Related quotes: I returned early from pass...

The Last Day Of Military Leave

I returned early from pass to the camp
at Natal Command in Durban
right opposite the beach,
went in to stow my kit
and on that late weekend afternoon
the camp was almost empty
with only a few guards
and probably skeleton staff running it

and I drove out on my motorbike
in civilian clothes,
parking it near a cinema,
was walking to a restaurant
to have a decent meal
when a bevy of lovely girls
walked right up to me
and offered to buy me a drink or two
as it was clear that I was in the army
as my hair was short and I was young

and there were five of them
with every single one dressed in a mini skirt
or something very sexy
and I had a cider, some of them beer, champagne,
vodka martinis and whatever they fancied
and we were rather jolly

and we talked and later walked out on the beach,
seeing the setting sun, the bright rising yellow moon
and that night was really something
but when it got romantic, there were five of them
and only one of me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Girls On The Beach

Ah ah ah ah oo ooo ooo oo ahh
The girls on the beach
On the beach youll find them there
In the sun and salty air
The girls on the beach
Are all within reach
If you know what to do
How we love to lie around
Girls with tans of golden brown
The girls on the beach
Are all within reach
And one waits there for you
(girls on the beach)
The sun in her hair
The warmth of the air
On a summer day
As the sun dips out of sight
Couples on the beach at night
The girls on the beach
Are all within reach
And with the boys tonight
(girls on the beach)
Girls on the beach, girls on the beach
Girls on the beach, girls on the beach

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dong Tou Dao

I cannot stay, I cannot go,
And where I am but you would know,
I walk where feet have walked before
But your feet linger at the shore.

The sea, immense, this great divide
With each on each, the other side,
Where once we walked as moon on moon,
Now one must light our afternoon.

That narrow beach, I see it now,
That lonely beach at Dong Tou Dao
Where you laughed once, like tinkle bells
While I went looking for strange shells.

And when you walked, so full of grace
Along the sand, that lonely place
I saw my moon reflect your eyes
With ancient wisdom, speak Chinese.

A day I will remember when
All youth has rendered folk old men,
But you will young be, fair of face
At Dong Tou Beach, I see you pace.

And all I have that keeps me sane
Are moving images – each frame
Recalls that laughing girl, that day
Repeating, like some roundelay.

My past will not now let me go
As cold and chills me overflow,
I would I had not left you now…
I left my heart at Dong Tou Dao.

24 December 2007

poem by David Lewis Paget
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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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Tangiers 1970

The Mediterranean Sea
caught the moonlight

as you wandered the beach
with Mame

she grabbed your hand
and kissed your cheek

isn't it out of this world?
she said stopping

and looking into your eyes
and breathing out

her peppermint breath
you smelt the sea salt

felt the slight breeze
coming across the sea

wouldn't you rather be
with one of the other guys

than be here with me?
you said

gazing at her fuzzy hair
her light blue eyes

oh piss the other guys
it's you I like

she said
brushing a hand

through your hair
pulling you in closer

to her small tight breasts
don't you like me?

she asked
I thought you fancied me

the way you kept staring at me
on the coach and in Tangiers

you heard the Berber drums
and voices from the camp base

coming on the wind
and wondered if the others

would guess she'd taken you
down the beach

for something romantic
or tumble in the sands

with all lips and hands
well?

she asked
standing there

in her flowered
two piece bathing cloth

sure I do
you muttered

sensing her hand
reaching down

your jeans
seeking an erection

a sign of interest
do you ever think

of those ancients
who may once

have stood
where we now stand?

you said
how they too

may have stood
beneath a sky

and stars
and moon like us?

she stood back and stared
and uttered coldly

no I haven't
and couldn't give a cuss

and off she went
up the beach

to the base camp
on smooth sands

and rough tufts of grass
and oh how she knew

to wiggle
her small tight ass.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Sandy Beach In April

I stood on a sandy beach
on an April weekend.
The sun was shining bright
on each wave
that carried its reflection in.
The sky in the west
was filled with mottled clouds
and on occasional breaks;
the sun’s rays peaked through.
An easterly breeze
lifted the sand into little swirls
and carried them a short while
before depositing them down again,
as I walked along a sandy beach in April.

5 April 2008

poem by David Harris
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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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Going to church

I was called up to a military camp
and we were in tents in Parrow
and I was seconded to a special unit
on our way to De Brug
from where we would go to Luhatla
and from there to war in Angola

and although we were guarded
by marines
some guys at night sneaked
through the patrols
and I could have accompanied them
if I wished,
but they visited paid girls.

Time after time I had requested
to be transferred to a unit in Pretoria
where I lived,
but my letters came back
stamped request denied.

I asked to go to church
instead of attending prayer parade,
and my request was granted
and I got pass for the day
on condition to get a lift
and I called a doctor
friend of mine.

He fetched me with his Alfa Guiletta
and we went to Tygerberg church
where I was a member when we
were still married.

One of the girls
was very friendly
and was blonde, quite lovely
with a awesome smile
and a short black mini skirt
and she came to sit
right next to me
and I still remember
her long legs.

That day almost came
to a halt for me
when you walked in
with your husband
to have your
newborn son blessed in
and I couldn’t take my eyes
away from the pair of you
and saw your parents
and even his.

You were more beautiful
than I had remembered
but looked quite nervous
and the baby looked great
and at first I was quite angry,
at life, at your happiness
but seeing you there
did something to me.

The service was better
than most
and the blonde
invited me to the flat
that she shared
with her sister
where we had lunch
and she was really nice
and my spirits were high
and I was ready to fight
any war after this.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Lovely Daze

It's ten a.m. and I just woke up
Walked to the window and opened the shades up
Sun so bright that I can hardly see
But I'm a black man
So I pass on a tan
Dip to the bathroom take me a shower
But first called up my girl told her be ready in an hour
I was still a bit tired man I'm laggin'
Grabbed the tooth brush to kil the dragon
Ooh have mercy great day in the morning
Turn on the water and I'm stretchin' and yawnin'
Tryin' to get a blender to hot with the cold
Man I'm young but why I feel so old
Get it just right then step to the mirror
Rubbin' my eyes to make my vision get clearer
Everything looks a-o.k.
And today is gonna be a lovely day
1 - (a lovely day)
lovely day
lovely day
lovely day
lovely day
So I jet out the crib and hop in the benzo
Today is my girls day and all of my friends go
Just me and her top down on the highway
If you're gonna do it then why not do it the fly way
First a car wash next the barber shop
Then off to my girls crib that's my next stop
A dozen roses a card and candy
I'm a true mackadocious mr. Romanty
She hoped in and she asked where we're goin'
Yo we like a twig in the nile we just flowin'
Maybe to the beach or maybe hook up a picnic
But yo it doesn't matter cause today we just kickin' it
I threw in my homemade slow tape
And off to the beach for some beautiful landscape
Man this is a bonafide lovers delight
Got the ocean on the left the mountains on the right
I said yeah cause that's the way i was feelin'
Free as a bird got the clouds for a ceiling
I wish that i could rest my gas and fly away
Today has been a lovely day
Repeat 1
It's dark outsid

song performed by by Will Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything's Turning To White

Late on a Friday my husband went up to the mountains with three friends
They took provisions and bottles of bourbon to last them all through the weekend
One hundred miles they drove just to fish in a stream
And there's so much water so close to home
When they arrived it was cold and dark; they set up their camp quickly
Warmed up with whisky they walked to the river where the water flowed past darkly
In the moonlight they saw the body of a young girl floating face down
And there's so much water so close to home
When he hold me now I'm pretending
I feel like I'm frozen inside
And behind my eyes

song performed by by Kasey Chambers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Polka Dot Bikini

Yonks ago,
On a beach in the land of sugar cane,
A girl
Wore a purple
Polka dot bikini
And eyed the sea
Like a matador might eye a bull.

Yonks ago,
On a beach in the land of sangomas,
A girl
Ran to the ocean's edge,
Long hair burning,
Blowing windward and wayward
In the pure blue sunshine.

Yonks ago,
On a beach in the land of ijuba beer,
A girl
Dived under,
The boys dived deeper,
Under the biggest waves
Never taking their eyes off her.

Yonks ago,
On a beach in Zululand,
A girl in a polka dot bikini
Walked by,
Wringing water from red hair,
The air around her aflame
With something I wanted.

poem by Consuelo Roland
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Where sexy meets demure in a place called trim

In the seat opposite in the underground
in the off-peak afternoon,
neat shoes, nice legs, skirt just the exact right length
where demure meets sexy in a place called trim;

well-chosen outfit; wasn’t her face
vaguely familiar in some other context?
Had we met, in Tahiti, Cuba, Necker Island,
or on some other sandy shore?
Met, yet not spoken? She offered me no clue..

Ah yes – for several years,
come January grey but promise of a summer sun,
the TV infomercials fill our screens
with this year’s new holiday destinations
for the single girl who’s demure to sexy,
late thirties, but still trim.. writing her own script
but with all the real life edited out..

How often had we seen her on a sunny beach,
her swimsuit just where sexy meets demure in trim,
about to enter a blue blue sea
with no-one else about…
such the conventions of the travel film,
she too often in the shot…

or at the table, glowing in her evening outfit,
bronzed, relaxed; but still alone;
filling us in with details and the sights to see
over the lavish fruit cup on the table
before the smiling waiter brings the laden plate -
after the waterfall where we’d seen her laughing,
the market where she’d handled exotic fruit,
the boat ride, she in the stern, her hair blown back.. or
riding in safe open car through crowds of exotic natives?

did she choose her invisible cameraman on these trips?
Were they an item? Or did his compensation
begin with the local talent when he put his camera down?
Did she queue at airports, fluster over overcharging,
wait for days for thunderclouds to clear?
Arise dishevelled from an ill-advised fling with a local,
which remained unspoken as the background
to travel for the single girl?

Sitting there, ex-travel correspondent, professional,
dressed where sexy meets demure in trim,
the camera and the sound were off; she
did not meet my eyes; but if I’d had
a travel brochure with me, I could have played
a merry game with her across the way..
What a joyous disaster film her memories could have made,
what a chance the infomercials cannot take…

poem by Michael Shepherd
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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

poem by John Doe
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At the Okavango swamp

It was in the Okavango swamp
that the dark ghoul came at night
and passed so near
that I could smell its stinking breath.

Every morning the four-toed tracks
lay in the sand
everywhere in the camp
where it came to break into
what ever it could find.

With powerful jaws and premolars
made for crushing bones
it gnawed into anything
that it could lay jaws on.

Till one night that the dog like
brown-grey carnivore
with black spots
got a shocking surprise
and I saw yellow eyes glowing
while it draw closer and closer
while crying
like a hysterical human laughing

and walked straight into
an electrified wire
fitted to a couple of landrover
and four by four batteries
running around the camp
and blue white sparks flew
and covered that hyena

like a character
in a computer game
it was covered in lightning
and it howled and howled
rising in pitch
and never came back again.

poem by Gert Strydom
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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.'

poem by Joe Fazio
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Under A Blanket Of Stars...