
I retreat for the day.
A fiery sunset is the perfect ending for any beach experience.
as footprints are imprinted on the moist sea sand,
some will experience feelings of tranquil peace,
Others, feelings of physical pain…
poem by Margaret Purslow

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The Dark Stag
1 A startled stag, the blue-grey Night,
2 Leaps down beyond black pines.
3 Behind--a length of yellow light--
4 The hunter's arrow shines:
5 His moccasins are stained with red,
6 He bends upon his knee,
7 From covering peaks his shafts are sped,
8 The blue mists plume his mighty head,--
9 Well may the swift Night flee!
10 The pale, pale Moon, a snow-white doe,
11 Bounds by his dappled flank:
12 They beat the stars down as they go,
13 Like wood-bells growing rank.
14 The winds lift dewlaps from the ground,
15 Leap from the quaking reeds;
16 Their hoarse bays shake the forests round,
17 With keen cries on the track they bound,--
18 Swift, swift the dark stag speeds!
19 Away! his white doe, far behind,
20 Lies wounded on the plain;
21 Yells at his flank the nimblest wind,
22 His large tears fall in rain;
23 Like lily-pads, small clouds grow white
24 About his darkling way;
25 From his bald nest upon the height
26 The red-eyed eagle sees his flight;
27 He falters, turns, the antlered Night,--
28 The dark stag stands at bay!
29 His feet are in the waves of space;
30 His antlers broad and dun
31 He lowers; he turns his velvet face
32 To front the hunter, Sun;
33 He stamps the lilied clouds, and high
34 His branches fill the west.
35 The lean stork sails across the sky,
36 The shy loon shrieks to see him die,
37 The winds leap at his breast.
38 Roar the rent lakes as thro' the wave
39 Their silver warriors plunge,
40 As vaults from core of crystal cave
41 The strong, fierce muskallunge;
42 Red torches of the sumach glare,
43 Fall's council-fires are lit;
44 The bittern, squaw-like, scolds the air;
45 The wild duck splashes loudly where
46 The rustling rice-spears knit.
47 Shaft after shaft the red Sun speeds:
48 Rent the stag's dappled side,
49 His breast, fanged by the shrill winds, bleeds,
50 He staggers on the tide;
51 He feels the hungry waves of space
52 Rush at him high and blue;
53 Their white spray smites his dusky face,
54 Swifter the Sun's fierce arrows race
55 And pierce his stout heart thro'.
56 His antlers fall; once more he spurns
57 The hoarse hounds of the day;
58 His blood upon the crisp blue burns,
59 Reddens the mounting spray;
60 His branches smite the wave--with cries
61 The loud winds pause and flag--
62 He sinks in space--red glow the skies,
63 The brown earth crimsons as he dies,
64 The strong and dusky stag.
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford

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The Sun Over The Sea Died
Slowly the sun on the sea died away,
with sunset glowing over Table Bay,
in the distance at the end of day
did the Robben Island lie somewhat grey.
Waves rolled in breaking on the beach
while the island was away, out of reach,
in the evening stars were in the black sky,
while the full moon hang yellow and high
with glittering water catching the eye,
quickly did the romantic evening fly
and your soft tender hand were warm in mine
while our blooming love felt somewhat divine
and the day did very slowly decline
with lights on the sea drawing a straight line.
poem by Gert Strydom

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