As The Day Was Passing
The waves lapped gently to the shore
as a flotilla of sailboats rested
in corridors on the water
with their white sails stained crimson
by the setting sun
an evocative silence cloaked each and every one
as they nudged against their mooring
to each gentle wave that passed by.
A tourniquet of lovers
stood watching by the shore
as the day was passing
to be with us no more.
13 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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On The Bay
I walked beside a bay
taking in everything I saw,
several small boats
nudged at their mooring
with every incoming wave.
Ducks swam around
with their young in tow
watched on by some geese
who had stopped for a break there.
The sun spread a long finger
across every wave
as they rolled slowly to the shore.
As a sense of peace
hung over everything
on the bay.
11 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Men, the waves
The sea waves meet the shore.
The waves ebb; the shore stays ashore.
He, the wave, meets her, the shore.
The waves carry the carcass of the tryst.
The shore buries the debris of the tryst.
Man sticks to the past, woman to the future.
13.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Enchant
The waves roll up the shore
across a sandy beach
as couples watch the waters
weave in between their toes.
The moonlight bathes them
as they walk along the shore.
The sun has rested its head
within a glowing sunset
that fired up the evening sky
leaving the moon to enchant
the lovers as they walked by
along the sandy shore,
leaving only their footprints
to be washed away for ever more.
20 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Wave after Wave
From his water home, miles over miles then
Meeting his dove, cooing and wooing and
Cradling her in his arms, then breaking -up ashore.
The very next day, though different, returning
with silver wave, they
Roll and ripple, rollicking to tomb
But…
Never same one, wave after wave
returns again and again…doesn't hold on,
just gives wind tighter grip on sea;
beauty and motion to the ocean;
kisses the shore
laps the rock
peace to humankind!
By
Almedia Knight-Oliver
October 22,2011
Poetess feeling watery…though life's waves provides
us options: ride the waves as a lovers, or drown in them….
or some things are "in the lap of god"
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The Man Parts the Water
The man parts the water with a simple stone,
turning when the laughter
of a child retraces the shattered waves.
The man remembers with a smile
the days when he walked the shore,
dancing with silver-eyed seagulls, and he
was always looking ahead as he
stands and tilts releasing stone,
watching it sail through the misty shore.
The child parts the water with shrieking laughter,
and dreams about the day he will knowingly smile
as his cocked man-hand reaches the stormy waves.
Watching the moon pull the scornful waves
that kick the sand onto the shore, now he’s
the ghost of a child that stands with a smile.
He parts the water with a simple stone,
listening to the moon’s blue shaken laughter
at a man awaiting his golden hour upon the murky shore.
The grains whisper into the wind. And the shore
is crowded with memories of waves,
filling a young boy’s face with laughter.
It permeates the darkness, yet he
still craves the stone
to bring the man’s euphoric smile.
Caught in a moment without laughter or smiles,
walking along the shore
he wishes upon a simple stone
for another chance to play and frolic in waves.
The child sees his reflection with an anxious smile, and he
becomes a man between the laughter.
And he will always remember the laughter,
and he will always long for an innocent smile
of waiting for the day that unknowingly he
could never return to the shore.
Churning as it breaks the waves,
the past is left in simple stone.
But for now there is laughter upon the shore,
riding along the whispering waves,
the child’s future still a simple stone.
(- for Nicolas Mathew)
poem by Matt Ullman
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Lovers On A Beach
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two naked hands lay on the sand
When all the world was out of reach
Through the shuttered doors
The music filtered through
Playing on a theme that couldnt run
Lovers on a shore
Lovers on a shore
The heavy wine of broken time
But now theyre gone its nothing more
Looking back on days
When summer seemed so long
Now theres only winter nights to come
And oh - sometimes shes missing you
She hears the shore
She feels it more
And out there the waves are breaking
Back here her heart is aching
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two silhouettes were on a shore
But now theyre lost and out of reach
Now on lonely roads
The flashbacks lead to you
Like a faded photograph in time
Oh lovers (lovers, lovers, lovers, lovers...)
And oh just as shes missing you
She hears the shore
She feels it more
And out there the waves are breaking
Back here her heart is aching
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two naked hands theyre on the sand
When all the world was out of reach
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Lovers
Lovers
Lovers on a beach
Lovers
Lovers
Lovers
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Song
The moon stretched a long finger
across the calm waters
as they rolled to the shore.
The stars danced on each wave
filling the night with romance.
Couples walked hand in hand
along the sandy shore.
Love twinkled in their eyes
as they left their footprints in the sand.
The nocturnal calls created a rhythm in the air
once the sun had bid its goodbye.
The footprints stopped occasionally
as the lovers arms curled around one another
to capture a nights kiss of bliss
as they stood on the sandy shore,
then moved along enjoying
the romantic night song.
20-21 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author2
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Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author
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Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curling Waters
The tide rolls in on curling waters,
then stretches its fingers to touch the shore.
It hisses as each wave breaks
and its white waters pound against
the sands and rolling stones.
We can sit for hours watching
its endless race
to see which finger
can go farthest up the shore.
Its waters then retreat
as a new wave takes its place.
25 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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In The Moonlight
In The Moonlight
With fingers entangled in each other’s hand,
we walk together along the golden sand.
The rolling waves hiss a melody
that we can only hear
like our lover’s soft words
just whispering in our ear.
The moonlight dances across the waves
that roll endlessly to the shore.
We stop for a moment
to listen to our passion’s call.
Enveloping our arms around one another
in the stillness of the night.
Two lovers in the moonlight,
a forever memory to both
as they grow older and greyer.
Both will remember how
they stood on the moonlight shore
embraced within the passions
of two lovers in the moonlight.
18 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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A Knight At The Seashore
the knight came from the enchanted forest
onto the shore, came the galloping horse
with a handsome knight still unknowing
could this be the sparkling castle?
the castle of the most famous king
the seabreeze was welcoming
with the waves so gentle
the horse slowly went onward
watching the seagulls fly overhead
out to sea, in the distant horizon
the sun was lower, as if going for a dive
with light playing in the water
the knight saw only a fair maiden
in the far distance, walking alone on the shore
poem by Rachel Nichols
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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
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Shore bird's reverie
Resigned to the march of nature,
Heedless to the spray
From the steaming wave,
A shore bird roosts brood
On the shore
Rolled by the sand shifting
As the tide shifts:
Some day this planet too,
The earth crust shifting
As universe turns side,
Like wealth and fame
To nothingness sinks.
Pines he not after his wings
Stained by tides
Or his passing original form,
So sunk is he in his only thirst
To drink creation whole,
Casting self out, to become
One with life.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
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Idyllic
My love waits for me
on a distant shore
where palm trees grow
and gentle warms winds blow.
Where golden sands stretch
for as far as the eyes can see
and the crystal blue waters
roll to the shore lazily.
Where the large golden eye
looks down from the sky
and life moves at a slower pace
as time slips silently by.
Away from the maddening crowd,
my life’s treasure awaits for my returning
to our home once more
when my roving days are through.
2 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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Speech Of Gold!
If silence is to silence
the beautiful song of a day,
I prefer not that silence
I prefer a speech of gold
than a smoky silence
of a cloud of conflict;
or a wave cause only
troubles to a sea shore,
I prefer a word to transform
into a song for a day
and that day will break
the shells of silence
in one dawn of life.....
September 7,2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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In Memory of David Archer (LIV)
The words are always as
strange and dead as those
fragments and oddments that
the wave casts up on the shore:
I stand in the sea mist
gazing down at the white
words and old bits of wood
and wonder what they were for.
I think that they were not
ever intended to do
what, when we seek to speak,
we believe that they may:
they cannot bear us up
the frothy words and like
wings at the lame foot
lift us out of the clay.
For all the reflections
I call up out of the sea
(they seem to speak as the shell
seems to speak for the sea)
are no more truly here
than the wind weaving sand
into shapes of things
we think that we know and see.
When in the evening sky
a single star appears
over my head, and the moon
out of the cloud lifts its face,
when the white gull turns
or the high plover hovers
to tell me with a cry
I trespass in this place:
What I see, then, with
that cloud my witness is
not shapes of the mind or wind
like the slow rainbowings
of the dolphin's skin as it dies
but, as though from the cloud
I saw my bone walk the shore,
the theology of all things.
The white stones and the old
odd bits of sea blanched wood,
Overstrand and the swinging
lighthouse glimpsed in the mists,
they flash in the prisms and I
believe for a moment I see
the dazzling atoms dancing
in every thing that exists.
The children dance on the shore.
The waves dies on the sand.
The spray blows to and fro,
the children dance and die.
What waves are these that dance
with the children on the sand?
I hear them calling, but cannot
hear what it is that they cry.
I neither understand
nor know why I am moved
beyond these words by the
odd bits of bleached wood
cast up on Overstrand
or by the black and twisted
October evening tree
dying beside the road.
or by the child of midnight
so deep asleep but still
lost in the corridors
of the mansions of dust,
by any or by all
ceremonial evidence
attesting that we love
simply because we must.
I walk upon Overstrand shore
and the crab at my foot
inscribes praise in the sand.
The wave bursts with glory
because it rises up like
angels out of the sea,
and the dead starfish burns
on Overstrand promontory.
Why do I hear them cry
out from the far side of life,
those forms and impulses
unborn beyond the sky?
Why should they hope and seek
above all else to be?
Tonight on Overstrand
I know for one moment why.
poem by George Barker
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In The Foam.
Life swelleth in a whitening wave,
And dasheth thee and me apart.
I sweep out seaward: -- be thou brave.
And reach the shore, Sweetheart.
Beat back the backward-thrusting sea.
Thy weak white arm his blows may thwart,
Christ buffet the wild surge for thee
Till thou'rt ashore, Sweetheart.
Ah, now thy face grows dim apace,
And seems of yon white foam a part.
Canst hear me through the water-bass,
Cry: "To the Shore, Sweetheart?"
Now Christ thee soothe upon the Shore,
My lissome-armed sea-Britomart.
I sweep out seaward, never more
To find the Shore, Sweetheart.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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