Sorrow Rebirth Thinks Of Beauty
a huge knowledge of sorrow
must always think of beauty
memories running over themselves
are fires burning tortured souls
rebirth is born in rhythm ocean waves
wavelets are tender finger ripples
stroking skin of land shorelines
strong fingers massage knotted rocks
rubbing down into sand heartaches
baked on long hot wave eroded days
summarize ebb flow coastal beaches
beauty haunts all tidal manifestations
wind wave bird song sing salt choruses
each sunrise sunset paint shades of skies
beauty awaits in promise discoveries
washed up upon shore is storm sorrow
but in waste wake awaits hope tomorrow
tides clean sweep sand tide moon margins
search out treasures in childhood memories
sea calls in every salted shell rejoice hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ocean of memories....
When one day missing you becomes unbearable
I will seek you out from deep within the ocean of my memories
Walk on the sands of time till it lead me to your sunkissed shores
Where our journey ended and love will once again be reborn
Here i will await your loving heart
I will gaze out across the ocean
Breathe in the winds of hope
Close my eyes and cast the nets of faith once more
Reel in the vision of bygone times
In one precious moment
I shall surrender my soul, my heart, my being
To the rememberance of the fragrance of your body
Rediscovering its secrets
I shall recall the waves to the shore
and bathe blissfully in the ocean of your memories
We shall become one
Dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats
Watch a million butterflies taking flight
Shimmering bubbles floating above us
Watch the sun as it rises and sets in eyes yours and mine
Embrace and behold the beauty of loves tidal wave
Ride the waves of ecstacy
Reaching a crescendo
As each wave of passion hits the shore
and we evanesce into sprays of pearls and water
Ultimately
just another dropp in the ocean of memories
Beautiful Mermaid
Walking the beaches of southern earth
A beauty in my eyes gave new beauty birth
A mermaid washed upon the shores of sand
With a purple shell of love in hand
I picked it up and placed it to my ear
I heard the ocean talk and in my soul fear
I dropped the shell and looked down
The mermaid was dead, she most of drown
Her fins wert made of coral reef
And her heart was made for my belief
In her hair emeralds lights shone
On her finger lay one rock alone
Its color was like an ocean sapphire
More brilliant then an land fire
Her finger tips colored a garnet jade
Whitened there as she laid
I couldn't help to become dour
At such beauty dead, dead galore
SO I pick up the purple shell
And its conch I began to plea
‘Give her life and thou can have me
My song and my rhyme and my earthly glory'
I dropped to the sand, and saw my heart leak
Into her hand, when I became weak
She rose from sleep and looked at me
Dying, she smiled and fled back to the sea
I die not in vain but for beauty
As the mermaid lived for an eternity….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Being Teenagers Again
The flickering flecks of stardust
dance in your hair
as we run along the beach
being teenagers again
enjoying the freedom of the young.
The ocean waves caress the shore
with each new wave that falls.
The moon and stars shine bright
when night begins to call
and here are we running through
each wave that rushes up the sand.
Enjoying our evening out
being teenagers again.
Tomorrow is another day,
but for now, we’re having fun
enjoying the moon and stars
as we run along the sand
being teenagers again.
8 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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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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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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Memories Of The Pacific Coast
I know a land, I, too,
Where warm keen incense on the sea-wind blows,
And all the winter long the skies are blue,
And the brown deserts blossom with the rose.
Deserts of all delight,
Cactus and palm and earth of thirsty gold,
Dark purple blooms round eaves of sun-washed white,
And that Hesperian fruit men sought of old.
O, to be wandering there,
Under the palm-trees, on that sunset shore,
Where the waves break in song, and the bright air
Is crystal clean; and peace is ours, once more.
There Beauty dwells,
Beauty, re-born in whiteness from the foam;
And Youth returns with all its magic spells,
And the heart finds its long-forgotten home,--
Home--home! Where is that land?
For, when I dream it found, the old hungering cry
Aches in the soul, drives me from all I planned,
And sets my sail to seek another sky.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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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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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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Daze Of The Moiré Waves
Wave after wave, gust after gust
The phantoms that lurks and haunts
In this sea of treacherous hands
Waving for a slow dance, for riddance
Had their clandestine machinations
That endlessly rubbed sand into sand
Until they are finer than their whistling
And whiter than their demented dreams,
And surged tides after hungry tides
Devouring the clambering suppurations
That rivaled the pitch fathoms to rise
Only to dissipate in the endless toppling
And become tiny bubbles of forgetting
The phosphorescent shore and its descant
That fringes the lonely sea and her haze
Calls gust after gust, wave after wave
And with this drought I held in my heart
Abandoned by the arsenal of flames
The daze of the perfidious sea calls upon
My misbegotten misery, and in her ruse
That will devour my restricted bawl,
My anguished wails, and my groveling hopes
I stared endlessly resisting submission
But in this breadth of irrational obduracy
I have already drowned and the chance
Remained lurking upon the stark shore
Without leaving footprints to show
That the daze of the moiré waves
Had succumbed my stipulations.
poem by Norman Santos
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I Wish I Could Sing Of The Beauty I See
I wish I could sing of the beauty I see
The beauty of Nature that's all around me
In the warmth of November of the Southern Spring
The blackbird and magpie and shrike thrush do sing.
Of singing Nature's praises the poets never tire
And her beauty the Nature artist does inspire
To paint and frame a beautiful picture to hang on a gallery wall
When it comes to beauty Nature the most beautiful of all.
The buzzing of flying insects the flies and the bees
The soughing of the wind in the bushes and trees
The babble of the river and birdsong I hear
The voices of Nature are everywhere near.
The roar of the ocean when the tide is in
As the huge waves crash on the beach they do make a loud din
The howling of the storm, thunder cracks in the sky
When Nature feels angry to scream she's not shy.
Yet the beauty of Nature is lovely to behold
What is more beautiful than the parrots in their blue, red, green and gold
And the flowers of the parkland that bloom naturally
I wish I could write of the beauty I see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sonnet 15
Perfect morning sunrise
Nature's beauty all round
Nothing but blue clear sky
And all the ocean sounds
The sand is soft and clean
Another wave rushes on in
Such a place to daydream
What a day to simply grin
Ships pass by one by on
A lonely seashell on sand
The crisp air kissed by sun
We walk luv hand in hand
Thankful I am for this day
Life gets better in every way
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Sunset
Sand beneath my feet
Sky above my head
Looking for the sunset
The sunset I have left,
I am walking all alone
On the beaches sand
Walking by myself
With seashells in my hand,
Looking for the sunset
the sunsets which are spoke
The one that lover’s kiss to
The one, poets have wrote.
Walking arm in arm
With a different thought
Searching for the sunset
The beauty, many have sought,
I am walking all alone
With the sky above my head
Still looking for the beauty
The sunset I have left,
For many have told me
Many have also explained
There is nothing like the sunset
Or the summer’s rain,
I am walking all by myself
From my cloudy life
Looking for the wonder
The beauty after night.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Ocean Song
Sing a little song,
Just an itty bitty ditty,
About the rolling boom
Of the ocean’s lull and gloom.
Sing a little song,
Hum a simple tune,
That reminds you of the sea
And all that she may be.
Sing a little song,
Tap an unknown beat,
To sway the stars above
And steal the ocean from her love.
Sing a little song,
A sweeter melody.
Let’s coax the waves to shore -
Inspiring new lore.
Sing a little song,
Create some fancy notes,
That tempt the moon to land,
And we’ll dance on golden sand.
Sing a little song,
Drum an unheard rhythm,
About the sea’s unending keen
And all that she has seen.
Sing a little song,
A peaceful lullaby,
That speaks of pleasant ages
And soothes the ocean’s rages.
poem by Robin Shuler
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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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Beauty Is The Beast
beauty is the beast
upon our souls and hearts it feasts
it makes us blind to itself
behind innocent smiles it hides in stealth
yet in every place where beauty lies
the angels breath out their gentle sighs
its iron strength conquers our hearts by storm
transforming our very souls into their darkest form
to beauty does our money go, to beauty does our hearts
oh beauty it does cast its spell and triumphs over smarts
for beauty's thirst is unquenchable with habits most costly to sustain
it is beauty that calls to us and causes all our pain
and those who do escape beauty’s graceful wrath
yearn for its cursed gifts with envy doubled rather than halved
for beauty is the ugliest and foulest creature of them all
and in the end it is beauty that everything must fall
for beauty is the beast that we fight within
hence if beauty is the beast one can never win...
Awesome Beauty
When the golden sunset
Sets over the amber hills
And when the moon shines bright
And all the world stands still
There is beauty, awesome beauty
God took the dust and formed a man
He paints each sunrise with His hand
He took all the love within His heart
And gave us beauty from the start
There's beauty, awesome beauty
When the storm clouds come
And thunder rolls
When skies are dark
And it hardens the soul
There's beauty, awesome beauty
God took all the love within His heart
And gave us beauty from the start
There's beauty, awesome beauty
Through every age
There is a call
To admire the creation
He gave us all
It is beauty, awesome beauty
See the beauty, hear the call
Enjoy the life He gave us all
God took the love in His heart
And gave us beauty from the start
There's beauty, awesome beauty
((May 17th,2000))
poem by Danny Speicher
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What will be of us?
Struck by the thoughts of a man in wonder,
Behold, can you find beauty in my story,
Being happy of today, yet for tomorrow i worry,
Eager to possess what my heart desires,
The fortune that is always fragile to me,
Im tortured by the thoughts of loving you,
Im haunted by the memories of having you,
Im missing the days we never had,
Yet thinking the days that awaits us,
What will be of us my dearest
Its much harder than I thought,
Yet much better than we perceived,
I saw you wanted nothing of me,
Yet I saw you needed something of me,
The winter approached and it shall pass,
The rains shall pour and flow also,
Yet my heart is certain and unwavering,
The love mine, yes im determined,
Such is also my trust, im not afraid
I am glued to you as honey to bees,
Yet so sweet the honey I dont consume,
Talk to me, what will be of us
The days will surely come and go,
The wind will blow and obviously ease,
While the sun rises and absolutely set,
Unfolding new myths and realities,
The experience of life turning out,
Discoveries fashioning our fate,
Knowing you is knowing me,
I ask, what will be of us
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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My Idea of beauty
Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat,
when eyes full of mischief glance at you...
Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...
Beauty is in the heart which touches another
Beauty is tender hands holding each other
Beauty is strong arms holding you warm
Beauty is in water, beauty is in weather,
beauty is in air, beauty is in life
Beauty is in love, beauty is in wind...
Beauty surrounds you days and nights
yet no one knows beauty's heights...
poem by Nitya Pillai
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The Siren's Song
The Siren's Song
By: Adam M. Snow
Once upon a midnight wake,
A Siren sings, 'Sweet mercy sake'
Soothes the hearts O' gentle man,
In their yielding peaceful span.
Sirens cometh from the deep,
Cloaked in light the water sleep,
Claims the souls, lost to man,
Since the dawning life began.
Gathers victims from the shore,
Spoke the stories ancient lore,
Of beauty risen from the sea,
Captures souls without a plea.
Mesmerized them with her song,
And as the boat-head wound along,
Lighthouse glistens over tides,
Kiss her lips and she abides,
Kiss her twice, your souls no more,
And death awaits at your shore.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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A Beat Of Sorrow That Thinks Of Beauty/Otkucaj Tuge Sto Ljepotu Mni
it takes a memory that runs over itself
to get to learn and endless southern rhythm
it takes a fire that burns itself down
to get to know an ocean wave
it takes tender enough strong enough fingers
to summerize anything into a touch
so that the heard amidst the things could recognise
a beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
it takes much more and reaches much stronger
to ask for more to search and look
so as to eventually know
the one in the seed of wake planted
the being cut off from itself
into the cliffs of the world pushed forever
it takes a huge knowledge an endless one
of this world's drama
for just one beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je sjećanje koje samo sebe gazi
da bi se spoznao beskrajni ritam juga
potrebna je vatra koja samu sebe spaljuje
da bi se spoznao okeanov talas
potrebni su dovoljno nježni i snažni prsti
da bi se išta saželo u dodir
da bi srce u srži svega moglo da prepozna
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je mnogo više mnogo snažnije
da se ište dalje da se traži
da bi se najzad saznalo
ono u sjemenu buđenja začeto
od sebe samog otkinuto biće
u urvine svijeta zauvijek bačeno
potrebno je jedno veliko beskrajno veliko
poznavanje drame ovog svijeta
za samo jedan otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
1990.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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