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Sunset By The Sea

I'm unable to visit a seaside town, and not see the mighty ocean;
I find myself being pulled there, with a sense of magnetic motion.
I sit surveying the sea, for a while, with a completely rested mind;
Moments like these, in everyday life, can be so very hard to find.

The lamps which line both sides of the long, wooden panelled pier,
Shine brightly, through the gathering gloom, bringing some cheer.
Despite the bitterly cold weather, and the now fast fading daylight,
Dozens of joggers disappear down the prom, running into the night.

Between the sea and sky, there is usually a distinct horizon to see,
But the sight which I see before my eyes, seems very strange to me:
The sea and sky seem to appear as one: both a shade of light grey;
To onlookers, only the foam crested waves, give the game away.

Waves rapidly rush towards the beach, and they furiously foam.
Along the water's edge, only the odd few stragglers still do roam.
On the shining, sodden sand, I see a young couple's reflection;
Looking relaxed, they stroll, hand in hand, in the sea's direction.

A couple rest on the railings, watching the roaring, rolling surf;
Nothing can measure what moments, like these, are really worth.
The pearly sky is streaked with shades of greys, blues, and pinks.
In the far distance, a string of white lights seems to urgently wink.

The light is fading, but, still, people are drawn towards the sea;
For some, it seems the only place where they really want to be.
The effect which water has on people, seems to be very calming;
Towns situated by the sea, are always considered very charming.

Once I'm stood before the ocean, I so desperately want to stay,
And I find it almost impossible to have to drag myself away.
But, in the end, I have to leave, as tonight I have a concert date;
It is the sole reason for my being here, so I really can't be late.

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bournemouth Blues

In the summer, in the baking sun,
Bournemouth oozes a sense of fun,
But in the winter, when skies are grey,
I have no real desire to want to stay.

Today, the silvery sea is surfer-less;
The wind on my face is cold and fresh.
On my face, I can feel the sea's spray,
As, along the prom, we make our way.

The beach beyond is now almost bare;
The wild wind roughly ruffles my hair.
A couple of people walk along the pier;
In the sea air, there is now left little cheer.

The sea is coloured like a grey battleship;
No kiosks are open for fish and chips.
At the seafront pub, we have a cup of tea;
We sit by the window, looking out to sea.

At the seafront pub, the people are all inside;
At this time of year, there's no Land Train ride.
Out on the ocean, no boats are bobbing about;
From the Fairground, there are no excited shouts.

Down on the beach, dogs are exercised;
Up in the air, seagulls execute noisy cries.
Towards the beach, the waves all race;
Topped with foam, which looks like lace.

That it was still summer, I really do wish;
The sounds of summer, I really do miss.
Along the seafront, we do not stroll,
Because the weather is far too cold.

Darkness starts to fall, come late afternoon:
In my opinion, it draws in way too soon.
The daylight now quickly begins to fade,
As, back to the Station, we make our way.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Anywhere

I WALK THE MAZE OF MOMENTS
BUT EVERYWHERE I TURN TO
BEGINS A NEW BEGINNING
BUT NEVER FINDS A FINISH
I WALK TO THE HORIZON
AND THERE I FIND ANOTHER
IT ALL SEEMS SO SURPRISING
AND THEN I FIND THAT I KNOW
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER
I GO THERE ILL LOSE MY WAY
IF WE STAY HERE WERE NOT TOGETHER
ANYWHERE IS
THE MOON UPON THE OCEAN
IS SWEPT AROUND IN MOTION
BUT WITHOUT EVER KNOWING
THE REASON FOR ITS FLOWING
IN MOTION ON THE OCEAN
THE MOON STILL KEEPS ON MOVING
THE WAVES STILL KEEP ON WAVING
AND I STILL KEEP ON GOING
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER...
I WONDER IF THE STARS SIGN
THE LIFE THAT IS TO BE MINE
AND WOULD THEY LET THEIR LIGHT SHINE
ENOUGH FOR ME TO FOLLOW
I LOOK UP TO THE HEAVENS
BUT NIGHT HAS CLOUDED OVER
NO SPARK OF CONSTELLATION
NO VELA NO ORION
THE SHELLS UPON THE WARM SANDS
HAVE TAKEN FROM THEIR OWN LANDS
THE ECHO OF THEIR STORY
BUT ALL I HEAR ARE LOW SOUNDS
AS PILLOW WORDS ARE WEAVING
AND WILLOW WAVES ARE LEAVING
BUT SHOULD I BE BELIEVING
THAT I AM ONLY DREAMING
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER...
TO LEAVE THE THREAD OF ALL TIME
AND LET IT MAKE A DARK LINE
IN HOPES THAT I CAN STILL FIND
THW WAY BACK TO THE MOMENT
I TOOK THE TURN AND TURN TO
BEGIN A NEW BEGINNING
STILL LOOKING FOR THE ANSWER
I CANNOT FIND THE FINISH
ITS EITHER THIS OR THAT WAY
ITS ONE WAY OR THE OTHER
IT SHOULD BE ONE DIRECTION
IT COULD BE ON REFLECTION
THE TURN I HAVE JUST TAKEN
THE TURN THAT I WAS MAKING
I MIGHT BE JUST BEGINNING
I MIGHT BE NEAR THE END

song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost At Sea.

You remember now the sound of the sea,
The crashing of waves, the white and grey
Gulls in the sky. Mother said, don’t go too
Far out; keep an eye on the young ones.
The cold water made you hop about when
It first went over your bare feet. You knew
Where the young ones were, you could see
Them there at the water’s edge running in
And out as the cold water chased them.
The beach was crowded; the crowds seemed
To occupy each area with their deckchairs,
Windbreakers and towels spread on the sand.
The bright sun shone down heavily; the air
Was still. And Mother’s voice loudly shouting,
Where’s Baba? Where’s she gone? And the
Place she was with the others was without
Her presence now; the panic gripped you.
Your eyes scanned the beach and sea; you ran
Along the beach near the water’s edge gazing
Out at the wide expanse of ocean, ignoring the
Passing ships on the horizon, the sailing boats,
The far out swimmers, just looking for Baba,
Your eyes searching each face, each child, every
Little one running on the beach or out at sea out
Of reach. Mother came running down the beach
Towards you, her face red with effort, her mouth
Screaming out words carried off by the other
Sounds and the sea’s call, pointing out at ocean’s
Hold as a man came up and out of the waves,
Water dripping, eyes wide, and in his arms, Baba
Limp and her swaying head, hair hanging wet,
Seeming lost to you, small arms swinging, dead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Ocean Breeze

As I look out at the ocean
As I drive down the coast,
All I can see is a little bit of white and the rest nothing but blue,
Only thing that this scene can bring is nothing bad, but to boast.

By this bringing nothing, but the deep beauty to me and you.
Enjoying everything such as the white waves crashing into the rocks at the ocean,
And feeling the Ocean Breeze as it shot past us further than anything else can reach.
This is when all you can hear is nothing but water as it is motion.

Causing me to want get out of the car and walk down on the beach,
And to the foam builds up as the wave starts to hits its crest.
As the beach sand stuck to the bottom of my feet,
Or as I stopped and dug down in the sand to search for that sunken treasure chest.

Feeling that wave
Or as it knocked you over down on your seat.
This something that a lot of people will never hear or see.
And this is why the Ocean Breeze and Scene means so much me
By Frank Pulver

poem by Frank Pulver
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Ocean Breakers

She went to water;
she always did.

The heaving ocean
matched her heavy breathing;

it was a Ocean of Tears
like hers.

The swells crash
against the shore
relentlessly;
life was relentless too.

The foam;

Anger in the Water that day.

She went to water
she always did,

moving among the sand dunes,

face against the wind.

The sea gulls overhead;
caw! caw! caw!

She lifts her arms,
the wind blows her sleeves
making a flapping sound;

she could hear whispers
between the breakers,

she could hear weeping
among the retreating waves.

She stood there
on the Edge of Forever.

There is no end to the ocean.

Every day it calls to the Sun
and makes it rise.
.
Every night it extinguishes it.

She could walk to China;
she could
and no one would know;
no one would know.

The voice said
'I thought I would find you here'

Waves crashing
more soothing now
two tracks in the sand.

Sad swells
rise again
and retreat;

time and ocean breaks
bring them back together again.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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There Is No Riddle', Wittgenstein

there is no riddle but in the mind
riding the inate thought waves
riding a language lonely rides
bathing within the foam names
white blind still sublime
soaking wet that mind craves
the end of its own time
to surf the peaceful ocean
of life long devotion

there is no riddle but in the eyes
watching the stairless sunsets
climbing the sight up the skies
casting the fragile fish nets
into the water whirl that defines
their depth their width their prey
and the burden of their day
in a silent breath of air

there is no riddle but in the hand
that open the shrines that opens the caves
some light to dark to lend
to pull up the blinds
to comprehend
those eyes that look
those eyes that took
the colour of the first born mind
the riddle to paint the answer to find

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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He Miss The Old Town

He miss the old town by the ocean and he misses the smell of the sea
And in his moments of nostalgia in fancy he hear and see
The silver gulls above the wide beach in small flocks they call as they fly
And the soft pipings of the sooty oystercatchers echo in the clear morning sky.

He was a young man of the sixties and young men they age and grow old
All year round he rode the big surf waves in a wet suit to keep out the cold
Till he wandered far from the ocean fell in love, married and settled down
An ageing dad with teenage daughters he lives in a big inland Town.

He is out of practice for surfing and he lives far from the ocean shore
A champion young surfer of the sixties perhaps he will surf never more
You can take the man from the ocean but the ocean does not leave the man
Though far from the roar of the surf waves he well may live out his time span.

He miss the old town by the ocean though he now might feel a stranger there
A champion young surfer of the late sixties till lust for wander it took him to elsehwere
in his imaginings he rides the big waves and on his face the ocean spray
And at heart he is a coastal person though from there he lives far away.

poem by Francis Duggan
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In My Wild Flights Of Fancy The Ocean I Can See

The blueness of the saltwater the white waves rolling free
In my wild flights of fancy the ocean i can see
The silver gulls and black backed gulls above the white beach cry
And the sun is shining brightly in the clear and sunny sky,
The children in the shallows they laugh and splash and run
In the coolness of sea water their way of having fun
On a pleasant day in Summer of 25 degrees
And there is a soothing freshness in the freshening ocean breeze,
The distinctive smell of the seaweed washed in by the last tide
A refuge from beach predators for tiny sea things to breed in and hide
Coastal people love the ocean and near the ocean they choose to stay
And in the coastal cemeteries their last remains do lay
The rumble of the ocean the white waves running free
And in my flights of fancy the sea is calling me.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Another Near To Perfect Day

In the sky the sun brightly shining the blue sky with some clouds of gray
On an afternoon in late October another near to perfect day
The white surf waves are gently rolling one reason no surfer in sight
And the silver gulls on the white beach search for food in the warm sunlight
An artist may well sketch such beauty and writers about it may write
By the coastal town on the surf beach there is beauty in peace and quiet
Today the ocean is not roaring no big waves for surfers to ride
The waves on the beach gently lapping so timid the sea at low tide
In the park the magpie larks calling the only notes they sing pee wee
And wattlebirds on the flowering coastal banksias their harsh calls familiar to me
On a beautiful day in the Springtime of around 24 degrees
And there is a cool sort of freshness in the cool freshening coastal breeze
Save for the silver gulls the beach is deserted and so clean is the fresh coastal air
A good memory to keep and to cherish and a good memory with others to share.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Ocean Avenue

There's a place off Ocean Avenue
Where I used to sit and talk with you
We were both 16 and it felt so right
Sleeping all day, staying up all night
Staying up all night
There's a place on the corner of Cherry Street
We would walk on the beach in our bare feet
We were both 18 and it felt so right
Sleeping all day, staying up all night
Staying up all night
If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
Let your waves crash down on me and take me away
There's a piece of you that's here with me
It's everywhere I go, it's everything I see
When I sleep, I dream and it gets me by
I can make believe that you're here tonight
That you're here tonight
If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together
Let your waves crash down on me and take me away
I remember the look in your eyes
When I told you that this was goodbye
You were begging me not tonight
Not here, not now
We're looking up at the same night sky
And keep pretending the sun will not rise
Be together for one more night
Somewhere, somehow
If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together
Let your waves crash down on me and take me away

song performed by by Yellowcard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ocean Avenue

song performed by by Yellowcard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.'

poem by Joe Fazio
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Under A Blanket Of Stars...