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Drunk With The Bliss Of Your Kisses

Drunk with the bliss of your kisses
on a romantic summer evening,
rolling waves touch at our feet
while there is some tranquillity

as we walk along the long white beach,
I can taste the smell of salt on the air
while the sea continually breaks
in white spray over jutting rocks

one of your soft hands is in mine
with electricity in the touching
that is still lingering between us
before you step right into my arms

there is brightness to the moonlight,
far away the city sparkles like a crown
while your body, your humanity
slowly becomes part of mine.

poem by Gert Strydom
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I love you more each day

I love you more each day
I want your heart to stay
I need you near to me
Together we will be
We'll take a nice long walk
Together we will talk
We'll laugh and have some fun
The summer setting sun
We'll walk along the beach
Our hands entwined in each
The spray will cool us down
Will wash away your frown
I love you more each day
Each step along the way
Together we'll be fine
Your heart belongs to mine

poem by Bradley Lester
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When A Summer Day Begins

When a summer day begins,
with the faint dusty look
early in the morning,
that indicates a lovely hot sunny day

when in Cape Town you can smell,
can taste the salt in the air
and there is glassiness
where the ocean stretches out to the horizon.

Suddenly, maybe at times to you unaware,
your body remembers the joys of the beach,
the coolness, the power of the splashing waves
and something then draws you back to the sea.

Maybe it’s a kind of lingering memory,
of a day filled with fun,
a day previously spent under the summer sun,
when you were happy and free.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Fleeting Thought

As I walk upon the beach
I listen to the waves.
I like to hear them crash against the rocks
Time and time again.
I think of an army charging a stronghold
A legion of surging white knights,
Contemptuously charging a wall of granite-faced men,
Brown wind-cracked faces
Shields locked for battle
Death alone will break them.

Streaming white horsehair standards
Lifted over the crest of a ridge.
The sun’s level rays
Striking fire
On their spear points,
And their gleaming blue shields.
Instantly rises a full-throated war cry
The clash and grind of weapons of steel,
The hollow booming of war horns, the rolling thunder
Of shield meeting shield.
A dark mass checked but an instant, a moment’s indecision,
That seems without end.
But a moment’s indecision, before the charge smashes on
With shattering speed yet again.

Yet the defenders stand
Like an island of rock
Thrust at from all sides,
The tides ebb and flow.
While the waves of destruction roar in
Wave upon wave,
Then swiftly glide back like a shadow
Or a wild animal timing its spring,
Leaving ground open
Littered with wounded or dead.
Ground already fought over
To be recontested again,
As though both sides suddenly stopped, together
And drew breath to pause.

Instantly another legion springs forward
With uplifted spear,
Against a solid line of warriors that never breaks
Or crumbles in fear.
Till at last with a long heave
Combining together
The waves rise up
To pass over and engulf them.
Boiling white foam bubbles all around
While spray flies high in the air.

For a few seconds longer
I stand by to stare
Lost in my thoughts,
Not a sound can I hear.
The very essence of life is laden
Within the salt air
That I could reach out and touch if I wanted
As my lungs touch the air.
I become all that I see
As electricity is all,
Without which there are only static
Lifeless machines.
Yet if I tried to describe what I see
These words would I hear.
But it’s only the waves,
Crashing against the rocks.
Time and time again.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Mystic Sea

The smell of the sea in my nostrils,
The sound of the sea in mine ears;
The touch of the spray on my burning face,
Like the mist of reluctant tears.

The blue of the sky above me,
The green of the waves beneath;
The sun flashing down on a gray-white sail
Like a scimitar from its sheath.

And ever the breaking billows,
And ever the rocks' disdain;
And ever a thrill in mine inmost heart
That my reason cannot explain.

So I say to my heart, 'Be silent,
The mystery of time is here;
Death's way will be plain when we fathom the main,
And the secret of life be clear.'

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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On the beach

You wanted to go to the beach
at the Strand
and walk the dog,
which didn’t accompany us then
and feel the surf rolling in
touching your feet
with a wet kiss,

the wind blowing through your hair,
tugging at the auburn strings
and there was something in your eyes
as if you had captured the sky.

Some kites hang in a light breeze
frisking up and down
and the water was cold like always
with the beach stretching brown white,
almost endlessly.

You wanted to soak up the sun
like a goddess waiting
for her greatest admirer to appear
and we drank pineapple Fanta

while a superb smile
was on your face
and your perfect body
was smelling like coconuts
from the tanning lotion,

you became browner,
I turned red like an English European
and then burnt blisters on my shoulders
and yet, it was magic there

with people laughing, walking,
swimming everywhere
and still you and I
were on our own
with electricity running through
each touch and kiss
that I now truly miss.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Sun Over The Sea Died

Slowly the sun on the sea died away,
with sunset glowing over Table Bay,
in the distance at the end of day
did the Robben Island lie somewhat grey.

Waves rolled in breaking on the beach
while the island was away, out of reach,

in the evening stars were in the black sky,
while the full moon hang yellow and high
with glittering water catching the eye,
quickly did the romantic evening fly

and your soft tender hand were warm in mine
while our blooming love felt somewhat divine
and the day did very slowly decline
with lights on the sea drawing a straight line.

poem by Gert Strydom
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She is that sunshine.......

Walking on the beach, with a lazy style
she made it bend,
before i know, we covered that mile,
...'nd my heart was mend

There was a time, when i looked around
but it was all dark
zing in her eyes lit a candle light
made'em fade, the old scar

She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......

From my window, when i look outside
the grass is green and birds are white
now my door open to that beach
where waves come around to touch her feet
everything that glows is never out of reach...

She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
She is that sunshine.......

poem by Mohit Dhawan
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Running On The Beach

Early just after dawn
there is salt in the air,
a light wind pulls at my hair
while I race on the beach
clothed in only bathing trunks,
trying to outrun the incoming surf,
which at times splashes against my body.

I pass some big rocks
while the white sand of Clifton
clings to my feet and legs,
the air starts to burn in my lungs,
while I pick up the pace,
finding new energy under the summer sun,
with the sea only touching at my feet.

In the distance stark naked
two young women tan,
the one is lying on her stomach
the other is sitting up and facing me
and I notice that her stomach is flat,
her breasts are DD sized with nipples hard,
she says something to the other girl and is smiling.

I want to avoid them, keep to the solitude,
the freedom of racing at speed,
with the sun and the wind touching my body,
while all thoughts are stripped from me
but one of them have got other plans,
gets up and steps right into my way
with legs wide and eyes bluer than the sky.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Slow dancing

Your auburn hair flows
in a shining string
down your pearly white neck
and I smell the sweetness
of your warm breath
while I hold you
and we slow dance together.

There’s joy in your eyes
as we move slowly
and your body
is hot and soft against mine
and somehow I can feel
your heart beating
as if we are part
of each other.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Where The Land Meets The Ocean

The great white waves of the Pacific how loudly they do roar
And crash against the volcanic rocks that guard the ocean shore
The silver gulls above the beach are calling as they fly
And the terns dive in shallow waters for small sea things from the sky,
The feeling is so refreshing on your skin saltwater spray
'Tis nice to be by the ocean on a breezy Autumn day
In a place far off of the highway and far from the noisy street
A place where Nature reign Supreme where the land and ocean meet
The huge surf waves are rolling foamy and white as snow
At the awesome power of Nature my wonder only grow
Though not a seafaring person from land I love to watch the big waves roll
It has been a watery grave for many an ocean out of control
Where the land meets the ocean on a March evening in the Fall
A memory for to cherish and in the future to recall.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Aditi in a Dream at Wollongong (A Poem for My Daughter)

That evening jogging on the beach with my friends
miles and miles away from home i was alone
the sea was rolling and unrolling its carpet of blue and grey
with what was a milk-border of foam
rolling and unrolling it endlessly or so it seemed

a score of seagulls on the shore flapped their wings
starchwhite some picking morsels from the sand
jogging on the beach that evening miles and miles
away from home i ran into a dream

a little challenged girl in knickers and sportshirt
was carried by the waves to the shore
and as she stepped on the beach i held her hand
she walked with me her puny feet at every step
battling with the sand her head swayed sideward
with the breeze.

she clapped her hands now and then and broke
into an incoherent song seemingly happy walking the beach
i was happy too holding her hand that evening
jogging on the beach till the shout of friends behind
woke me up

alone in my room that night i felt disturbed
sleep was long in coming... waking up at morn
i learnt my TV had been on whole night!

poem by Sunil Uniyal
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Daybreak in Alabama

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.

poem by Langston Hughes
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Early Works - Misty City

City’s lights like dotted jewels
glow and blink on night’s velvet gown
mist of white blanket
creates ghostly shapes under light.
Foghorn in bay like monster’s roar
breaks silence in the city’s white crown
people, collars hugging neck
wander on their forever trek.

Quiet cities, misty city,
city by the bay,
listen to the monster baying
at your open door.
“Let us in. Let us in.” they say
and blares another trumpet blast.
“Let us in. Let us in.”.
Your white guardian to pass.

Sleeping city, misty city,
city with halo crown
people in their pastures lay
arms unfurled on bodies round.
Silent demands on shadows lay
across the still waters of the bay.
Ghostly crown holds no pity
welcomes no one to the misty city.

15 June 1978

poem by David Harris
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Stir Like Flashes Of Moonlight

Memories of teenage summer nights
stir like flashes of moonlight
on North Beach sea waves at night

blurred water white crested sight
rolling in upon shadowed beach
next to Tip Head skimming illusions

polished images of how we were
seen through introspective lens
ghost cries of gull and youth

mingle then now through dimensions’ change
some swam hard to catch wildfire lightning
to voice shock waves echo in new lands

poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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Song of Karen, the Dancing Child

(O little white feet of mine)
Out in the storm and the rain you fly;
(Red, red shoes the colour of wine)
Can the children hear my cry?

(O little white feet of mine)
Never a child in the whole great town;
(Red, red shoes the colour of wine)
Lights out and the blinds pulled down.

(O little white feet of mine)
Never a light on a window pane,
(Red, red shoes the colour of wine)
And the wild wet cry of the rain.

(O little white feet of mine)
Shall I never again be still?
(Red, red shoes the colour of wine)
And away over valley and hill.

(O little white feet of mine)
Children, children, open the door!
(Red, red shoes the colour of wine)
And the wind shrieks Nevermore.

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Happy

When I look at you
I know what you say is true.
When I hear your voice
I know I made the right choice.
When I smell your smell
I remember how hard I fell.
When I feel your touch
I know why I love you so much.
When I feel your arms around me
I melt into you softly.
When I feel your hand in mine
I know everything will be just fine.
When I feel your kiss
I know exactly what I will miss.
When I look into your eyes
I know you will tell me no lies.
When I know you're near
I have no fear.
When I sense you're around
Nothing can bring me down.
When I hear your name
I feel my face enflame.
When you just appear
I feel this uncontrollable want for you, my dear.
When I touch your skin
I feel this electricity within.
When I'm with you I always smile,
I feel wonderful just getting to sit with you for awhile.
When you rub my feet
I feel my heart skip a beat.
When I hear you speak
I feel my legs go weak.
When I touch your lips with mine
I feel a tingle run down my spine.
When I think of us together
I want us to remain that way forever.
When we talk or you're with me
I feel so incredibly happy.

poem by Ashley Reese
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Snowy evening

Snowy evening
Snow filling the ground
Turning the city into white
She, in a bright red dress
Walking slowly, enjoying
Her walk in the snowy evening
Towards the Fence of the garden!

Greenaries of the garden
Now in white shades
With frozen drops of ice
Covering the grass
Every little bush
Like a cotton plant
Making a lovely sense!

Few snow flakes in her hands
To taste the pretty white snow
She opens her mouth
Awesome beauty with a white perl
In hand towards her mouth
With more innocence
Trees and bushes covered with snow
Wonders if she is pretty
Or the snow fall is pretty
Unexpressed silence persists
In the garden
Till the beauty
Went down the street!

poem by Archana Prabahar
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I Love You

I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.

Not for me the cold calm kiss
Of a virgin's bloodless love;
Not for me the saint's white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world's blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.

So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we'll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Hands

The little hands too soft and white
To have known more laborious hours
Than those which die upon a night
Of kindling wine and fading flowers;

The little hands that I have kissed,
Finger by finger, to the tips,
And delicately about each wrist
Have set a bracelet with my lips;

Dear soft white little morbid hands,
Mine all one night, with what delight
Shall I recall in other lands,
Dear hands, that you were mine one night!

poem by Arthur Symons
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