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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Related quotes
Skimmers
As a boy he used to toss
flat rocks on the water
of the farm dam or nearby lake
watching them skim
over the surface
only touching here and there
and there was some magic
in the leaping
almost right across the water surface.
The wind whirls up tiny whirlwinds
running out before him on the beach,
a lonely boy is tossing shells into the air
which are blown back in a curling flight,
sand hits legs, arms and the body
stinging like sandpaper,
in the distance skimmers are eating from shells
near to green-blue hued pools,
with some flying low over the sea
and he flings his thoughts back to many years,
thinking again and again
about a world that has changed with time
how he changed from an innocent believing child
to the mature successful man
but his life is empty and he is here to find something.
[Reference: Skimmers by Ted Walker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Your Feet
When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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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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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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Complete; Rising Crimson With Love
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
and the sun was rising crimson with love
as we walked hand in hand and flew like the doves.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
as we sat on the sands without any cares
and the tears in our eyes were for joy not for grief
as we sat and felt as one with the beach.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
your heart was in mine and mine was in yours
as we walked hand in hand on those magical shores.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
as we sat on the sands without any cares
and we joined with the ocean that came to our feet
making us the beach and the ocean complete.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
with the healing, the feeling, of being at peace
the sand at our feet, the surf in our mind
an ocean of stillness in one heart that's combined.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
with our eyes full of stars our hearts without cares
and a sun that was rising crimson with love
as our souls were set free into the sky up above.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
and the sun was rising crimson with love
as we walked hand in hand and flew like the doves.
poem by David Taylor
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We walked on the beach
We walked on the beach
my shadow and I.
Rocks protruded
out of the sand
and a big ship passed by.
The tide was high
and the angry sea crashed
and slapped spray
upon the rocks.
a Strong wind scratched
me with buckets full of sand
and I wondered what had happened
to a perfect day at the beach,
but later the wind died down.
a Single gull surfed the air
and suddenly it wasn’t there
and only the green sea,
the white-hot sun,
surf crashing on the beach
and I remained.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Soft White
When the sea is as grey as her eyes
On these days for sure &nb sp;the soft white
mist blown in from the ocean &n bsp;the town dissolving
It all adds up ;her bare shoulders
Nakedness ; rolling in from the sea
on winter afternoons - a fine rain
looking down on the sand &nb sp;& shingle
the waves breaking on the shore &n bsp;& white
It is impossible to deny what
taken by surprise ; then wonder
the many details of her body
to be held first now &nbs p;then later
In body & mind &nb sp;the fine rain outside
on winter afternoons &nb sp; the nakedness
of her bare shoulders &nbs p; as grey as her eyes
the sea rushing up the beach as white as
The whole outline called 'geography'
meeting at a set of erotic points
lips shoulders&n bsp; breasts &n bsp;stomach
the town dissolves &nbs p; sex thighs &n bsp; legs
Outside &n bsp; then across her nakedness
it rains in the afternoon &nbs p; then the wonder
her body so young & firm &nb sp;dissolves the town
in winter & nbsp;grey as her eyes
poem by Lee Harwood
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Memories Of The Beach
We went to the beach to get wind in our hair
to stand on the sand and simply to stare.
To let the surf tickle toes and dampen our clothes
as we played 'run away'
from the wavelets at play.
We went to the beach to climb on the rocks
find cool shallow pools where we'd take of our socks,
and peer in the waters to see what we might find
that the waves of the sea,
had last left behind.
We went to the beach to find coloured shells
the kind that when placed to our ears
make the sound of the ocean appear,
and gathered rocks that we never would find
in the places we walked,
for most of the time.
We went to the beach and all that, we did find
and the smell of the salt refreshed our tired minds.
I'll never forget the laughter and sounds
and the freedom to run,
on that wet sandy ground.
We went to the beach my family and I
and there we were one,
with the ocean, the beach, and the sky.
poem by David Taylor
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Devotion
admiration followed him from the men and women
of the beach as he walks one summer
his skin glowing to the sun: gold
the color of mud, his hair blowing freely
on his head, his steps mellow to the sand
a young maiden from the village follows him
at a distance but not so near bringing him his shirt
neatly folded in her hands-
a little bit angry, she looks at him lifting her eyes
but again not so near
she gives up devotion and throws his shirt
on the grey sand
runs toward the other end of the shore
and disappears
her feet are so tiny leaving this awkward
cloud when she runs away from him
he sees her vanish
ignoring what cloud she left from her tiny feet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scenes of the Brokenhearted
I.
His arm falls across her like a broken limb
over a stream. Their legs wind like roots around,
she feels his breathing slow to a dreaming
rhythm. His breath is warm on her neck
II.
If you kill an ant near its colony
the others will come for the body
If you crush the ones who come
more will follow
III.
The grass on the golf course
can see over fences
IV.
The quarry plummets in large, orderly steps.
From a distance it seems he could just step
right down into the rock
V.
The tiny bird flaps rapidly and then, pinning
its wings to its side, plummets.
It bobs
through the maze of naked branches
like a yo-yo. She knows what it feels in its stomach, why
it lets itself fall like that for
just a moment
in the air
poem by Kelly E Gemmill
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Sea.
The sea sent the sloshing waves,
To kiss my feet, legs, body and face,
Loving me as always as I approaches,
It's caress so soothing
Like the fingers of a woman,
The waves mischieveously
Taking away the sand
From under my feet,
Making me loose my balace,
Like the way one feels at times,
In real life, the sea watching
My imbalanced dance,
Gurgling all th way, with asound
In the wind, singing relentlessly,
As if to tell me to be happy,
All the time, all my life,
Till I left the sea shore,
With a heaviness of spearation,
The sea smiling it away like always.
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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At Houtbay beach
A young girl and an old man
walk down steps
to the stretch
that the beach at Houtbay
throws against the sea.
There are some small fishing boats
in colours of blue,
orange and white
that sails into the sea,
but big white cabin cruisers
bobs up and down
next to the quay
some distance away
as if they are ownerless
while their bosses
play somewhere else.
The smell of sea-pike
roasting on coals
lies on the light wind
and their stomachs growl
of sudden hunger
and here and there
the girl stoops
to pick up shells.
His sturdy boots leaves flat tracts
on the firm sand
and there’s a brown wood walking stick
with a lion head in his hand
and the girl’s
bare foot tracts
run in advance.
The sea swishes in and out
and the wet sand
reflects a bright open day
and the blue water
stretches out
as far as you can see
and it’s as if he gets new power
next to the foaming water.
poem by Gert Strydom
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018 ~ Like A Kite
a robust south wind blew today
caught my baggy clothes
from behind, the arms
of my sweater and pants legs
flailed briskly in the breeze
closing my eyes, I felt like a kite
putting hands in my pockets,
I let go of my body
and went to that child
in my subconscious
the wind in my hair,
rocking back and forth
in my shoes,
I was floating above everything
soaring not to see or be seen
but to catch more wind,
surf the skies, escape
a wide smile on my face
as the wind died down
gliding gently down
back to earth
like a kite
poem by Stan Pelfrey
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You lay naked on the bed
You lay naked on the bed,
stretched out on your back,
with the room’s window open wide
as if you are trying to catch the breeze,
while the sun is touching the mountain top
the last time in the late afternoon
and I see your breasts moving up and down
while you breathe, where you lay with legs wide open
where sunlight is falling on the little hairs
totally unaware of your shame,
so as if you are only a little girl
while you sleep on
and I draw a light coverlet over you,
before the dusk catches you
with a sudden chilliness.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Summer's Wind
You are the wind on a hot summer’s day
That cools off the air
Surrounding my body
You are the wind in my hair
As I walk down the street
You are the wind
That blows through my dreams
And awakens me to feelings
Of living and smiling
You are the wind
In which my hair rises
And my breath quickens
As my smile lifts
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the sun
In which I need
To stay warm
You are the moon
In which I need
To read at night
You are the sun
In which brightens the day
To show me the way
To your arms
You are the moon
In which I need
To see the starts
To gaze under
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
You are the wind
That cools off the air
And helps so I can smile again
You are the wind
In which I feel
Your simple touch
Which makes me yield
You are the wind
In which I stop
And feel, calm, relaxed
And realize I am alive
You are the wind
On a hot summer’s day
That makes me realize
Life
Might just be
Ok
poem by Scarred Unknown
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the symbolism that you gave to the poems of Pablo Neruda
your feet hangs on the sand
your body flat
the poems of Pablo are contained in a book
Five Decades of Poetry
on top of your belly just near the center of
your swimming trunks
wet and white
your navel is surrounded by masculine hair
and the book slides just below there
beside is a dark tainted glass
and a bottle of mineral water from Nature Springs
your feet are shaped like the wings of a dove
shielding you from the faint horizon of the sea quite far away
blue clouds faint like hues of sky blue
Half of your body without a face
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life is short, running like the wind (Song)
God Created, Given as a life.
Touching the people, leaving the people
Moving from place to place
Life is short, running like the wind.
Flowing through the valleys, touching the water
Flowing through the mountains, touching the cliffs
Flowing through the deserts,
Flowing on the oceans and
Running around the earth.
Life is short, running like the wind.
Touching the people, spinning the lives
Touching the old and touching the young
Touching the women and touching the men
Flowing on the ground and playing with the kids.
Life is short, running like the wind.
Running through the villages,
Gushing through the towns,
Swirling in the deserts,
Storming on the oceans,
Touching the earth and calming down.
Life is short, running like the wind.
Touching the flowers, spreading the fragrance
Flowing in the sky and flying the kites
Speeding in the places and spinning the windmills
Running on the rivers and pushing the boats
Life is short, running like the wind.
Days are in and nights are out
Seasons are spinning, time is running
Teja is playing, music sheet is ending
Life is short, running like the wind.
Eyes are closing, dreams are flowing
Going into sleep and day is moving
Life is short, running like the wind.
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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The Death Papers.... (Part Two)
i, the body
of earth and wind,
cry for the mountains,
the valleys, and rivers.
i am man,
the warrior naked,
muscled dark and lean.
with eyes borrowed from the hawk,
and hands that turn the ground.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the marks of the whip scar my back.
with hardened phallus,
and panting breath,
i follow the trail of the wolves.
i am woman,
the warrior naked,
long hair swept by the wind.
with eyes borrowed from the owl,
and hands skilled in healing.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the scar of the chains on my wrists.
breasts born with fire,
garden wet with hungry birth,
i am the trail the wolves follow!
and now,
i, the body
lay down my cross,
seed in the furrow,
sunlight waiting
for darkness's goodbye kiss.
for i, the body,
am earth and wind....
mountains, valleys,
and rivers cry for me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dance of Love
I ride on your thighs and I embrace you with my both hands
The wind scraps our deep love dance off with the sudden gusts
Our swift flicks it several times, its tip just touching the wet sand.
The sky is blue and leaves of our tree are covered with orange rust.
My hands moved down your body before reaching your hips
The predation tremor in the early life dance of thrills flounder
Cradling my body in your arms my warm lips are against your lips
Your thoughts made me shiver as my eyes wandered endlessly over
You take small steps and make the turn into and become a part of my dance.
In the next instant an explosion of dawn light and the stirrings of happiness herald
You gonna take me to a place where I can shine, take me high feel so high trance
I keep the new world in the grain of green, I see love in your eyes of emerald.
You keep real close, lover whispers to my ear, I fly to the heavens’ high
You run your fingers through my hair, then dance your lips in orbital circle
Yet another rip in the space time continuum, and a return of perfect fry,
Our love makes slain the sentinel, a deity who is surrounding our crepuscle
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Rainy beach times
Children playing on a beach,
Nowhere to hide nowhere to seek,
Using there minds to play there games,
Running In the sand on a rainy day,
It dose not matter if the sun doesn't shine,
If the wind blows hard and the sands not dry,
There having fun so that's just fine,
Playing on a beach at two, three, and five,
With sand in there shoes and between there toes,
And wind swept hair and soggy clothes,
They feel no cold only time for fun
The moaning starts when they wet there bum,
It must look like desert to someone so young,
Who's two foot high and full of fun,
What an adventure it must be,
Playing in the sand and feeling free,
I can't remember ever being that high,
But we all must have though's of rainy beach times,
So as I stand here now alone on the beach,
Watching them play no hide and seek,
Spending this moment through children's eyes,
As they have there adventure and a rainy beach times.
Kevin Glenn
29-08-2011
poem by Kevin Glenn
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