Fragments from the Beach
(Nonasyllabics)
In retrospect the tragic nature
of sea is a taste wept too daily,
too depleted by freedom's rupture;
the eyes have other secrets to see
and deeper use for the detritus
within us: the bright effluvium
of ego dries up, mired as it is
in wealth, that remedial medium.
Blame it on fate, on beach memories--
pebble put in the pocket or shell
fragments; any memento carries
us as much as we it. Time capsule
contains every evening's interval.
The ocean observes its own puddle.
poem by Bill Knott
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Related quotes
The Fisher’s Boy
MY life is like a stroll upon the beach,
As near the ocean’s edge as I can go;
My tardy steps its waves sometimes o’erreach,
Sometimes I stay to let them overflow.
My sole employment is, and scrupulous care,
To place my gains beyond the reach of tides,—
Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare,
Which Ocean kindly to my hand confides.
I have but few companions on the shore:
They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea;
Yet oft I think the ocean they’ve sailed o’er
Is deeper known upon the strand to me.
The middle sea contains no crimson dulse,
Its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view;
Along the shore my hand is on its pulse,
And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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Ambition
what i hold inside my pocket is just a pebble.
it is all that i have now.
i take it again put it on the table and look at its face closely
you know that it has no eyes
or hands or feet, i let it stay there as though there is only one pebble
in this universe of sands, i listen.
i let time stop for a while.
i look at the sky tonight and there are so many stars.
they are so distant you know that and you feel that
i take the pebble back in my pocket,
there will be no exchange, it is enough for my anchor
it is now my own rock.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Before Or After... Alzheimers
Dementia’s realness with no lifeline,
The burning desires spills its ashes
On reality thru the twilight years.
Memories struggle against the power
Of the black hole of nothing,
That claw at your struggle
To hold memories in a box.
A box of time zones black and white,
Now spilt out in fragments
In disarray
All around your feet,
Tapping to the memento of the rocking chair.
I of your blood, who love you so,
Cannot let you go to the shuffle rooms of an
Old peoples home.
Your glazed eyes see thru me,
Am I not real, a ghost
A shell of myself? I feel you know.
Breakfast time approaches
“Mum your tablets”
You exude repetition
“Before or after? ”
“After mum, after.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Grace In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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race In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Time Spent is a Real Treasure
I love a girl
She is just like pearl
With hair silky and curl
She is my classmate
For her I am desperate
She is my heart
She is never late
She never misses the date
On time she does meet
We have hearty talk
And we enjoy the evening walk
Along the beach
Waddling on the ocean water
Playing with ocean currents
Singing with the tune of dancing currents
Diving in the ocean of love
The moments are cherishable
Collecting pebble
On the shore
And throwing in the ocean
Every little act gives pleasure
The time spent is a real treasure
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Beach Pebble
Everyone has
at one time or other,
picked up a pebble on the beach,
turned it over in their hands,
sensed something of its uniqueness,
how millions of years have gone to the splitting
and the smoothing of the rock,
to the perfect shaping of the pebble.
Few of us stop and think for longer.
It is a momentary glimpse into an eternal process,
but we dropp the pebble and carry on walking along the beach.
poem by Howlin' Dervish
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In The Presence Of
AndersonHoweSquireWhite
September 11, 2001
Deeper than every ocean
Deeper than every river
That's what your presence brings to me
Revealing the words I listen
Seeing you in my silence
Learning I'm with you constantly
As I was before
If we were flowers
We would worship the sun
So why not now?
This high is shining brightly
Brighter than before
As the door was open wide
There inside was a diamond chair
Where I sat when I was young
I wrote down the words
Only when the young at heart
Can enter the real world
This chance I've waited for
For you to see
If I had chances I would spend them with you
To hold you close and let your love surround me
Deeper than before
(Deeper than every ocean)
And I know this love is real
(Deeper than every river)
Realize this is meant to be
That's what your eyes they say to me
You are listening to how I feel
So expectedly
(Brighter than every morning)
From the ocean to the sky
(Beautiful as the sunset)
Every river to the sea
Nature surrounds me constantly
We can hear love constantly
This is for you and me
Turn around and come deeper now
So what happens when I touch you there
You feel the words roll over you
Thinking of the better scenes
The memories
As everybody else just
Hasn't got the time
To help you anymore
'Cause if the reason for
The things that pleasure us
To please ourselves
Not pressure us
To give our ego
Some pleasure time
Can you imagine
Any reason
To know you're only fooling yourself
And then you'll unders
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Presence Of
AndersonHoweSquireWhite
September 11, 2001
Deeper than every ocean
Deeper than every river
That's what your presence brings to me
Revealing the words I listen
Seeing you in my silence
Learning I'm with you constantly
As I was before
If we were flowers
We would worship the sun
So why not now?
This high is shining brightly
Brighter than before
As the door was open wide
There inside was a diamond chair
Where I sat when I was young
I wrote down the words
Only when the young at heart
Can enter the real world
This chance I've waited for
For you to see
If I had chances I would spend them with you
To hold you close and let your love surround me
Deeper than before
(Deeper than every ocean)
And I know this love is real
(Deeper than every river)
Realize this is meant to be
That's what your eyes they say to me
You are listening to how I feel
So expectedly
(Brighter than every morning)
From the ocean to the sky
(Beautiful as the sunset)
Every river to the sea
Nature surrounds me constantly
We can hear love constantly
This is for you and me
Turn around and come deeper now
So what happens when I touch you there
You feel the words roll over you
Thinking of the better scenes
The memories
As everybody else just
Hasn't got the time
To help you anymore
'Cause if the reason for
The things that pleasure us
To please ourselves
Not pressure us
To give our ego
Some pleasure time
Can you imagine
Any reason
To know you're only fooling yourself
And then you'll unders
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our last Swim (R.I.P. Anne Mary Simon)
Our last Swim
By Renee’
For my beloved Anne Mary Simon
An Image of you in a cloud rolls by
The sky opens up, somewhere in my mind
A vision of you in a pale blue dress
Tears falling down, you took my breath
Memories of you...
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
The time is near, the time is nigh
To answer the call, to answer the cry
My head still spins, my body aches
The wind stings my eyes, my face
I look around, no one’s there
Will anybody notice, will anyone care...
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
I sit on this beach, your beach
I see the waves roll in endlessly
I hold you tight against my bosom
Tears fill my eyes as I see you running into the ocean
You are laughing and so happy
Memories of you...
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
It’s time to take our final swim
My eyes fill with tears
I can’t move, but I must
You are waiting for me
My legs ache, my body is frozen
You are calling me, “come swim Renee’ “
Memories of you…
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
I feel the warm ocean lapping at my feet
I slowly walk deeper, and deeper
Still holding you so tight
“Please don’t leave me! ”
I desperately cry
Stay with me a while longer
Don’t leave me yet
I am holding you so tight
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
I feel you touch my face
I feel your loving embrace
I see your warm smile
“Please Anne, stay a while”
I see the last glitter of your eyes
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
Opening the urn, I see you leap and dive
I see you swimming around me
Why are you so pale and grey?
Then the reality strikes deep into my heart
This is our last swim together
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
Why are you smiling?
Why are so happy?
Why do you want to leave me so quickly?
Why? Why? Why?
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
Walking from the water
I turn to look for you
I catch a glimpse of you
You look so happy my love
Then my heart skips a beat
I see you wave then turn away
Swimming and having fun
Memories of you…
Rain will always hide these tears in my eyes
When the thunder laughs my soul will die
Will I hear your voice?
Will I touch your skin?
Will the ocean waves let me in?
Sitting on the beach
Watching the ocean
Knowing that you’ll always be happy now
I will visit you soon my beloved Anne
Soon we’ll swim together again
Rest in Peace my sweet love
Rest in Peace
poem by Renee' Stretch
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Medium
Medium, medium.
Waking up I smell the scent of coffee on the brew,
And I think about the amount of the sweet,
Id like to have in my cup today.
One for the two lump, three lump, four.
No half of one, no less no more.
Just give me a chance, let me make it mine.
Id like a medium blend of that piece of pie.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Dinner time just rolls around,
And I think I crave a steak but,
Im not too partial to the meat,
When its cooked too long and Im made to wait.
Not too much of the parsony,
And just enough of the spice.
I think Id enjoy a medium-rare dish with a side of fries.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. just a medium. medium.
? ? ? and I smell the pits but ? ? ? ? ? .
I couldve sworn a ? ? ? last week and scrubbed like ? ? ? .
I like to stink just a little bit,
Just to keep you on your toes yes.
The more I stink the more I think,
That you smell like a rose.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. medium. medium.
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Promised to Be Kept To Keep
Secrets...
That are kept,
Are secrets...
That may be wept.
To leave one with nights,
Unslept without rest.
Although promised to be kept to keep.
And secrets...
Left,
In a protectiveness...
Never regretted to forget,
Are kept secrets...
Wept.
One wishes to have ever met.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dead Starfish
washed up
on the beach
high tide’s brief wasting
a minute more, a minute less
the beach holds
sand secrets
to take or to give
back and forth we go
but time does not wait
as the last wave recedes
the next plunges forth
and wipes the slate
pebble and foam completely
clean.
(Previously published in The Oracular Tree, June 2003)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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Shell in the Beach
a mother tells a story to her son
'there are three men
one of them went to the beach
and found a beautiful shell in the beach
then he showed it to another man
a beautiful shell he discovered
the last one heard from others
that there's beautiful shell in the beach.'
the mother looks to her son then smiles
'now my child,
from three of them
which one who really knows
the beauty of the shell in the beach? '
from C.M.B.
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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It has been said that we have not had the three R's in America, we had the six R's remedial readin', remedial 'ritin' and remedial 'rithmetic.
quote by Robert Hutchins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shell on the shelf near my bed
Shell on the shelf near my bed
Take me back to memories box
Last summer on Virgin Island beach
Alone fighting words creating poem
She walks near me without sound
Holding shell in her hands
She comes forward to me
Look at me and smile
Long black hair like water fall
Beauty of Virgin Island
She put the shell on my ear
Sound of waves touching my soul
Hold her hand and start walking
Hand on hand, banded shadows
We walk long way
Ah memories
On other side of bed she lays beside me
Body on body, banded souls
Shell on the shelf near my bed
Take me back to memories box
Last summer on Virgin Island beach
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Memories Of The Beach
We went to the beach to get wind in our hair
to stand on the sand and simply to stare.
To let the surf tickle toes and dampen our clothes
as we played 'run away'
from the wavelets at play.
We went to the beach to climb on the rocks
find cool shallow pools where we'd take of our socks,
and peer in the waters to see what we might find
that the waves of the sea,
had last left behind.
We went to the beach to find coloured shells
the kind that when placed to our ears
make the sound of the ocean appear,
and gathered rocks that we never would find
in the places we walked,
for most of the time.
We went to the beach and all that, we did find
and the smell of the salt refreshed our tired minds.
I'll never forget the laughter and sounds
and the freedom to run,
on that wet sandy ground.
We went to the beach my family and I
and there we were one,
with the ocean, the beach, and the sky.
poem by David Taylor
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The Mysterious Unknown
Ten feet under deep blue water
Voices call out to me
Only to my surprise
They fade as I go deeper
I look at my life at the ocean's floor
As if it were trying to push me to my own limit
My closed eyes slowly waking to what I have done
Realizing I need to correct the mistakes I made
Reaching the ocean floor
All my strength has pushed me away
From the fate I was trying to ignore
Five feet underwater now
As I swim to the surface
Every lie and ounce of pain haunt my memories
I caused them to happen to me
My life will turn away from the mysterious unknown
For the final time
poem by Sarah Bruun
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Hard contact lenses
With my feet lifted
I hang out of balance
while someone skilful observes my eyes
and a bright painful light
shines into the depths of my eyes
seeing where the focus of my own cornea disappears,
measuring the deflection in my eyes,
seeing why and where my sight languishes away
and it’s like a rainbow
that deeper into my eye,
only still deeper wants to notch and spy
with rays in a wide circled bow
and when his eye later peeps at me,
he says look there
and let me look at another place
where he now feeds letters to my eyes
and with hard contact lenses I see like a falcon
but those things scratch, itch and pierce like a beam
there are furrows betraying the age of his face
and his teeth look like white lime,
my own freckles jumps out
and I forthright say to him
how much the lenses are bothering me
that there and then I want to throw them away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pebble Justice
he picks up a pebble
and throws it into the sea
from a cliff
he asks: this is not a place
for pebbles
so this is not a pebble
i will return it to the sea
and be with the sands
and shells and
waves and winds
and seaweeds
and crabs
does he not wonder at all
if he has the power to decide where a pebble must be?
sometimes people assume so much
behaving like a god
must he think a little deeper and realize
that what is proper for the people is not proper for a pebble
that pebbles too have minds of their own
and who know if the same pebble to thinks
that the cliff is not the place of man
assuming to be its own god?
must he be considerate enough that pebbles too have
their own invisible feet
and well developed brains
and that when the man throws it into the sea
on the ground only of
impropriety
that the pebble may have objected it vehemently and could have
used its own hidden powers
but only that it did not show it
by reason of pity that this man
is so dumb
and so limited
in the flesh of its
own selfish
understanding?
does he not know that a pebble too demands respect
have privacy
and soon shall take its
inevitable revenge?
'bury mankind! they have thrown us away
without our consent' that is their clamor now
in their own
Pebble Court using their Pebble law
to be judged later
by their Pebble Magistrates.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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