Related quotes: The sea lies millpond calm...

One fine Day: perhaps for J T Ellison

The sea lies millpond calm and still, obedient to the Goddess’ will.
She has decreed it must be so and thus the ocean far below.
Represses its own urgent needs and to the Goddess’ will accedes.
Its gleaming surface satin smooth. It has no choice to tell the truth
The mistress of both sea and sky.Sees no good reason to say why.
She chose serenity tonight; she rules the sea and has the right
to give instructions to sea which must obey immediately.
Sometimes she lets the breakers roar as they approach the rocky shore.
The daily tides which ebb and flow, she will allow to come and go.
Although there is no urgency she knows of their necessity
The high tide will sweep clean the beach and leave behind its furthest reach.
A tide line marked by oddities which have been carried on the seas
From here and there and everywhere. Jetsam which can be foul or fair. Beachcombers will explore to see what treasures they can take for free.
Though they prefer the aftermath of some fierce storm that shows the wrath of the ocean in angry mood. Because they have long understood.
The treasures which they hope to find, an angry sea will leave behind.
A tranquil night produces less of valuables that will impress.
The early birds who comb the beach above the high tides which can reach much further when theres been a storm and far exceed their usual norm.
Tomorrow morning they will find the sea has not left much behind.
But they will still search carefully because they think that there might be
some treasure they have missed before. When they have searched the sandy shore
Beach combers are a hopeful breed, they know one day they will succeed.
Grow rich beyond their wildest dreams their heads are full of madcap schemes
of what they’ll do as wealthy men but keep on searching until then.
It has been known before today that some beachcombers came away
with golden doubloons by the score which they discovered on the shore.
I do not claim this can’t be true. I think such finds are rare and few.
I have researched the evidence and find that most is sheer nonsense.
But local legends long endure although no one can say for sure.
That any treasure ship was wrecked along this coast but I suspect.
That it makes little difference, dreamers aren’t known for common sense.

8-Jan-09

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes

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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One Day for Michael

The Jetsam cast upon the shore.
The ebbing tide has left behind
I wonder where it’s been before.
I search to see what I can find.
Some small but worthwhile souvenir
which will repay the hours I’ve spent
in combing beaches far and near.
Some treasure lost by accident.
One day I hope to strike it rich
and find gold coins amongst the sand.
But Lady Luck can be a bitch,
she doesn’t seem to understand.
That gold’s no use beneath the sea
but I’d accept it gratefully.

9-May-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Solitude Of The Waves

SOLITUDE OF THE WAVES
Melvin Banggollay

As the tide of the ocean rises high
to kiss the lovely breast of the shore,
flocks of birds keeps on flying high
over the blue ocean's widest floor,
the winter breeze shares its delight
of coldness I can't long endure
while i'm in solitude of solemn sigh
reflecting deeply if I can still endure
memories written with every tides
of a love once build upon this shore.

The shore was filled with serenity
as the moonlight radiance glow,
When I heard her whisper softly
in my ears promises I never knew
have only faithless spirit and beauty
of a love and romance she bestow
that filled my heart with so much glee
that even the waves dances with joy
with the happiness that bewildered me
on that one lucky night upon this shore.

but now as I walk alone this beach
The waves seems come to me to fade
with lonely smile as they try to reach
and take back the footprints I laid
upon the shore once been the seat
of a love now only in memory be made
as teardrops in my eyes start to heat
and melt down again for a decade
of pain and agony as memory unseat
and keep on coming back like waves.

poem by Melvin Banggollay
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It's up to you for M lady Flora

The mist that crept in from the sea.
Advancing inexorably,
enveloped first the sandy beach.
Then well beyond the high tides reach

Invaded streets and avenues
the thoroughfares that people use.
To go about their business.
A wet and cold unpleasantness.

Which nobody had seen before
at least along that friendly shore.
Exuding sheer hostility
as if the demons of the sea.

Deciding that humanity.
had forfeited their right to be.
Had gathered there with one intent
to prove the sea omniscient.

The villagers were sore afraid
some cursed and swore while others prayed.
Though neither made much difference.
Against such mist there’s no defence.

The village disappeared from sight.
Hid by a mist as black as night.
When morning broke there was no one.
No body left to greet the sun.

Now to this day the village stands
although nobody understands.
What happened on that dreadful night
when the sea fret absorbed the light.

No one survived to tell the tale.
Enough to make the bravest quail.
Perhaps you think I’m telling lies
But you will find to your surprise.

If you should choose to visit me
from my front window you can see.
The evidence that what say
A village empty to this day.

Nobody dares to move into
the empty village and renew
a single house in which to live.
Because of legends kept alive.

By older folks who can recall
the night the demons came to call.
If you should wish to you could buy
the whole village and you could try.

To sell the houses one by one
if you’re convinced it can be done.
I think your work would be in vain
What happened once could come again.

To local folks it is taboo
and there is nothing you can do.
but try to sell to foreigners
Who do not know about the curse.

I own the site and I would sell
quite cheaply and I’d wish you well
If you’re prepared to take the chance
There’s been a change of circumstance.

For there are profits to be made.
Maybe the mist will not invade
maybe the tales I tell aren’t true
what you believe is up to you.

I am too old to change my ways
and I prefer to end my days
believing as I’ve always done.
This village should left alone.

24-Jul-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Love Is Passion / U Have to Sing It to Get It

love is passon love is true
love need to come and find you
whenever i'm on a walk i want to scream
and sout its another
lovely day in the naberhood
in the naboerhood
in the naboerhood
its another lovely day in the naborhood
in the naborhood
in the naborhood
its another lovely day in the naberhooooooooood
of paso rubles californa ooh yaaaaaaaaa
i want to come and hang it with my friends and me
with my friends and me
with my friends and me
i want to come and hang it with my friends and me
with my friends and me
with my friends and me
i want to come and hang it with my friends and meeeeeeee
have a picnic by the ocean shore i wan't it to be just me and you
just me and you
just me and you
have a picnic by the ocean shore i wan't it to be just me and you
just me and you
just me and you
have a picnic by the ocean shore i wan't it to be just me and yoooouuuu
its another lovely day by the beach and shore
by the beach and shore
by the beach and shore
its another lovely day by the beach and shore
by the beach and shore
by the beach and shore
its another lovely day by the beach and shooooorrrreee
of morrow bay
its a good life with my best friends and me
with my best friends and me
with my best friends and me
its a good life with my best friends and me
with my best friends and me
with my best friends and me
its a good life with my best friends and meeeeeeeeee
ooooooohhhhhhh yaaahhh
ok lets go its another lovely daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy! !
in the naboerhoooooooooooooooooood yah

by the way u have to sing it to get it ok thanks

poem by Valya Madden
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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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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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Galleon Of Gold

And as I watch the breaking dawn
The sun begins to rise,
Above the scarlet clouds within
The early morning skies,
And as another day begins
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

I head out on a journey now
Not knowing where to go,
Searching for the rainbow's end
That never seems to show,
No treasure lies within my hand
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

Through seas so rough and stormy and
The winds that blow so strong,
I'll try to find the answers now
To where it all went wrong,
I'll search to find my destiny
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

I'll find a way to happiness
And leave this stony shore,
And far behind the past shall stay
My future waits before,
The stars will be my guiding light
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Passive Resistance.

Beneath the sky, the restless sea
Was lapping at the shingle shore.
As it had often done before.
The shingle resists stubbornly.
It won't surrender easily.
And when tide ebbs will restore
The pebbles from its endless store.
Kept in reserve permanently.
The shingle beach lies passively
The sea is forced to come and go.
Although it act aggressively
When the tide is in full flow.
It will retreat reluctantly
When tidal energy runs low.

Wednesday,29 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Beachcombing

As the tide retreats, it leaves behind
Once hidden treasures, for folk to find.
Left revealed, is a long strip of shiny, wet sand,
Where treasures, now at their journey’s end, will land.

By the sea, small pieces of glass have been ground,
Leaving their once sharp edges, smooth and round.
There are a few fallen feathers from visiting gulls.
Smooth, egg-shaped pebbles – both shiny and dull.

Shells of all shapes, such as cones, conches, and scallops,
Are washed ashore by the powerful sea, as it gallops.
There are lions’ paws, kings’ crowns, tulips, angel wings,
Slipper shells, jewel boxes, moon snails and other things.

Sugar Kelp, Bladderwrack and Dead Man’s Fingers,
Are some of the seaweeds which, on the shore, linger.
The sight of numerous pieces of discarded litter,
Leaves behind a taste, in my mouth, that is bitter.

Pieces of driftwood, many with interesting shapes,
From the endlessly shifting sea, make their escape.
If, along a sandy beach, you take a relaxing wander,
There are many treasures on which you can ponder.

Folk can while away many an hour of pleasure,
Sifting amongst all the newly arrived treasure.
An hour or two spent exploring a sandy cove,
Can potentially reveal a whole treasure trove.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Silence Oceans

Oceans of life,
Oceans in one's life
are wonderful,
Heart is one ocean
Brain is another ocean,
mind is the third,
Trifles are fourth,
Intelligence and wit make fifth,
wisdom and knowledge sixth,
God and Love are seventh!
Soul is the land,
Raised above these oceans
And look as their shore,
Every instant a wave of thought hits the shore!

High tides of happiness,
low tides of sorrow,
High tides of success,
Low tides of failure hit the shore!

Ego is that wind blowing,
Desires and pride are changing gravity
cause wave and tide!
Sometimes disappointment,
Or hurt ego,
can create storm and tsunami!

Silence in solitude,
become grand solitude,
Takes one to that altitude,
everything is cool in love and gratitude,
Peace incarnate in multitude,
In that great solitude,

When wind stops,
and become still,
When there is no movement Of Sun and Moon,
When everything comes to still,

No waves, no tides,
ocean meets shore, all in love,
No raising or falling tides,
No roar of chasing waves,
That is that grand silence,
Silence of All oceans,
When no bird fly or sing,
When no events,
they are
Time's own parents,
And time give birth to
Three tenses,
Past and future
compress the present,
Now lose pressure,
Present expands to eternal!

All merge in present
One is present in present tense only,
Both presence and absence,
Merge in that grand existence,
That is the grand silence,
That is the solitude,
Where no one to disturb,
Nothing can disturb,
Soul is immersed in the universal soul,
Mind goes out of universe and sees the grand truth,
Truth is that truth,
no false can never reach,
No false can never touch,
Universe infinite is not even atomic,
Because mind itself has grown,
fantastic and gigantic,
No atlantic, no antarctic,
Only ocean remains,
peaceful pacific
No reason to love,
No reason to hate,
No one can touch,
No arms can harm,
Listen to that drummer,
Beats drum continuously,
AUM AUM AUM,
Now in that silence of absolute solitude,
No drum, no AUM,
No drummer,
No judge's hammer,
No eternal vibration,
As one become one's own master!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Summer Mood

BUT wait. Let each by each the days pass by,
One faded and one blown like summer flowers;
What need of hope, with summer in the sky?
What of regret, with all fair morrows ours?
If yesterday be gone,No reck, 'twas not alone,
To-morrow will have just so sweet long hours.
But yet to-day is sweetest till 'tis flown.

But wait. Let summer day be changed from day,
Like following surges of the ebb and flow;
And flow brings breath of saltness and blithe spray,
And ebb long music of seas plashing low.
The waves, stolen out of reach
,Have no farewell for speech;
Next tide will roll as swift, as rippling go.
And yet 'tis now that's best along the beach.

Ah wait. The while we linger our lives live,
Our summer ripens purpose through our dreams;
Flower-petals fallen leave a seed to thrive,
Spent tides heap treasures from the deep sea streams;
Now drifts by unaware,
And Afterwards is heir;
To-morrow wins the wealth of yester gleams.
Yet 'tis to-day that summer makes most fair.

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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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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Under A Blanket Of Stars

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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I Am The Beach...