The Sea has Many Moods
poetry in progress
the sea has many moods
you need more than one
canvas to paint them all
and an imagination cresting
like waves sweeping onto shores
the sea has many moods
it presents dawn with
streaks of luminous hope
and slowly breaks through
the menacing bleakness of night
to give us a new day -
a fresh new born, his eyes
gleaming like angel and that
first cry which opens to us
a new terrace for love - a chill
that slowly builds into a warmth
between us knowing that it
is a blessing from beyond
- tears or cheers
the sea has many moods
you need to see them all
to portray them on your canvas
there is a hint of melancholy
especially after a tempest when the beach
is strewn with all things from the
bowels of the sea; old coins,
broken porcelains, dead little turtles,
wine bottles that have crossed continents,
one shoe, slipper, sandal like partners
lost in war, and shells of all kinds,
some shining with a strain of hynotism
you wish they have not been torn
by the force of the sea
bits and pieces of everything here and
there to remind us of how life can be
as turbulent when the mighty tide works against us
the sea has many moods
you have to live by one to
experience them all
the cheers that brighten up the day
when every beach feels like a fresh
new summer, another mediterranean
the waves gallop like horses on
an an emerald to take us to their
adventures of mermaids in love,
of palace made of beautiful corals,
of gold and diamonds in sunken ships,
of romances, of aliens, of
finding a new angle to life,
so that the past is just another
wave disappearing on the beach
to recharge the self that has been
left to vegetate and muffled
in the race for survival
the sea has many moods
you need more than one canvas
to paint them all
the tide turns low on some days
enabling walks on seabed, and
to the next shore, before inch
by inch, the tide starts coming in
water swirling like a man sipping
and blowing onto his tea, inch by inch
like a hungry animal, the sea starts to
swallow up old territories as its own,
and in such haste, rage and chagrin,
one hour is all it needs to take it all in
there are those who, lost in their fun,
forget about the tide and are trapped
and swept away forever remaining on the
chiling and heartwrenching lost-at-sea list
walking the seabed is a walk through
the backstage of a theatre
you see all the theatrics of the sea
anemones in a range of red stick
their heads out on the sand like a vulgar thing
and here and there are broken corals
after having served as colourful dancers swaying
gracefully and serenading fishes
now with faded lustre they surrender to their fate
on the sand, a mound here and there
in the rhythm of the waves
as you walk, a pensive mood envelops you, a peace
and a quiet you dont savour on ordinary days by the beach
the wind feels like God caressing and whispering
to you his story of creation, his joy when everything is over
so that you can walk on a seabed to take it all in
the sea may be rough but it too, affords a time
and a space when it bares all to help you meditate on
its enlightened side, something it does not unveil to us
unless the tide takes an all about turn to the sea
it is a blessing for those who happen to chance
upon it and take it to its full advantage
the sea has many moods
you have to live by one to see them all
there are one thousand and one creatures
who are ever ready to share with you their fun
tenants of the white sand, sea, and breeze
and an occasional full moon, oh no two moons
the plovers and starfishes are friends
coral fishes sprint to and fro under a branch
waiting for the tide to ferry them out
mudskippers hop on the tail of the waves
like clowns at a circus, a head so huge and two short fins
one wonders how they anchor themselves so well at sea
little crabs run the lightness of breeze
and here and there little holes that gently
remind me of the tenants with claws
they are all so round these crabs
of orange, brown, green, yellow must have
been well trained by the divinity of their task
a conical shell is a soul in medtiation
an ear listening to its own sacred calling
seaweeds paint some parts a bright green
while an outcast the jellyfish is always
a sorry affair, sprawled and helpless
its see-through mass of shrunken body
transmit a fetid scent no one would love to have
children are told not to play around with them
as the toxins in the soft textured creature
can be just the opposite of its appearance
starfishes
like the setting sun over the hill
that turn the whole
like the poet swept with
a hope for that
one poem that would land
on the print to meet all
the sea has many moods
you have live by her to
see them all
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
There Is The Mood Of A Poem For This Night
THERE IS THE MOOD OF A POEM FOR THIS NIGHT
There is the mood of a poem for this night
There is the mood of a love from long ago
That is forever lost-
There is a mood of a too rainy and too cold night
There is a mood of more inside than saying can mean-
There is a mood of many things-
And all these moods are not one mood
And yet in me now largely indescribable-
For there is a mood which takes the person away
Into a land of dreams and beyond
And another mood and another poem
Which simply stays where it is
In longing for itself-
So while I have many moods
And may write many poems of those moods
I know that there is no mood tonight
Which is the one and only one love
I would always have-
And no mood which can say again
All that a person may have when young
And never know again in old age-
There is a mood of being forever sad and forever regretful-
But considering how much Beauty life has
And how many different ways there are of finding it
I will listen to the music of the light tonight
And hear the poetry of many great souls
And in a mood of joy
Quietly go to rest
As if happiness really were the mood beyond and within everything.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Mood Colours
At times, we describe our moods in colours
that pass by our eyes each day.
There are our blue moods,
those when we are down.
Then there are our red moods
whenever our temper flares.
Our black moods are colourless
and the most dangerous of them all.
Our sunshine moods are when the world is golden
and smiles are all we see.
Pink shades our loving moods
and to the world, we show we care
as our love shines through.
Our moods can change quickly
as we pass through the rainbow spectrum
within our daily lives.
15 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Table Bay [2]
I can hear the waves roar,
slamming shingle on the rocks, the beach
drawing in and out
on Bloubergstrand
and the cadence is a age old shuddering
of waves breaking, continuing like before
and in the distance Table Bay
lies stretched out specked with
hundreds of little lights
like a enormous crown
with the flat mountain top
on display, etched against the night sky
and its full tide, the moon is full
yellow and magnificent
and the place of good hope,
lies on the shore
with waves breaking forever more
and lonely the beach stretches out before me,
in a long white ribbon
and the dark water goes out to the horizon,
almost as far as I can see
and the sea wind is fresh and new
and there's no light in sight
on the wavering ocean
just a darkness that envelopes me
as the waves
are throwing pebbles out
and drawing them in
before breaking on the beach
and there's nobody to be true to,
nobody to trust, only the reality of the here and now
and all hope, all promises, all joy and pain
remains the same
swept in and out of a confused world
forever breaking, forever rushing in.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Love Letters
As
children
we played
on the
beach.
gathering
shells
for our
collections.
Leaving
love
let ters
in the
sand.
the tide
rushed
in
many times
lately
I returned
seeking
the
letters.
for some
reason
they could
not be
found.
the beach
a blank
slate.
an angry
tide had
rushed in
destroying
our love
letters.
forever
lost in
the sand.
poem by Heather Burns
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When I walk om Margate’s beach
When I walk om Margate’s beach
something is caught,
in the sound of the breaking waves
and it echoes there forever more.
The beach is wiped clear
by the rushing waters
of the high tide,
but somehow footprints
walk the beach
as if they were just set there.
In the pleasant summer
golden bodies spreads
right around me
and the waves,
are filled with children
splashing and laughing
at the joy of living.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Legend of the Sea
Many years ago
A story was told to me
About a mighty Triton
And his Goddess of the sea
~~~~~~*****~~~~~~
Two sweethearts met upon the shore
Touching ~ holding hands
Speaking softly as they left
Their footprints in the sand
A kiss they shared ~ so tenderly
Love shone with golden light
Enraptured in the setting sun
Souls filled with sweet delight
Wind whispered low ~ to the surging tide
As it edged ~ ever so near
To join the lovers standing close
Not seeing the waves appear
With gentle flow ~ the cunning tide
Moved across the land
To capture the magic essence
Of love's spirit in the sand
The tide ~ it made a mighty surge
And pulled the lovers out to sea
As they held tightly to each other
Their love tossed ~ through eternity
Now through the years ~ a legend grew
About these lovers in the sand
And how the sea did claim them
For it desired their love so grand
On evening tide ~ so many say
If you walk down by the sea
You'll see the golden lovers
Frolicking ~ wild and free
It's said the sea was jealous
For a love that could not be
And the lovers became immortal
With the greatest love you'll ever see
Yes, he is the mighty Triton
She is his Goddess of the sea
And they will stay among the waves
In love ~ for eternity....
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Endless Sea
By the sea she dreams in quiet longing
Sea gulls fly free, clouds drift with out care
Waves swell and playfully role
I see her from a far, the beach is ours
Blue skies shine on golden sand
The season for love has finally arrived
Her hair falls down in the morning sun
Her soft eyes look far into the distant sea
I can't keep from watching her
Foot prints in the sand, sea weed, shells
Feel the sensual sun warm the salty air
The universe is alive, sea gulls glide free
The sea is a great comfort to her
Flowing waves bring a sense of calm
She smiles and slowly walks on the sand
Is love a sea where the soul feels hope?
Drift wood washes a shore
Mystery, enchantment, romance,
She puts her feet into the cool water
Tides roll and splash her body
Renewal, revival, mystical gentle asylum
Blue green waves shimmer with light
ever changing boundless energy
Myth, pirates, discovery, mermaids
Shall I approach you? Who are you?
I sit in silent delight in awe
Are you a poem I like but do not understand?
Strangers in the sunlight and soft wind
Wondering about life, love and meaning
The great mystic sea unites us
The shoreline seems endless
Ships in the distance seem small
The sea is our friend, a lovely dream
Eternity in moments by the sea fill her eyes
Ancient visions visit open hearts and minds
We are quiet lovers listening to the ebbing tide
We are drawn to the sea to learn of love
We drink from Neptune's great cup
Serene wisdom teaches us peace
Shadows grow, the wind is starting to blow
Day turns to dusk and it is time to go
I will see you again my dear by the endless sea
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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A Bright Sky
I walk down the beach in the beaming sun,
My feet sink into the sand, gently,
My hair is swept backwards as the warm breeze hits it,
Suddenly I turn around and everything is opposite,
My hair is swept backwards as the cool breeze hits it,
I feel as though I walk above the sand,
And I walk back down the beach in the night,
I look up and all I can see is darkness,
The night sky is lit by the moon and the stars,
It’s a bright sky.
poem by Sophie Shaw
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The Stranded Ship: (The “Vincennes”)
’Twas the glowing log of a picnic fire where a red light should not be,
Or the curtained glow of a sick room light in a window that faced the sea.
But the Manly lights seemed the Sydney lights, and the bluffs as the “Heads” were seen;
And the Manly beach was the channel then—and the captain steered between.
The croakers said with a shoulder shrug, and a careless, know-all glance:
“You might pull out her stem, or pull out her stern—but she’ll sail no more for France!”
Her stem was dry when the tide was out, and behind her banked the sand,
Where strong gales come from the Hurricane east and the sun sets on the land.
When the tide was high and the rollers struck she shuddered as if in pain,
She had no hope for the open sea and the fair full breeze again.
She turned her side to the pounding seas and the foam glared over the rails,
It seemed her fate to be sold and stripped, and broken by winter gales.
But they sent strong gear, and they sent the gangs, and they sent her a man who knew,
And the tugs came nosing round from the Heads to see what a tug could do;
The four-ton anchors they laid to sea in the waves and the wind and rain,
And the great steel hawser they hove aboard made fast to her cable chain.
And then, while the gaping townsfolk stared from the shining beach in doubt,
The crew and the shore-gangs lowered her yards and they hove the ballast out.
(To lie like a strange sea-grave upheaved on the smooth sand by her side)
And they made all ready and clear for the tugs to come on the rising tide.
And so, in the night when the tide was in and a black sky hid the stars,
The shoremen worked at the jumping winch and the crew at the capstan bars.
To seaward the two tugs rose and fell in their own wild stormy glare
And her head came round for a fathom’s length! for a mighty heave was there.
So, tide by tide, and yard by yard, they hove her off the shore
To fit, and load for her ports of call, and to sail for France once more.
Till at last she came with the wild blind rush of a frightened thing set free,
And they towed her round to the Sydney Heads and in from the stormy sea.
And the croakers say, when a man is down, with a shrug and a know-all glance,
Oh, he’ll never get out of the gutter again, he has done with every chance;
But we’ll “haul and heave on the block and sheeve”, wave-beaten and black-rock hemmed,
And we’ll sail with cargoes that they shall buy, when their ships are all condemned.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Lovers On A Beach
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two naked hands lay on the sand
When all the world was out of reach
Through the shuttered doors
The music filtered through
Playing on a theme that couldnt run
Lovers on a shore
Lovers on a shore
The heavy wine of broken time
But now theyre gone its nothing more
Looking back on days
When summer seemed so long
Now theres only winter nights to come
And oh - sometimes shes missing you
She hears the shore
She feels it more
And out there the waves are breaking
Back here her heart is aching
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two silhouettes were on a shore
But now theyre lost and out of reach
Now on lonely roads
The flashbacks lead to you
Like a faded photograph in time
Oh lovers (lovers, lovers, lovers, lovers...)
And oh just as shes missing you
She hears the shore
She feels it more
And out there the waves are breaking
Back here her heart is aching
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Two naked hands theyre on the sand
When all the world was out of reach
Lovers on a beach
Lovers on a beach
Lovers
Lovers
Lovers on a beach
Lovers
Lovers
Lovers
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire and Ice Nature
Day and night poles apart flaming flame
Moods of the contrast to carry here on
Flowing their times until they are done
Something of feral for life to tame
Sunshine brings day but moon gleams the twilight
The moods to the dreams and fun at the sea
Everything's turning epoch's to be
Glowing of evenings and stars in bright
Icily cold till spring is green and tanned
With precious small flowers some blue and red
And golden sunshine from pure azure sky
Each wave from deep oceans on black beach sand
Weaving erosion to wilderness bed
To this fire and ice nature I can't say goodbye
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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A Walk On The Beach
At your side, I will stand, together we'll walk, through the sand. With the setting sun, and a summer breeze, reflecting our love, on the open seas. A walk on the beach, I will share, hand in hand, we walk with care. Making our hearts, strong and brave, along with the passions, of thee ocean waves. Together in love, our souls will teach, and guide our future, as we walk on the beach. For I am in love...
poem by William Breland
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Another Near To Perfect Day
In the sky the sun brightly shining the blue sky with some clouds of gray
On an afternoon in late October another near to perfect day
The white surf waves are gently rolling one reason no surfer in sight
And the silver gulls on the white beach search for food in the warm sunlight
An artist may well sketch such beauty and writers about it may write
By the coastal town on the surf beach there is beauty in peace and quiet
Today the ocean is not roaring no big waves for surfers to ride
The waves on the beach gently lapping so timid the sea at low tide
In the park the magpie larks calling the only notes they sing pee wee
And wattlebirds on the flowering coastal banksias their harsh calls familiar to me
On a beautiful day in the Springtime of around 24 degrees
And there is a cool sort of freshness in the cool freshening coastal breeze
Save for the silver gulls the beach is deserted and so clean is the fresh coastal air
A good memory to keep and to cherish and a good memory with others to share.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Working Metaphore
Work is like an island in an ocean of time
Landing on this shore felt like paradise
But the island is small and quickly grows boring
I am standing in the water, looking out as I work
Time passes in portions of half an hour
Wave upon wave of life slipping down the tide-line
I am deciding whether to let go and wash away with it
Or hold on and climb the beach again
How many islands are in this ocean?
I gaze out and see a few just waiting for me
Can I swim to them, will they take me?
In the water between them, is there love lurking?
Changes are on the horizon, as a tsunami
Rolling towards this island invisibly, towards me
None of the islands will survive it, I fear
Or maybe only I will be washed away into oblivion
Tick, splash, tick, splash, wave upon wave of half hours
Carrying me just a little further from the dry sand
Behind me, the managers are calling from the trees
I hesitate for a moment, and let the waves wash over me
Only a few more, and I can swim for a while,
I might ride the changes to a far away place if I'm swimming
In the water I can meet another, to drown my regrets of the last
The waves wash over me, and I wait for the tide to swim
poem by Poet Dragon
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Hurricane Watch
Green. Green the leaves,
and waves gray on the forehead of the beach.
As easy as breeze tensing lengths of hair
waves lift, then snap back like springs.
Trees bend and kneel, fling out brown arms
to catch their running children.
Green. Green the leaves, and wind
pours on the forehead of the beach.
See how sand wrinkles in the lee,
and anchors part like lovers
from invisible chains. Ships break
then run their length to freedom.
Green. Green the weeds,
and sea foams on the forehead of the beach.
Women’s names swim to greet the waves.
And sea sings, “Eve. Eve. Eve.” Mermaid
who set her cap for them, she beckons each
figurehead to her pale and smiling reach.
Green. Green the waves,
and spray glistening on the forehead of the beach.
Her arms catch and embrace hulls like shoulders.
Bold as dolphins they leap to her lips before she
slaps away the face of any sailor so foolish.
Gray. Gray the waves, and flotsam
in pieces grinding on the wet stones of the beach.
poem by Val Morehouse
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People Who Live
People who live by the sea
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.
They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.
Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.
poem by Erica Jong
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Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Down to the beach
On a sunny day we go
Beach bags packed with sun screen lotions
Hands rubbing people’s backs in slow motion
Glistening oily bodies radiating with sensation
Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Where a chilly sea breeze blows
Let’s have some fun
In the red-hot sun
Down to the beach
Only there the ladies reveal saucy behinds
Whenever the raging sun is still kind
Down to the beach
As never-ceasing waves play across the shores
People happily play dreading any rainy downpour
Down to the beach
Where young lovers closely nestle
As sand creatures cause the sand to bristle
Seagulls gliding in the air with screams and whistles
Kids picking up shells and building stormy sand castles
Down to the beach
Where mostly good vibes flow
Down to the beach
We go whilst there is still sun without snow
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Ocean Breeze
As I look out at the ocean
As I drive down the coast,
All I can see is a little bit of white and the rest nothing but blue,
Only thing that this scene can bring is nothing bad, but to boast.
By this bringing nothing, but the deep beauty to me and you.
Enjoying everything such as the white waves crashing into the rocks at the ocean,
And feeling the Ocean Breeze as it shot past us further than anything else can reach.
This is when all you can hear is nothing but water as it is motion.
Causing me to want get out of the car and walk down on the beach,
And to the foam builds up as the wave starts to hits its crest.
As the beach sand stuck to the bottom of my feet,
Or as I stopped and dug down in the sand to search for that sunken treasure chest.
Feeling that wave
Or as it knocked you over down on your seat.
This something that a lot of people will never hear or see.
And this is why the Ocean Breeze and Scene means so much me
By Frank Pulver
poem by Frank Pulver
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The Song of Tigilau
The song of Tigilau the brave,
Sina's wild lover,
Who across the heaving wave
From Samoa came over:
Came over, Sina, at the setting moon!
The moon shines round and bright;
She, with her dark-eyed maidens at her side,
Watches the rising tide.
While balmy breathes the starry southern night,
While languid heaves the lazy southern tide;
The rising tide, O Sina, and the setting moon!
The night is past, is past and gone,
The moon sinks to the West,
The sea-heart beats opprest,
And Sina's passionate breast
Heaves like the sea, when the pale moon has gone,
Heaves like the passionate sea, Sina, left by the moon alone!
Silver on silver sands, the rippling waters meet --
Will he come soon?
The rippling waters kiss her delicate feet,
The rippling waters, lisping low and sweet,
Ripple with the tide,
The rising tide,
The rising tide, O Sina, and the setting moon!
He comes! -- her lover!
Tigilau, the son of Tui Viti.
Her maidens round her hover,
The rising waves her white feet cover.
O Tigilau, son of Tui Viti,
Through the mellow dusk thy proas glide,
So soon!
So soon by the rising tide,
The rising tide, my Sina, and the setting moon!
The mooring-poles are left,
The whitening waves are cleft,
By the prows of Tui Viti!
By the sharp keels of Tui Viti!
Broad is the sea, and deep,
The yellow Samoans sleep,
But they will wake and weep --
Weep in their luxurious odorous vales,
While the land breeze swells the sails
Of Tui Viti!
Tui Viti -- far upon the rising tide,
The rising tide --
The rising tide, my Sina, beneath the setting moon!
She leaps to meet him!
Her mouth to greet him
Burns at his own.
Away! To the canoes,
To the yoked war canoes!
The sea in murmurous tone
Whispers the story of their loves,
Re-echoes the story of their loves --
The story of Tui Viti,
Of Sina and Tui Viti,
By the rising tide,
The rising tide, Sina, beneath the setting moon!
She has gone!
She has fled!
Sina!
Sina, for whom the warriors decked their shining hair,
Wreathing with pearls their bosoms brown and bare,
Flinging beneath her dainty feet
Mats crimson with the feathers of the parrakeet.
Ho, Samoans! rouse your warriors full soon,
For Sina is across the rippling wave,
With Tigilau, the bold and brave.
Far, far upon the rising tide!
Far upon the rising tide!
Far upon the rising tide, Sina, beneath the setting moon.
poem by Marcus Clarke
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