For you
Early morning I will pick up the most beautiful seashells,
before the sand-plovers and tourists come
and like a child as if they are treasures
I will give hands full to you
and you I will take with the first daybreak
down to the beach
and together we will walk long stretches
where the water just meet our feet
and we will have long conversations
about the things
that we should have said years ago
and I will tell you how you fit into my life.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The footprints in my heart
My heart looks like a beach
After a long summers day
Absolute chaos
A whole life of people
Or just a day of chaos
When my heart
was just like a beach
early morning
just as the sun came up
washed clean of all that came before
not a print
unblemished by peoples disregard
for it is clean of all chaos
then I let the first person in
who walked a long trail
lonely path cut into fresh sand
serenity has come beauty
the first footprint
interrupted by a calm wave
sweeping to interrupt the first sign
of someone walking on my heart
then as the time drags on the beauty changed
more people than just one
disrupting my clean beach
walking, jumping, lying on my beach
the beauty changed to chaos
but for one thing
the footprint of love
of care that the beauty should not be touched
then hurt of the careless one
leaving their dirt behind
muddy footprints of a careless child
a conceited adult
so during the erosion of my beach
day in day out
night for night
cleaning and sweeping
but for those
careless footprints
of the one who used the beach
with no care
for what damage they do
they destroyed
the beautiful beach
the beautiful heart
so the question is
will with time
this beach
heal and find its beauty again
will the footprints of the new day
come back and make
the heart forget
those days of chaos
I wait for the one person
Early one morning
To make new footprint
Not one set, but two
One for me and one for her
New footprints on my heart
Beautiful Morning
What a beautiful morning
The best in life is free
What a beautiful morning
Believe me
What a mystery
Though the world's on fire
Yesterday's hard words is still in my head
I feel no despair
No regrets or sorrows
Cause this new day
Makes me dance on air
What a golden day
What a beautiful morning in my life
The best in life is free
I give it all away
And I wonder what more is to come
And this beautiful morning changed my mind
Believe me when I say
The shadows fading out
As the day grows bright
We are turning pages
And we write new chapters of our life
Some are strong and long
Others weak with sorrows
Keep the focus on the rising sun
What a golden day
What a beautiful morning in my life
The best in life is free
I give it all away
And I wonder what more is to come
And this beautiful morning changed my mind
Believe me when I say
Shadows fading out
Believe me - crows will always fly
Believe me - they are only birds
You have to
You have to let go and you will see things in a different light
What a beautiful morning
What a beautiful morning
Believe me
What a beautiful
What a beautiful morning...
Believe me
song performed by by Ace Of Base from Da Capo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eastern River
Do not look for the stones
in water above the mud,
the boat is gone.
No longer with nets and baskets
the river is dotted.
The sun wick,
the marsh marigold flickered out in rain.
Only the willow still bears witness,
in its roots
the secrets of tramps lie hidden,
their paltry treasures,
a rusty fishhook,
a bottle full of sand,
a tine with no bottom,
in which to preserve
conversations long forgotten.
On the boughs,
empty nests of the penduline titmice,
shoes light as birds.
No one slips them
over children's feet.
Translated by Michael Hamburger
poem by Peter Huchel
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Child of mine…
To my beautiful child, , ,
Beautiful child, being so small you inspire me big,
Beautiful child, so fragile, you make me so strong,
Beautiful child, so tender your touch your power is great,
Beautiful child, small is your heart, infinite is the love I feel for you;
Beautiful child, your hand I’m anxious to hold, to walk life’s road with you by my side.
Beautiful child, your light will show me the way,
Beautiful child, you came to my life to teach me a lesson that I shall never forget…
Nor riches, nor power can give us the best things of life…
The smile of a child…Is the best of all rewards…
poem by Ale Duncan
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On This Beach...
Life is a beach.
There are jellyfish. And sea urchins…the painful bumps along the road that we all encounter in life. On this beach.
In life..and on a beach there is warm water-like times, when we are happy, and have good times and enjoy living. On this beach.
We also have times, like a beach, when we have cold water times; when we are sad, or upset about losing someone or something. On this beach.
There are rough times, the same way the sea has rough water that pounds angrily against the shore. On this beach.
Life, like the sea, has high and low times, or tides. There is low tide when you think u can no longer go on, that life has done too much damage to you. Then the tide comes back in…and you are reminded that life goes on. Life gets better. You cannot give up on life, like you can’t give up on a beach because of a rough day or low tides. On this beach.
Life has sharks. Maybe not the same sharks from a beach, but they are there. They are the people that thrive on your pain and tears and hardship, the same way a shark sustains itself through brutal killing of unaware seals who don’t know what is coming or how bad it is. The sharks are there. Waiting. For someone…for you…like an unsuspecting seal, to come along and unknowingly become trapped in their lies and hurt. On this beach.
Life…has good times. Wonderful times where the only thoughts you have are about how much life is worth living and how much you love life. It is like the clear, cool blue water on a beautiful day at the beach. On this beach.
Life has those amazing people….akin to the beachgoers on a sandy shore…just along for the ride…to enjoy the good…and pack up and leave when it rains or something goes wrong. But there are the surfers..the daredevils…going back into the fear and love of the sea….of life. They risk the sharks, and jellyfish, and rough water and low and high tides, not because they are invincible, but because they know about the good that is to be had in this world. On this beach.
Life is so comparable to a beach…most importantly in that it has sand like a beach. Billions upon billions of unique grains of sand, like the 7 billion different people in this world, on this beach.
poem by Dark Fallout
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Moments At The Beach
flowing water, cool breeze
waves washing a shore
birds drifting in the wind
boats sailing on the water
people strolling along the beach
children playing in the sand
sun bathers laying a shore
swimmers playing in the water
volleyball in the sand
family picnics under the trees
The lake so beautiful
The beach so free
people being friendly
the life so simple for a day at the beach
Strangers, friends and family enjoying the lake
the simple things in life is enjoy nature and ourselves
poem by Michael Peterson
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Howard Simon
Howard Simon a young friend of mine
Walked the sands of of the Virgin Islands in search of prose
He arrived at acove in a horseshoe shaped beach
His hand was full of seashells
I said nice to meet you my friend and they dropped to the sand like dollars lost from his hand
Why? because we never know when someone we know may be encountered
And the treasurers at hand are just but a meer encounter of life as we live.
So howard come visit me in Jersey combing the beach and I'll dropp the syringes when thier out of reach...shea
Blues Beach
I was scrapin' bottom
Groping in the dark
It takes a crusty punk to really beat
The mean streets of Medicine Park
So I shifted left and out of town
Then I clicked my heels and I doubled down to
Blues Beach, I'm frying
Sizzling in the merciful rays
And it's the long sad Sunday of the early resigned
I went to Central Station
To catch that early bus
They were gassed and runnin' in every which way
But unhappily not for us
Here come Trinathe child bride
I said hey pretty girlcan I cop a ride to
Blues beach, it's raining
I'm chilling at the Manatee Bar
Well it's a stone soul picnic for the early resigned
We can rent a paranymphic glider
My hypothetical friend
And we could sail away to the bending end
Grab Big Dog a blanket
Angel of my heart
Things may get a whole lot worse
Before suddenly falling apart
Give your roommate Yvonne a ring
'Cause if she still wants in I gotta pull some strings
On Blues Beach, I'm dying
Freezin' in the merciful rays
And it's the long sad Sunday of the early resigned
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intro/walk On Water
Here is the water
The one that rushes
From our hearts into the sea
Endlessly hoping to be
Here is the water
The one that rushes from our
Minds into the street
Endlessly hoping to meet
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They said that we were getting smarter
They said that we were something new
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about twenty and two
We done all the wrong things
And all we done good
They said we were the new beginning
They said we were a brand new start
We were none of these thing and they said we could sing
So we sang about the state of the art
They said we were the second coming
They said we were a different breed
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about the birds and the bees
Bunch of do nothing that were down on your knees
Can you walk on water
But can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They say that we say we say something
They say that we say something new
We say some of these things and they say we can sing
So we sang about a hundred and two
But if nobody listens well nothing comes true
When you walk on water
When you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
Can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
We never walked on - w a t e r
So tell me something smarter w a t e r
Matadors monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that were perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
No sense in fooling
Were covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waste high in tendrils of green
Were so small but we feel oh so grand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
End of the world
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Early In The Morning You Smile
When early in the morning you smile at me
there are parts of eternity that shatters
in into my life,
and I see a new day beginning
with I share in part with you,
when moments linger for a long time
as if a wonderful day
stretches into eternity
and sometimes I do wonder
why my life was for so long
empty of you?
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Curse
the soothsayer reads the lines
in your palms and
she says
you will marry
a beautiful woman
and you will have
a son
you will live a very long life
you will be rich
she continues
your marriage will not last long
the beautiful woman shall betray you and go with another man
your son will be gay
your money will be taken by your partner
your life will be long but it will be in sickness and bitterness
there will be no cure for your disease
and the doctors will give up
you will scream as loud as thunder
but even the nearest star cannot hear you
your life looks full like a bag
filled with air
it will be deep like a well
but without water
your only hope left is death only if you wish for it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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Dusty Doors
Child of the Aztec gods,
how long must we listen here,
how long before we go?
The dust is deep on the lintels.
The dust is dark on the doors.
If the dreams shake our bones,
what can we say or do?
Since early morning we waited.
Since early, early morning, child.
There must be dreams on the way now.
There must be a song for our bones.
The dust gets deeper and darker.
Do the doors and lintels shudder?
How long must we listen here?
How long before we go?
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Children on the Beach
Most children love to build
Sand-castles on the beach;
And pretty seriously,
They work for such long hours!
Some also draw and write,
By finger on wet soil;
How well they imagine,
And work like artistes fine!
Yet, they are innocent;
They do not know the sea;
The water-waves that come
Wash off their labored tasks.
They never realize
That sand can’t stand for long,
In sun, rain or sea-waves;
‘The foundation isn’t strong! ’
Some do it just for joy;
Some hearts are broken fast;
Some jump with angry feet
–Their toil gone all awaste!
Adults do similar things,
Although, they are aware;
They build castles in air,
And write upon water!
Are not adults stupid
To work with dangers nigh?
And build such flimsy things
That easily gets destroyed!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-10-2008
poem by John Celes
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A Request To The Dead
I offer this water to you,
my father, grandfather and great grandfather,
and to you, soldiers and generals
who fought for us and who fought against us
and who were killed by this war.
I stand here, on this battlefield,
and give this water and this rice to you—
you must be hungry and thirsty.
Ask for nothing
other than water and rice,
don't add to the long list
of things I was not able to give;
be content with this water and this rice
and return
to wherever you came from.
Consider this: the years
I have spent with you were many;
and this: it will not be long
before I join you wherever you sojourn.
Had I possessed things
other than this water and this rice,
would I have denied them to you
and asked you to return ?
Whatever I have
other than this water and this rice
are surely not appropriate offerings
for departed souls.
True, I traverse everyday of my life
with this baggage of witheld things,
but whenever I look at them
I disintegrate and cry out
with a voice that rends
the heavens
and the underworld.
Tears fill my eyes
when I make this offering
of water and rice.
I know, when my turn comes,
I shall have neither.
Look, the sun has almost set.
Now, go back to wherever you came from
with the little water and the little rice I gave you.
Look, I myself do not have
either any water or any rice.
Look, I have nothing except the few things
I didn't give
and kept with myself.
[Translated by the poet]
poem by Ramakanta Rath
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To parents
Come back, swim back… I need you…
When I stood a child upon the seashore
waving through the tears as first
the one and then the other
was taken by the tide until
no longer visible in that dark sea
too vasty to be thought about…
then turned, and ran back up the beach
to meet and greet my life..
that was, as it was; but now
I run back to the water’s edge
shouting come back... I never knew you,
I’m grown up now, I want to meet you,
ask you all the things I never asked,
tell you all the things I never dared,
look you in your fierce, sad eyes…
come back, swim back, I need you,
for I’m grown up now; I can love you
without restraint; give love not ask for it…
or must I wait, until the tide
laps feet, then knees, then heart, then sight…
to join you in that dark unknownness which
may be, may be, an even greater love
than that which stands here at the water’s edge
as the evening water darkens,
shouting swim back, swim back…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Fog
You see, Im all grown up now.
He said,
Just put your feet down child,
cause youre all grown up now.
Just like a photograph,
I pick you up.
Just like a station on the radio,
I pick you up.
Just like a face in the crowd,
I pick you up.
Just like a feeling that youre sending out,
I pick it up.
But I cant let you go.
If I let you go,
You slip into the fog...
This love was big enough for the both of us.
This love of yours was big enough to be frightened of.
Its deep and dark, like the water was,
The day I learned to swim.
He said,
Just put your feet down, child.
Just put your feet down child,
The water is only waist high.
Ill let go of you gently,
Then you can swim to me.
Is this love big enough to watch over me?
Big enough to let go of me
Without hurting me,
Like the day I learned to swim?
cause youre all grown up now.
Just put your feet down, child,
The water is only waist high.
Ill let go of you gently,
Then you can swim to me.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walk On Water
I met a magic man,
who had a daughter
She learned her lessons well,
but still i taught her
She followed willingly,
as lambs to slaughter
We shared forbiden fruits,
and things i brought her
You may say i'm a miracle mannequin,
Here i come with my mystical plan again,
Although you think i can, i'm just a man
And I don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
I followed willingly,
a sweet temptation
She had me hypnotized,
and still i'm waiting
My dromedary dreams
as wet as oceans
With sand dunes bearing seeds
she set in motion
You may say i'm a cynical charlatan
There i go with my whimsical ways again
Although you think i can, i'm just a man
And i don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
Kaliedoscopial eyes
as you look in the mirror
And the long is getting
shorter as the far is now nearer
Are you just a mirror
standing in front of me?
Am i blind,
can my eyes really see?
You may say i'm a miracle mannequin,
Here i come with my mystical plan again,
Although you think i can, i'm just a man
And i don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
I don't walk on water (oh no)
My dromedary dreams
as wet as oceans
With sand dunes bearing seeds
she set in motion
My dromedary dreams
My dromedary dreams
My dromedary dreams
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beach after storm
The largest stones are piled against the sea-wall
since that huge storm, a hundred years ago.
For the sea will never leave the beach alone –
might you think it would fling
the smallest stones the furthest?
No – to re-assert its power,
it challenges the heftiest resistance,
with inexhaustible, ruthless determination
rolling, thrusting, flinging in impatient storm
the largest, furthest; then grading with such patient delicacy
over the years, the smooth but fine-scratched stones
of so many colours – how can it have found,
how long for it to find, so many lucent colours of wet stone?
These sometime finds – searching with a child’s fine eye –
of purest pebbled marble - how many thousand miles
has the sea rolled these from southern shores?
And these smooth stones of reddest brick,
or rubbed, etched glass? Or ancient serpentine,
bright green?
Then after a night of wildest storm,
the air intoxicating with its ozone,
new treasures thrown up on the beach:
green glass globes from fishing nets,
cork mats, boat wood, torn seaweed
in thick chunks like beached, exhausted octopods;
the beach re-shaped; even some parabolas of sand
while the seethe… keesh… of the dying storm
draws incessantly, then spews the finest shingle
in its maw like a hungry concrete-mixer.
The beach spreads out its shining, wet
new treasure for the child-bright eye.
This afternoon, the rock pools will be full;
all will be new; sea-god a child again.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sand Storm
We make our way along Bournemouth prom,
To a favourite pub of ours, for a lazy late lunch.
But long before we ever make it that far along,
Our mouths fill with sand, on which we crunch.
The sand from the beach is being blown by the wind.
We watch it as we walk along the almost endless prom.
Despite having to battle through the gusting gale,
It’s quite a novelty to see the sand being blown along.
The fine granules form ever moving designs.
Many an interesting pattern the sand makes.
As it’s perpetually blown this way and that,
It twists and turns and twirls, just like snakes.
The sand has collected in patches here and there,
And some of them really are pretty deep.
Rather than walking along the tarmac prom,
We could almost be walking along the actual beach!
As I walk through the large patches of sand,
The granules collect in both of my shoes.
But I walk through patch after patch en route:
I don’t mind, as, me, it does quite amuse.
The wind whips the sand up into a frenzy.
It’s in my mouth, my eyes and in my hair.
Sand is being blown all over the place.
In fact, it seems to be almost everywhere!
I happen to place my hand on the back of my neck,
And I can feel sand there, just below my head.
The next morning, when I get up and look,
There are grains of sand near the foot of my bed!
It was really nice to have a small reminder
Of our very enjoyable, but tiring, day out.
I do so love going down to Bournemouth.
We’ll be back there soon without a doubt!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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