Head, Perhaps Of An Angel
limestone, with traces of polychromy, c. 1250
Point Dume was the point,
he said, but we never came close,
no matter how far we walked the shale
broken from California.
Someone's garden
had slipped, hanging itself by a vine
from the cliffs of some new Babylon
past Malibu.
Drowning the words,
the wind didn't fling back in our faces,
the Pacific washed up a shell:
around an alabastron
of salt water for the dead,
seaweed rustled its papers, drying them out,
until it died. Waves kept crashing
into the heart
of each shell
I held to my ear like a phone,
but they were just the waves of my blood.
And through it all
I heard him say,
how could it be nine months ago
his grandson had taken his own life,
somewhere back east?
He was fifteen.
O Pacific, what good is our grief?
Something screamed at the sandy child
who poured seawater
into a hole.
Child, you'll never empty the ocean,
Augustine said. How can I believe?
The wet fist of a wave
dissolved in sand.
Like a saint, a seagull flapped down the beach
in search of something raw—an angel
with an empty pail?
No, a teenage boy,
hands big as a man's, held a sea slug
quaking like an aspic. Under a rock, another
drew into its body
a creature
larger than itself. Live, said Death,
to child and childless alike, indifferently.
I am coming.
poem by Debora Greger
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Related quotes
The Death Penalty
Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.
Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.
Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.
Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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Drowning Away From Your Tears
I stare at you while you were sitting on top of the rock
looking back and forth between the ocean breeze and you
one glance at you a pang of tearing in my heart makes me
want to crawl towards you and comfort you
tears flow with the crashing waves of the ocean
I take shelter, protecting you, afraid you might get lost in the waves
holding you tight and close the tears kept pouring
just sitting on top of the rock with you I cry
I screamed at you; to make you understand that the ocean waves
isn't going to calm down unless you stop crying; shivering so much
the wind just kept blowing making us cold, our dripping wet clothes
gave us nothing but less comfort in the breeze
you cry again, I stare you and wondered what is making the rain pour from your eyes
the only thing I could do is sit there and hear you cry
the only comfort I could give is a hug and asking you whats wrong
as guilty as I feel I do nothing but lead you into the ocean
walking gently on the soft, wet sand I hold your hands
and walked in the ocean as if we were entering another world
discovering a new place to live; we thought if we could just walk in the ocean a new world presents
I let go of your hands and I walked away into the ocean and left you there
crying on the rock, I tried walking back but it was to late
I felt guilty just leaving you there on the rock crying by yourself
for others to easily attack you; I failed to protect you
my plan to let you enter with to another world
but nothing is accomplished, the tears you cry only brought me deeper
into the ocean not only once did I drowned, I drowned because I had
fears I was no use.....♥
poem by Alecia Nak
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Santa Monica Mountains..Kanan Dume
Santa Monica Mountains....Kanan Dume
There...in the distance...and one day soon
.......I'll be on the beach....at Malibu
......High....in the hills......of Pepperdine
I gaze.....at the sea...the world is mine
....The beach........at Malibu
Wade in the surf......of the crescent bay
...Watch the sun say...goodnight....to day
On the beach...........at Malibu...
When last...I've traveled...old Kanan Dume
.....Strolled.....in the light....of my...last moon
On the beach......at Malibu...
Set...the ashes...of my existence......free
......To live........throughout.....eternity
There..... .....on the beach.......at Malibu
poem by James B. Earley
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On Seeing You...
On Seeing You...
The body that so far felt
Like a hollow shell
Thrown on the beach
By a vagrant child
The body that so far felt
Like an empty piece of severed bamboo
Fallen on an untread forest path
No longer felt hollow or empty
The shell vibrated with the roar of the sea
The bamboo set ripples of mystic music on the waves
Strangely enough, even the half-moon
Sprayed brightness on the dark niches
Your joy resonated in my heart
Sealing all the crevices and pushed the body
Towards the one loved…
Ah, the stuff dreams are made of
13 May 2011
Evening
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Strange Day
Give me your eyes
That i might see the blind man kissing my hands
The sun is humming
My head turns to dust as he plays on his knees
As he plays on his knees
And the sand
And the sea grows
I close my eyes
Move slowly through drowning waves
Going away on a strange day
And i laugh as i drift in the wind
Blind
Dancing on a beach of stone
Cherish the faces as they wait for the end
Sudden hush across the water
And we're here again
And the sand
And the sea grows
I close my eyes
Move slowly through drowning waves
Going away
On a strange day
My head falls back
And the walls crash down
And the sky
And the impossible
Explode
Held for one moment i remember a song
An impression of sound
Then everything is gone
Forever
A strange day
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An aside on the Vedanta Paribhasha of Dharmaraja Adhvarindra
A child with shining eyes,
eyes as alert as any wild creature
guarding its life; free as a human child
who’s loved and watched for,
walks along the beach. In the morning sun
shells, newly washed by the receding tide,
sparkle in the morning sun.
A distant sparkle, noted among many,
continues to sparkle. Bend down and pick it up,
sandy, a dropp of water held in perfect curve;
is it a shell, nacreous in many shades
as it’s lifted to the light, beautiful as if
the Creator had made it only at the dawn today?
or is it a silver dish from that liner that went down,
shaped as a shell, stamped SS Perpetua?
And is it silver-plated from the lower deck,
or solid silver from the first-class deck?
What does the child care? Seeing with
a child’s pure eye, that shell’s more beautiful –
-tells more about the world – than any silversmith
could make?
Carrying whatever it is, the child returns to home;
shining eyes remind the parents of that time
when all the world spoke truth made visible
that knowledge, consciousness, and bliss
are what truth tells, and lives, and is.
*
[With smiling respect to Dr Kuntimaddi Sadananda,
who is conducting a learned disquisition on this text
on the internet..]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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At The Water's Edge
At the water’s edge, I stop and stand for a while.
Lost in thought, my face wears a hint of a smile.
Chalky cliffs are covered with a white, misty veil;
To spot them, in the distance, you could almost fail.
Across the sea’s surface, waves restlessly roam;
They break, and create lots of thick, frothy foam.
The water laps against the shore in a wavy line;
The lines of land and sea, are difficult to define.
My toes sink deep into the dark, sodden sand,
At the very point, where the sea meets the land.
The sand is peppered with pebbles and sea shells.
Nearby, I hear a child’s excited squeals and yells.
I scoop up a handful of water: it’s as cold as ice;
It sparkles in the sunlight, which looks rather nice.
Salty seawater rains down from my frozen fingers;
Suspended in mid air, for a split second, it lingers.
Under the sultry sun, the sea glimmers and glistens.
To the seagulls’ rowdy, raucous cries, I love to listen.
Being barefooted by the water’s edge is so very tactile;
The joy experienced is the same for both man and child.
Looking back up the beach, I spy the silken sand dunes;
When walked upon, the sands sing, and play little tunes.
I love being by the sea; I love the sights and the sounds;
Being by the sea, is one of the best ever feelings around.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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.'
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.'
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.'
Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Venus
cell
moss
fish arising from a
broken shell
less the whiskers
of the cat
a she-goat
rising from the foams
a woman
water body
daisies on your hair
naked
dried by the wind
floating in the sea
the waves take you
to me
i am a lesser god
that you love
i wait
for the making
we shall lie on the sand
to the grass
we are sunflowers
in the sun
and then we wilt
back to earth
in utter silence
of two empty
shells
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Castle In The Sand
I held on tightly to my child
Tightly i held on
The waves were crashing overhead
But still i did hold on.
The waters drove us up the street
Past where friends and i would meet
Dashing down their houses
And leaving not much there
But i held yes i held on
And on my lips there was a prayer
That these torrents would not make me weak
That somehow i would find
Some calm some peace some easiness
And the earthquake left behind
I held on god i held on
To that tender little hand
She was now my sole ambition
And my castle in the sand.
I caught my breath
A hundred times
A hundred times or more
All that i was grasping was
Her clothes and nothing more.
poem by David Keig
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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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Truth Everlasting
ocean waves beating up against the beach
the cool water against my feet
faces in the rocks looking up to the sky
the ocean waves reaching forever high.
the seagulls flying in to land on the sand
as i reached over with my hand.
gently touching his soft white back
my mind racing faster-never letting up the slack
the reflections of times gone by
when life was young and not full of lies.
the only thing that ever seemed the same
was some faces and some names.
faces and names of a past gone by
as i looked up towards the sky.
trying to figure why the rock faces looked up
and what they could possibly see
as it all seemed very naked to me
when a thought came into my mind
as the ocean reflected off the sky.
the faces were looking up to see
god looking down unhappily.
of him seeing all of his creations
being all torn down.
of human life laying on the ground.
unhappiness all around and not one voice to be found
to tell the world of its mistakes and the lies we live are all fakes.
and now i see what is to be-his truth everlasting.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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Cry Of The Lonely...
i have heard the cry of the lonely,
the tree bent with grief for the ocean.
the squirrel who dreams of wings,
the mountain melting with need to wander.
the child orphaned by war or poverty,
the monk on fire for a world that's blind...
the beaten body in the prison cell,
the door opened, no one there.
the naked body weeping on an empty bed,
the voice calling without echo.
the tongue that walks the rainy night...
the moon hidden by clouds cold and distant.
the lonesome sound of the faraway train,
the lover who walks the garden...
the empty streets, the hollowed houses,
where not even the scent of memory lingers.
the bruised hand stuck in the pocket,
the letter never addressed.
the flower that bloomed, and no one saw,
the bent nail on the back of the shed....
the candle snuffed.... the last words lost...
lips swollen, set, and driven...
am i the cry, or just the shell,
that brushes against your heart without name?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Perhaps The Cat!
he rose from the coffin,
shook himself, and walked,
out the door, out of sight.
the body he left behind,
nothing but an empty shell!
the mourners wept for the body.
who sings the song of
the spirit set free?
who sees with his eyes?
who knows his heart?
perhaps the blind man
at the piano...
perhaps the cat that followed
his steps, in search of food!
perhaps the wind that
closed the door behind...
perhaps the ones who really loved,
or the child waving at the window!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Wondered What Was Next
So I wondered what was next
As I said good night
I wondered what was next
As I said good night
With head bowed and soul I prayed
These words I said
Please, send the Angels
To guard this, little sleepy head
And as I watched, I sung
Go to sleep, go to sleep
Close those little bright blue eyes
Night-time is coming
The sun is on the far side
Angels are watching
Our vigil to keep
While the Sandman is filling your eyes
It's time for you sleep
Hush-a-bye-baby
Hush-a-bye-sweet
Play time is over for your
Tiny little feet
Close your eyes, baby
Close your eyes, honey
Sleey-time's here
Good night little darling
Good night little dear
As I sung this song
I wondered what would be next
What God has done to my soul?
Because of this child, I confess
I held my daughter's child
while she fell to sleep
And it was there that I started to think
About the stories of my life, the constant agony
There had just been so dang many
The unending strife's
And just like that the tears again,
Came my way
I fought against torrential rains
As I held this child
That has caused love in my life
I fought against my memories of strife
As I struggled trying end my cares
I attemped again to find peace
But where?
A thought passed through my mind
It came almost like a nursery rhyme.
Oh hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
Look what you've become
The man that loves,
My little ones
And as I sat wondering
Where those words had Just came from?
I heard again
So hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
Look what you've become
The man that loves everyone
The man that sin can no longer
over run
So I spoke my question
With voice aloud
How can this be?
Hush-a-bye child
Hush-a-bye child
I can see
Hush-a-bye child
Leave the pains of the past
For me
For I have opened the windows
Of Heaven for thee
And poured out this blessing
With-out room enough to recieve
So (hush-a-bye child)
(Hush-a-bye child)
It's time for you to sleep
For even now I Am,
I Am
Baby tending with thee
poem by Clyde Bryson
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