Lukannon
I met my mates in the morning (and oh, but I am old!)
Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled;
I heard them lift the chorus that dropped the breakers' song --
The beaches of Lukannon -- two million voices strong!
The song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons,
The song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes,
The song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame --
The beaches of Lukannon -- before the sealers came!
I met my mates in the morning (I'll never meet them more!);
They came and went in legions that darkened all the shore.
And through the foam-flecked offing as far as voice could reach
We hailed the landing-parties and we sang them up the beach.
The beaches of Lukannon -- the winter-wheat so tall --
The dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all!
The platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn!
The beaches of Lukannon -- the home where we were born!
I meet my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band.
Men shoot us in the water and club us on the land;
Men drive us to the Salt House like silly sheep and tame,
And still we sing Lukannon -- before the sealers came.
Wheel down, wheel down to southward; oh, Gooverooska go!
And tell the Deep-Sea Viceroys! the story of our woe;
Ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ashore,
The beaches of Lukannon shall know their sons no more!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
Dream of fog and mist (if you can)
If you can…
Dream of beaches
Dream of fog
that slides ashore
And If you can…
Learn what it teaches
Before the fog returns
To the sea once more
Dream of yardarms…
Of dripping rigging
Of treasure chests
Just ripe for digging
Dream of islands
With crystal sand
With coral reefs
And mountains grand
Dream of fog and mist
Mugs of rum…
Of frigate birds…
Of hawsers thrum
Of cool sea breezes
From exotic land
In sleep…dream deep…
Dream of beaches…
…If you can…
poem by David Whalen
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As Good as New
OH, this is a song of the old lights, that came to my heart like a hymn;
And this is a song for the old lights—the lights that we thought grew dim,
That came to my heart to comfort me, and I pass it along to you;
And here is a hand to the good old friend who turns up as good as new.
And this is a song for the camp-fire out west where the stars shine bright—
Oh, this is a song for the camp-fire where the old mates yarn to-night;
Where the old mates yarn of the old days, and their numbers are all too few,
And this is a song for the good old times that will turn up as good as new.
Oh, this is a song for the old foe—we have both grown wiser now,
And this is a song for the old foe, and we’re sorry we had that row;
And this is a song for the old love—the love that we thought untrue—
Oh, this is a song of the dear old love that comes back as good as new.
Oh, this is a song for the black sheep, for the black sheep that fled from town,
And this is a song for the brave heart, for the brave heart that lived it down;
And this is a song for the battler, for the battler who sees it through—
And this is a song for the broken heart that turns up as good as new.
Ah, this is a song for the brave mate, be he Bushman, Scot, or Russ,
A song for the mates we will stick to—for the mates who have stuck to us;
And this is a song for the old creed, to do as a man should do,
Till the Lord takes us all to a wider world—where we’ll turn up as good as new.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Honeyed
with all that i said
've melted the ice cream star
what bows and arrows
feeling inside my tree
with all early ones
miserable ice beaches
still standing still
mysterious beaches...
my pulmonary soul
on orange juice shelves...
with all i need
yellowish silence...
what a stone skin
lies beneath...
all mysterious beaches
covered by my eyes...
all the honey wants
mysterious niches...
(15 July 2008)
poem by Selenaru Negrea
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Eyes Of The World
Right outside this lazy summer home
You aint got time to call your soul a critic no.
Right outside the lazy gate of winters summer home,
Wondrin where the nut-thatch winters,
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
There comes a redeemer, and he slowly too fades away,
And there follows his wagon behind him thats loaded with clay.
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay,
And night comes so quiet, its close on the heels of the day.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own,
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home,
Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone,
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music And Song
To song and to music people dance along
And life all the better for music and song
When the musicians play and the singers do sing
Great joy to so many they always do bring
Music and song belongs to all people not to any one race
And amongst every culture commands a high place
From the North to the South Pole from Brazil to France
To song and to music people inspired to dance
The gifts of the gods to humanity
Without song and music far worse off we would be
To every tune ever born there's a song to be sung
And music and song are for the old and the young
They were born as soul mates and as soul mates they remain
And for music and song let us hear it again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Unchanging
Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing
From the immense blue circle of the sea,
And the soft thunder where long waves whiten --
These were the same for Sappho as for me.
Two thousand years -- much has gone by forever,
Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men --
But here on the beaches that time passes over
The heart aches now as then.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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While in Goa!
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Everyone dreams of the times to visit
A journey off the sun into a cool spirit
Pleasing is your weather which calmness teaches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Breeze of the coconut trees within a mile
The sea has an instinct of sudden smile
Healing of the shore offers gathering of riches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
poem by by unknown author
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Footprints
Footprints in the sand
As deep as they might be
Will someday be washed away
By the wind or by the sea.
The footprints have been placed
Upon the beaches sand
In memory of a creature
Proclaiming Himself as Man.
I followed this set of footprints
Placed upon the beaches Earth
To find out where Man had gone to,
And to find out His Earthly worth.
Many of the footprints were deep,
Placed upon the beaches sand,
From the troubles that Man had kept
With memories held in His hand.
And the footprints, that were placed wide
They were many upon the beach,
Were they from the trouble that Man did hide,
Or was it from happiness, that was out of reach.
And then as I noticed in front of me
The footprints were swept away,
Man again was forgotten
Until He returned another day.
Then I looked behind me,
I saw my footprints in the sand
And I know someone will follow them
While wondering, who was this Man.
Had my footprints been placed deep,
Or were they placed apart very wide,
Will they wondered if I ever laughed,
Or if I cried, from sorrows I couldn't hide.
So I closed my eyes and I wondered
About the footprints that I had placed
Someday, will Man He follow them,
While believing my life a waste.
So I continued my walk upon the beach,
I was a very joyful and happy Man,
I left my sorrow and trouble behind me,
In my footprints in the sand.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Beaches
South Padre Island,
Ranks among the best.
South Beach,
And those along Key West...
Are favorite beaches,
I am blessed to have witnessed.
Long Beach and along the Pacific Coast...
Breathtaking are these scenic views,
With a temptation to remove one's shoes!
And the cruiseway connecting Tampa and Clearwater...
Ought to be outlawed for providing too much beauty!
And Ogunquit needs to stop it!
It's magnificence really is an eye popper!
Cape Cod and Pebble Beach.
I've tossed and turned...
Thinking about them in my sleep!
These beaches that grace our wonderful shores...
Should be visited for their exquisiteness.
If anyone believes,
Their lives are boring beyond their doors.
There is so much to explore and see.
Just sitting quietly on these beaches...
And letting one's imagination stretch and reach!
Like the cresting of the waves...
Massaging the sands.
As Seagulls dip for fish,
While the lilting fingers felt from breezes...
Display a coolness beneath Sun rays,
Quickly drying ocean mist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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California Girls
Beach Boys song did have it right
'Wish they all could be California girls'
Daytime beaches and bars by night
No sifted pebbles to find these pearls
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Beaches Of Cheyenne
They packed up all his buckles
And shipped his saddle to his dad
And by the way the house looked
She must have took it bad.
The workers come on monday
To fix the door and patch the wall.
They say she just went crazy
The night she got the call.
He was up in wyoming
And drew a bull no man could ride.
He promised her hed turn out
Well it turned out that he lied.
And their dreams that theyd been livin
In the california sand
Died right there beside him in cheyenne.
(chorus)
They she just went crazy
Screamin out his name
She ran out into the ocean
And to this day they claim
That if you go down by the water
Youll see her footprints in the sand
cause every night she walks the beaches of cheyenne.
They never found her body
Just her diary by her bed
It told about the fight they had
And the words that she had said.
When he told her he was ridin
She said then I dont give a damn
If you never come back from cheyenne.
*chorus*
Nobody can explain it
Some say shes still alive
They even claim theyve seen her
On the shoreline late at night.
So if you go down by the water
Youll see her footprints in the sand
cause every night she walks the beaches of cheyenne.
Every night she walks the beaches of cheyenne.
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Warrnambool City
In the coastal City known as Warrnambool
In the Winter you can swim in the heated swimming pool
And in Summer there's surfing and swimming and other good fun
As well as sunbathing in the lamp of the sun
Some beautiful beaches by the big coastal Town
But it is not for such Warrnambool knows of renown
But for it's friendly people on every street
Happy and smiling faces you are bound to meet
The population of Warrnambool in numbers has grown
And as a multicultural Rural City it is now well known
The Capital of south west Victoria Warrnambool by the sea
A welcoming Town for many a refugee
In it's parks and beaches Nature's beauty to behold
In a great City to live in for the young and the old.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dreams to Nightmares
I stare at the wall and close my eyes
I started to dream about parts of the world
Beaches to oceans to schools of fish
My dreams turn to nightmares after awhile
The cool, damp beach where sand comes to rest
The emptiness in the pastel blue sky
The sand placed perfectly in place
The smell of salt water against the shore
The crystal clear ocean calm as can be
The current not even moving sea life
Fish eating at the bottom by the sand
The sound of calm waves hitting the shore
The colorful fish ranging from green to blue
Fish from all different sizes
The sound of fish jumping out of the ocean
They swim without a government to follow
The beaches turn to cemeteries
The oceans turn dark gray, and fish floating dead
The sky black as can be with flashes of light
You wake up realizing life is so much different
poem by Kasondra Sytnik
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In The Darkness I Got Up
(after Breyten Breytenbach)
In the darkness I got up
saw you in the rays of the moon
while the gulls was screeching endlessly outside
with some flying to the endless ocean
and the yesterdays disappeared with every morning,
night fled away before each day's sunshine
with our being together
that came as a kind of healing for any previous pain
and on the far road that we have been travelling on
things were now wide and open,
while I read true love in your eyes,
healing for every fear and endless hope,
we went pass every horizon
with days going on and on
and your dreams also became mine
while nothing could hinder us
with the milk white beaches that stretched out around us
you told me your deepest secrets,
your tongue braided intimately around mine,
continuously we courted each other
while my verses went through to your depths,
each new morning brought hope and more love
that captured us again with each other,
with joy that we found in the smallest thing
while the sea threw out shells endlessly on the beaches,
the wind and sea everywhere scattered sand
it felt if every day was summer,
you were suntanned, far past being only lovely.
[Reference: 'the cup of words' by Breyten Breytenbach.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Song of Death
Old Woman Census-taker,
Death the Trickster,
when you're going along,
don't you meet my baby.
Sniffing at newborns,
smelling for the milk,
find salt, find cornmeal,
don't find my milk.
Anti-Mother of the world,
People-Collector -
on the beaches and byways,
don't meet that child.
The name he was baptized,
that flower he grows with,
forget it, Rememberer.
Lose it, Death.
Let wind and salt and sand
drive you crazy, mix you up
so you can't tell
East from West,
or mother from child,
like fish in the sea.
And on the day, at the hour,
find only me.
poem by Gabriela Mistral
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Gotta Go Home
Headin for the islands
Were ready man and packed to go
When we hit those islands
Theres gonna be a big hello
Diggin all the sunshine
Its easy not to say goodbye
Bye bye bye
Headin for the islands
Heyeah, were really flyin high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
Walkin down the beaches
Tomorrow mornin well be there
Golden sandy beaches
Say, I can smell the breezy air
One more celebration
And then were ready for goodbye
Bye, bye,bye
Walkin down the beaches
Heyeah, were really flyin high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
...
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
...
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mansions In Heaven
Written by John Mellencamp
The old paper mill stinks up the beaches
As I walk along the ocean shore.
I'm just a plain man, thoughts full of creases,
Haven't accomplished much, but I dream of more.
Mansions in heaven, I see myself walking with the King.
The angels are descending to wrap me up in red velveteen.
I don't control much of my home life,
I'm not an old man but I'm not young anymore.
Haven't kept in contact with any of my good friends,
So I live with strangers and sleep on another man's floor.
Mansions in heaven, I see myself walking with the King.
The angels are descending to wrap me up in red velveteen.
As I pack my suit bag 'cause soon I'll be leaving,
Going back to the earth which is where I come from.
Withstood the heartache,
Kept on believing,
It ain't winning or losing
Just the singing of the song.
Mansions in heaven, I see myself walking with the King.
Mansions in heaven.
The old paper mill stinks up the beaches
As I walk along the ocean shore.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song To A Seagull
Fly silly seabird
No dreams can possess you
No voices can blame you
For sun on your wings
My gentle relations
Have names they must call me
For loving the freedom
Of all flying things
My dreams with the seagulls fly
Out of reach out of cry
I came to the city
And lived like old crusoe
On an island of noise
In a cobblestone sea
And the beaches were concrete
And the stars paid a light bill
And the blossoms hung false
On their store window trees
My dreams with the seagulls fly
Out of reach out of cry
Out of the city
And down to the seaside
To sun on my shoulders
And wind in my hair
But sandcastles crumble
And hunger is human
And humans are hungry
For worlds they cant share
My dreams with the seagulls fly
Out of reach out of cry
I call to a seagull
Who dives to the waters
And catches his silver-fine
Dinner alone
Crying where are the footprints
That danced on these beaches
And the hands that cast wishes
That sunk like a stone
My dreams with the seagulls fly
Out of reach out of cry
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Trip
As me and my best friend load the truck,
We leave our worries behind in Myrtle Beach
We pass the 'Now leaving South Caroline' and the 'Now entering North Carolina' sign
We see beaches with kids hunting fireflies
We see cats and dogs sleeping under trees in the cool summer air
As the sun sets over the horizon, we notice the sunset
Heaven is claiming spirits from recent deaths
As morning approaches, we trudge to the shore and look for shark teeth in the shallow water
We see lake Huron and as we're finishing our book and trip we see the sunset behind the Canadian bridge.
We know our long journey to vacation is complete
poem by Mary Elizabeth Kamman
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May This Song Reach Your Heart
A strong young woman sings,
Her voice so divine.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She showed the epitome
Of soul, body, and mind.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She sang to the heavens
With uplifting spirit.
'May this song reach your heart.'
Her song was made
So the world could hear it.
'May this song reach your heart.'
The song she sang
Was that of fine art.
'May this song,
Reach your heart.'
poem by Devon McElveen
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