Sea-Shells
I gathered shells upon the sand,
Each shell a little perfect thing,
So frail, yet potent to withstand
The mountain-waves' wild buffeting.
Through storms no ship could dare to brave
The little shells float lightly, save
All that they might have lost of fine
Shape and soft colour crystalline.
Yet I amid the world's wild surge
Doubt if my soul can face the strife,
The waves of circumstance that urge
That slight ship on the rocks of life.
O soul, be brave, for He who saves
The frail shell in the giant waves,
Will bring thy puny bark to land
Safe in the hollow of His hand.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Parable
BETWEEN the sandhills and the sea
A narrow strip of silver sand,
Whereon a little maid doth stand,
Who picks up shells continually
Between the sandhills and the sea.
Far as her wondering eyes can reach
A Vastness, heaving grey in grey
To the frayed edges where the day
Furls his red standard on the breach,
Between the skyline and the beach.
The waters of the flowing tide
Cast up the seapink shells and weed;
She toys with shells, and doth not heed
The ocean, which on every side
Is closing round her vast and wide.
It creeps her way as if in play,
Pink shells at her pink feet to cast;
But now the wild waves hold her fast,
And bear her off and melt away
A Vastness heaving gray in gray.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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A Duet
'FLOWERS nodding gaily, scent in air,
Flowers posied, flowers for the hair,
Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare----'
'O pick me some!'
'Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum,
Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper Come,
Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb----'
'O let me hear.'
'Eyes so black they draw one trembling near,
Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear,
Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear----'
'O look at me!'
'Kisses sadly blown across the sea,
Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free,
Bob-a-cherry kisses 'neath a tree----'
'O give me one!'
Thus sand a king and queen in Babylon.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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Sea-Shell Shope
She sells those sea shells
Along the sea shore
Cheaper than the sea shells
At the sea-shell store.
It's a shop-keeping nation
In a shop-keeping world.
Shopkeeper, Shopkeeper
What will you do
When all of your neighbors
Are shopkeepers too?
poem by Adeline Foster
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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
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Shells
Reaching down arm-deep into bright water
I gathered on white sand under waves
Shells, drifted up on beaches where I alone
Inhabit a finite world of years and days.
I reached my arm down a myriad years
To gather treasure from the yester-milliennial sea-floor,
Held in my fingers forms shaped on the day of creation.
Building their beauty in three dimensions
Over which the world recedes away from us,
And in the fourth, that takes away ourselves
From moment to moment and from year to year
From first to last they remain in their continuous present.
The helix revolves like a timeless thought,
Instantaneous from apex to rim
Like a dance whose figure is limpet or murex,
cowrie or golden winkle.
They sleep on the ocean floor like humming-tops
Whose music is the mother-of-pearl octave of the rainbow,
Harmonious shells that whisper forever in our ears,
The world that you inhabit has not yet been created.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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The tortoise is friends with the snail: those with shells keep their shells close together.
To whom do you offer your shells for sale? To people who come from Saint Michel (where shells abound).
Sea Child
Sea child
Go swim in the sea here at home
Because it is very hot outside
And the only way for you to cool down
Is to swim in the lake
But the water is not hot in the sea
Because it is nice and cold
Sea child
Why don't you start a collection of sea shells?
And what you will need to start a collection of sea shell
Is to pick up the sea shells outside the sea here at home
Also the seashells are made of any marine mollusk
poem by Aldo Kraas
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She did not talk to people as if they were strange hard shells she had to crack open to get inside. She talked as if she were already in the shell. In their very shell.
quote by Marita Bonner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drive You Home
It's funny how
Even now
You still support me after all the things that I've done
You're so good to me
Waiting patiently
And isn't it sad that you still have to ask if I care
I never said I was perfect
But I can take you away
Walk on shells tonight
Can't do right tonight
And you can't say the word cause I leap down your throat
So uptight am I
I never said I was perfect
But I can drive you home
I got down on myself
Working too hard
Driving myself to death
Trying to beat up the faults in my head
What a mess I've made
Sure we all make mistakes
But they see me so large
That they think I'm immune to the pain
Walk on shells tonight
Can't do right tonight
And you can't say the word cause I leap down your throat
So uptight am I
I'm praying for a miracle
But I won't hold my breath
I never said I was perfect
But can you take me home
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Night On The Beach
A breeze from the ocean
Cools the beach
The stars up above
Seem just out of reach
Waves are softly lapping
Up on the sand
Lovers are walking
Hand in hand
A falling star blazes
Across the sky
It burns so brightly
And silently dies
While out on the ocean
A ship’s light shines
Sailing out to sea
Home port far behind
The tides are rising
In the night
But will be gone
By morning light
Covering the sand
With seaweed and shells
Filling the air
With tidewater smells
Like backward salmon
We go to the sea
Seeking fun or peace
Or tranquility
Or maybe a way
To re-start our life
Walking along on
The beach at night
July 4,2000
poem by James Frady
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Sea Poppies
Amber husk
fluted with gold,
fruit on the sand
marked with a rich grain,
treasure
spilled near the shrub-pines
to bleach on the boulders:
your stalk has caught root
among wet pebbles
and drift flung by the sea
and grated shells
and split conch-shells.
Beautiful, wide-spread,
fire upon leaf,
what meadow yields
so fragrant a leaf
as your bright leaf?
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Breathing of the Ocean
you exhale
then inhale-sucking up your sins and
regrets from your life
washing away the pain you neglected
the shells left on shore are your only
memory of everything
the sand-your companion is always there
for you but never forgets
your insanity when your anger floods
out onto the dunes and rocks
your breathing is no simple matter
the Sun and Gravity controlling
your every move just as an officer
to a prisoner
but you keep forgetting to forget what
you have done and just live
Leave the shells on shore
they are your only memory
poem by Zia Jaycee May Trent
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Beached Morning
Steel grey above;
We tripped the silver beach
At some crisp, splintered morning
Traced beyond our line of reach,
We breathed the fluted air as if
In some remembrance
Of dreams once dreamed, let slip and tossed
Beyond deliverance.
And rivulets of cold did etch
Stark patterns in the sand,
While silence tugged at rock and pool
To spill their contraband;
I stole for you a morning shell
That caught the coloured sun,
But dreams and shells once dreamt and thieved
Mist over, every one.
The sea will lap the sandbar
The sand catch at the foot,
While we, so lost in wonder
Are as children, waking up.
The dream we live is lonely,
The plans we build – like sand,
The shell sparks at the sunlight
And I reach for your hand.
29 April 1986
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Shells
Where the long waves put cool, caressing hands
Upon the fevered temples of the shore,
And with their eager lips are telling o’er
Their strange, unspoken secrets to the sands,
Along the shining rim of cape and cove
The shells in fair, unplanned mosaic lie;
And there the children, keen of heart and eye,
Gather their harvest in of treasure-trove.
Yet this is one of ocean’s mysteries—
That, while the humbler shells the breakers brave,
The fairest are most fragile, and the wave,
Ruthless, has crushed and mutilated these!
Ah, sea of life, we, too, like children, stand
Through youth and age, expectant, at thy rim,
To pray for golden argosies from Him
Who holds thee in the hollow of His hand.
Capricious tides delude us, veer and turn,
And flash our dreams to view, again to hide;
A moment on the breaker’s crest they ride,
The while we watch, their destiny to learn.
Poor, fragile dreams! Our humbler hopes befall;
But crushed and shattered, tempest-tossed and torn,
These come to shore, the dreams of youthful morn—
Most fair, most frail, and best beloved of all!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1897)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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A New Day
Come quick. Give me your hand.
Let us go walking on the white sand.
We must go early before the sun's high
for then comes the time when our feet will fry.
We can find shells and smooth sea-glass
after the waves wash up, then pass.
All of our cares we will leave behind,
nothing but sand and sun on our mind.
And if we are quick there just may be
dolphins swimming in the open sea.
If we don't dawdle we'll wet our toes
to enjoy the day as the sun glows.
The sparkle of sand like crystals aglow
makes your heart quicken and then you'll know
that all of your cares have faded away
'cause you took my hand to face the new day.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Barnacles
My soul is sailing through the sea,
But the Past is heavy and hindereth me.
The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells
That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells
About my soul.
The huge waves wash, the high waves roll,
Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole
And hindereth me from sailing!
Old Past let go, and drop i' the sea
Till fathomless waters cover thee!
For I am living but thou art dead;
Thou drawest back, I strive ahead
The Day to find.
Thy shells unbind! Night comes behind,
I needs must hurry with the wind
And trim me best for sailing.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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In fact, we started off with two or three different shells and the shell had life of its own.
quote by Ken Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Art Of Rejection
There is an Art to 'rejection'
First they 'hook you in'
With tales of love and words of 'I love you'
The sugary sweet pill of flattery
Of making coral shine from broken shells
Knowing all to well
Such fragile beauty
Could not bear the lightening breakers
Mountain storms
Until tempest tossed
You lie on stony shores
Bone on bone
salt ravished flesh
Your dry lung cannot breath without the 'other'
There is an 'Art to rejection'
First they hook you in
with soft bait
And looks that catches your approval
Knowing your fragile beauty
Cannot withstand
The windswept mouth of deserts
The hundred clasping hands and tiny mouths
That drink you dry
Until
Bone on bone you lie
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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