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Fleeting Thought

As I walk upon the beach
I listen to the waves.
I like to hear them crash against the rocks
Time and time again.
I think of an army charging a stronghold
A legion of surging white knights,
Contemptuously charging a wall of granite-faced men,
Brown wind-cracked faces
Shields locked for battle
Death alone will break them.

Streaming white horsehair standards
Lifted over the crest of a ridge.
The sun’s level rays
Striking fire
On their spear points,
And their gleaming blue shields.
Instantly rises a full-throated war cry
The clash and grind of weapons of steel,
The hollow booming of war horns, the rolling thunder
Of shield meeting shield.
A dark mass checked but an instant, a moment’s indecision,
That seems without end.
But a moment’s indecision, before the charge smashes on
With shattering speed yet again.

Yet the defenders stand
Like an island of rock
Thrust at from all sides,
The tides ebb and flow.
While the waves of destruction roar in
Wave upon wave,
Then swiftly glide back like a shadow
Or a wild animal timing its spring,
Leaving ground open
Littered with wounded or dead.
Ground already fought over
To be recontested again,
As though both sides suddenly stopped, together
And drew breath to pause.

Instantly another legion springs forward
With uplifted spear,
Against a solid line of warriors that never breaks
Or crumbles in fear.
Till at last with a long heave
Combining together
The waves rise up
To pass over and engulf them.
Boiling white foam bubbles all around
While spray flies high in the air.

For a few seconds longer
I stand by to stare
Lost in my thoughts,
Not a sound can I hear.
The very essence of life is laden
Within the salt air
That I could reach out and touch if I wanted
As my lungs touch the air.
I become all that I see
As electricity is all,
Without which there are only static
Lifeless machines.
Yet if I tried to describe what I see
These words would I hear.
But it’s only the waves,
Crashing against the rocks.
Time and time again.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes

The Beach

As I walk upon the beach
I listen to the waves.
I like to hear them
crash against the rocks
time and time again.

I think of an army
charging a stronghold
then the army
overcomes the stronghold.

But its only the waves
crashing against the rocks
time and time again.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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As if anchored to my rock

On a rock next to the sea
I see the horizon
where ocean and sky
meets each other
with blue fading into blue.

The waves smash with thundering sound
time after time
and drops of seawater
splash over me
as if she is my mistress
and are stroking me with her long fingers.

It is as if the rock
moves under my feet
the ocean wants
to get me in her arms,
but I stand unmovable
as if anchored to my rock
and nothing can let me slip down from it.

I see the green blue of her water
that is rushing near
with white foam
just before braking
and further on the dark blue
lies like colours of a gleaming eye
and I think: sea into you
I will not climb down

and when a giant wave
brakes over me,
bending my body and sucking with force
I stand unmovable
as if anchored to my rock.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Hampton Beach

THE SUNLIGHT glitters keen and bright,
Where, miles away,
Lies stretching to my dazzled sight
A luminous belt, a misty light,
Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wastes of sandy gray.
The tremulous shadow of the Sea!
Against its ground
Of silvery light, rock, hill, and tree,
Still as a picture, clear and free,
With varying outline mark the coast for miles around.

On—on—we tread with loose-flung rein
Our seaward way,
Through dark-green fields and blossoming grain,
Where the wild brier-rose skirts the lane,
And bends above our heads the flowering locust spray.

Ha! like a kind hand on my brow
Comes this fresh breeze,
Cooling its dull and feverish glow,
While through my being seems to flow
The breath of a new life, the healing of the seas!

Now rest we, where this grassy mound
His feet hath set
In the great waters, which have bound
His granite ankles greenly round
With long and tangled moss, and weeds with cool spray wet.

Good-by to Pain and Care! I take
Mine ease to-day
Here where these sunny waters break,
And ripples this keen breeze, I shake
All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away.

I draw a freer breath, I seem
Like all I see—
Waves in the sun—the white-winged gleam—
Of sea-birds in the slanting beam—
And far-off sails which flit before the south-wind free.

So when Time’s veil shall fall asunder,
The soul may know
No fearful change, nor sudden wonder,
Nor sink the weight of mystery under,
But with the upward rise, and with the vastness grow.

And all we shrink from now may seem
No new revealing;
Familiar as our childhood’s stream,
Or pleasant memory of a dream
The loved and cherished Past upon the new life stealing.

Serene and mild the untried light
May have its dawning;
And, as in summer’s northern night
The evening and the dawn unite,
The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul’s new morning.

I sit alone; in foam and spray
Wave after wave
Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray,
Shoulder the broken tide away,
Or murmurs hoarse and strong through mossy cleft and cave.

What heed I of the dusty land
And noisy town?
I see the mighty deep expand
From its white line of glimmering sand
To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves shuts down!

In listless quietude of mind,
I yield to all
The change of cloud and wave and wind
And passive on the flood reclined,
I wander with the waves, and with them rise and fall.

But look, thou dreamer!—wave and shore
In shadow lie;
The night-wind warns me back once more
To where, my native hill-tops o’er,
Bends like an arch of fire the glowing sunset sky.

So then, beach, bluff, and wave, farewell!
I bear with me
No token stone nor glittering shell,
But long and oft shall Memory tell
Of this brief thoughtful hour of musing by the Sea.

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Sonnets of the stone ruins

Long ago a mighty hunter
sailed on the river to look for medicine
and his canoe made from tree
was swept along with uprooted trees
by a river in flood.

He lost control over the boat
and in the distance
a thundering sound
hanged in the air
mighty smoke
rose ghostly out of the water
in a fine spray
and he could hear tons of water
flowing down a cataract.

While the canoe was spinning round
and round
he tied a long thin strong thong
to a arrow
and with all the power in his strong arms
he draws the bow’s string and set his aim
on a massive tree
standing on the shore.

The arrow caught speed
and hanged a moment in the grey air
before it hit the tree with great force
and the thong spanned stiff
and his arms with desperate power
overcame the river.

III

He passed the remains
of ancient mines
and villages declining
and overgrown by bushes
and suddenly there were rock walls and towers
and branches creeping
into the walls.

Cautiously he sneaked nearer
and shot a arrow through a spitting cobra
and suddenly a figure appeared behind a bush,
but before his rock could hit it
it disappeared into the nought
and against a niche another figure stared
deep into his thoughts

When he stormed with assegai in his hand
onto that figure
it disappeared around a corner
into a dark passageway
and all at once
there was an animal with glowing eyes
breathing heavily in the dark in front of him
and he lifted his shield against it
And took a firm grip on the back of the spear.

With rotting breath and cruel anger
a lion leaped with stretched out claws
growling onto him,
but he was shield somewhat
While the assegai went deep past the animal’s ribs.

While the lion died in anger
the claws ripped deep into the hunter’s shoulder
and his sharp knife
slashed time after time
through the animal’s heart
and covered in blood
he came out
from under weight of the dead lion.

In horror he saw
the lion changing slowly
from animal to human
with a spear through his ribs
and a lion skin
around his shoulders.

He was still busy
dragging the lion skin from the killed man
and felt the soft fur
in his hands,
when to more lions
in anger leaped on him.

It was too much for him
since both knife and spear
still wedged into the dead man
and with the fighting
he had lost
his bow and arrows
and he was cornered
by lions ripping from both sides.

VII

l’Envoi

It is told
than when the air is open
and the moon takes long to rise
a mighty hunter appears
with the rain gods
where they bash their shields
and spears against each other
and that the air
is now his hunting ground

You can see stripes of thunder
when his arrows with thongs
dropp down to earth,
before the new season’s
first raindrops fall.

[Reference: With thanks to “The ivory trail” by T.V. Bulpin that gave me the idea of this poem.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Seabirds

Mighty waves come crashing down,
The spray is lashing high into the eagles eye
Shrieking as it cuts the devil wind,
Is calling sailors to the deep
But I can hear the sound of seabirds in my ear
Surf is high an the sea is awash
An a haze of candy floss, glitter and beads
Rock that we sat on and watched in the sun
That was hot to touch
And the sea was emerald green
I can hear the sound of seabirds in my ear
And I can see you smile
Surf comes rushing up the beach
Now will it reach the castle wall and will it fall
Catfish dappled silver flashing
Dogfish puffing bubbles in my deep

song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On one stormy winter morning

On one stormy winter morning,
I walked along Blouberg’s beach
and out of the soft falling rain
a figure on a horse appeared
coming out of the fog
and riding from the sea
to land.

The waves crushed with
all their might,
but nothing could touch
that rider and its horse.

There was more
than a mere man
and animal locked to that scene
and shallow water
hanged in a spray
and wet sand and seaweed
flew away
when the hooves
found solid ground.

Just for a moment
the horseman looked me in the eye
and integrity and bravery
was etched deep
into his face.

I could hear the great horse breathing
before they turned
and with speed
went back into the sea,
where far away
the mast of a sinking sailing ship
went up and down
in enormous waves.

[Reference: The heroic story of Wolraad Woltemade.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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With A Roaring Sound Waves Crash

With a roaring sound waves crash
under Waenhuiskrans,
and they cave there
when gigantic tongues of spray
like white stars break mightily
drenching everything with deep water
like white stars,
like white stars
just before the red dawn comes.

With a roaring sound waves crash
deep out of the dark sea,
like a pack of hungry wolves
that does not give up territory
the water keeps hammering
where it knocks against hard rock,
the water keeps hammering.
the water keeps hammering
until it flows through the cave itself.

With a roaring sound waves crash,
hit battering blows
with endless power
into the folds of the rock
and caught you and I stand
where we see a spectacle
and caught
and caught
mightily the sea sweeps past.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Our last Swim (R.I.P. Anne Mary Simon)

Our last Swim
By Renee’
For my beloved Anne Mary Simon

An Image of you in a cloud rolls by
The sky opens up, somewhere in my mind
A vision of you in a pale blue dress
Tears falling down, you took my breath
Memories of you...