061710a Beach Is It Us Open
from atop a green overlooking cliff
golf pride of the west pebble beach
beautiful sunshine strokes not so deep
kelp overgrowth cradling otters asleep
while fans gaze at the ball i'm amaze
unmindful of the beauty touch by breeze
approaching nine a view of layers of waves
come kissing shore with bubbles then ebbs
i look around; no orange mini-skirted babes
they are with me with sweater and shades
so charming, admiring swings of the greats
i touch my hat, it reminds me of heart's gift
poem by Manonton Dalan
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052910C plants love to be touch
this morning i'm carrying my golf bag
when i happen to brush against green
greenness of leaves revealing a bud
so green, that of a jade, cocoon like
this reminds me that it's spring time
soon it will bloom to a whitish beauty
i can't resist to touch its softness
springing from deep inside of me
an admiration to beautiful nature
always providing us with their love
some never learn to appreciate
it's around us and never been late
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Blue Wall / Green Wall
What comes to my mind when I see a green wall?
A green wall reminds me of the grass so green
And the emerald most rarely seen
A green wall reminds me of the leaves so green
And a forest where I have never been
A green wall reminds me of trees with a lot of shade
And the fresh vegetables kept for trade.
What comes to my mind when I see a blue wall?
It reminds me of the sea so blue
I feel like jumping in it too
A blue wall reminds me of the blue sky
You can’t touch it cause it’s very high
A blue wall reminds me of the deep blue bear
It is very dangerous so beware
A blue wall reminds me of a blue whale
To reach it from the shore you have to sail.
poem by Risha Ahmed
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Beautiful One
Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.
Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.
Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.
Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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She is that sunshine.......
Walking on the beach, with a lazy style
she made it bend,
before i know, we covered that mile,
...'nd my heart was mend
There was a time, when i looked around
but it was all dark
zing in her eyes lit a candle light
made'em fade, the old scar
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
From my window, when i look outside
the grass is green and birds are white
now my door open to that beach
where waves come around to touch her feet
everything that glows is never out of reach...
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
She is that sunshine.......
poem by Mohit Dhawan
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061410b Bavarian Babes
ah! when i hear about bavaria
i think about the beer bubbles
that cling to my beard after toss
then i saw those orange miniskirt
awesome body, soccer babes
who shakes and grind for kicks
they must have lots to jabulani*
with those body hugging mini
the organizers were not please
ambush marketing they said
that's best i've seen, i would say
far better from football sunday
*jabulani - celebrate from zulo;
name of the soccer ball in
world cup 2010
poem by Manonton Dalan
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A Walk On The Beach By Nadood
From all the stress and all the pain
I would walk on the beach in the rain
I could hear the whispers of the Shore
Taking away all the problems and sore
As I look at the sea
I know there is nothing like this beauty
When I take a deep, deep breathe
It would take out the fear
And I could hear the whispers of the ocean in my ear
Telling me softly and gently 'Oh, dear! Oh dear'
As my heart beat goes faster and faster
I could hear the ocean's laughter
I love it when the gentle touch of the water hits my feet
You would never want to take a seat
When the wind blows
And your hair flows
Your stress just simply goes
You feel as calm as ever
You feel peace and so much better
It's just you and the beach forever
And when you lie on the sand
And you touch it with your hand
You feel like you're in wonderland
Every speck of sand brings back time
Memories and days of faith, hope, and shine
Instead of thinking about crimes
The beach makes you not worried
About the things you did or going to do
Because the whispers of the ocean will still say 'I love you, I really do'
Oh! That soft, gentle touch of the ocean
Makes me wonder about the potion
They used to put me under their spell
And that beautiful sound of the bell
Oh! How much I love the beach
I come to it when I'm sad or mad
I come to it when I'm happy or cranky
I come to it for advice
All this for no price
As I weep beside it about my problems everyday
It is like I can almost feel it touch my shoulder and say 'it's going to be okay'
I don't know whether to trust or believe
But the ocean said 'just follow your heart and you will achieve'
Do you want to know why I love this ocean?
It is because I know it will never leave.
Because finally it told me to achieve
poem by nadood al ND
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Their Chosen Sport
Rollers breaking onto the beach,
Surfers riding high,
Battling with the waves as each
One, they dare defy.
Great excitement in this display,
Such skill and balance too,
Keeping atop the foaming spray,
A victory to pursue.
The Lifeguards keep a watchful eye,
As they perform their art,
To certain rules they must comply.
Before they even start.
With tanned physique they surf the tide,
While the spectators gaze,
And are the heroes of the glide,
And really do amaze.
On Bondi beach and Newquay's shore,
They gather for the thrill,
To brave the sea with its thunderous roar,
And take the occasional spill.
To beat the ocean's vertical towers,
Is a challenge some will face,
A man against the surging powers,
A dream they have to chase.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Deep
on the edge
windowsill
ponders his maker
ponders his will
to the street below
he just ain't nothin'
but he's got a great view...
on the edge
know-nothin' town
feelin' quite superior
the aged come
to the sky above
he just ain't nothin'
but he's got a great view...
on the edge of a
christmas clean love
young virgin from heaven
visiting...
to the man above her
she just ain't nothin'...
she doesn't like the view
doesn't like the view
doesn't like the view...
but he sinks himself deep.
can't touch the bottom
in too deep
can't touch the bottom
can't touch the bottom
in too deep
can't touch the bottom
can't touch the bottom
in too deep
can't touch the bottom
can't touch the bottom
deep...
Release
song performed by by Pearl Jam from Ten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Beautiful Torquay
All ye lovers of the picturesque, away
To beautiful Torquay and spend a holiday
'Tis health for invalids for to go there
To view the beautiful scenery and inhale the fragrant air,
Especially in the winter and spring-time of the year,
When the weather is not too hot, but is balmy and clear.
Torquay lies in a very deep and well-sheltered spot,
And at first sight by strangers it won't be forgot;
'Tis said to be the mildest place in ah England,
And surrounded by lofty hills most beautiful and grand.
Twas here that William of Orange first touched English ground,
And as he viewed the beautiful spot his heart with joy did rebound;
And an obelisk marks the spot where he did stand,
And which for long will be remembered throughout England.
Torquay, with its pier and its diadem of white,
Is a moat beautiful and very dazzling sight,
With its white villas glittering on the sides of its green hills,
And as the tourist gases thereon with joy his heart fills.
The heights around Torquay are most beautiful to be seen,
Especially when the trees and shrubberies are green,
And to see the pretty houses under the cliff is a treat,
And the little town enclosed where two deep valleys meet.
There is also a fine bathing establishment near the pier,
Where the tourist can bathe without any fear;
And as the tourists there together doth stroll,
I advise them to visit a deep chasm called Daddy's Hole.
Then there's Bablicome, only two miles from Torquay,
Which will make the stranger's heart feel gay,
As he stands on the cliff four hundred feet above the sea,
Looking down,'tis sure to fill his heart with ecstasy.
The lodging-houses at Bablicome are magnificent to be seen,
And the accommodation there would suit either king or queen,
And there's some exquisite cottages embowered in the woodland,
And sloping down to the sea shore, is really very grand.
You do not wonder at Napoleon's exclamation
As he stood on the deck of the "Bellerophon," in a fit of admiration,
When the vessel was lying to windbound,
He exclaimed - "Oh, what a beautiful country!" his joy was profound.
And as the tourist there in search of beautiful spots doth rove,
Let them not forget to enquire for Anstey's Cove,
And there they will see a beautiful beach of milky white,
And the sight will fill their hearts with delight.
Oh! beautiful Torquay, with your lovely scenery,
And your magnificent cottages sloping down to the sea,
You are the most charming spot in all England,
With your picturesque bay and villas most grand.
And, in conclusion, to tourists I will say,
Off! off to Torquay and make no delay,
For the scenery is magnificent, and salubrious the air,
And 'tis good for the health to reside there.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Paintings by fliss II Not So Abstract
Canvas on stand
Colours to the side
Pallet in hand
Let the brush slide
Orange and green
Coming from deep
Painting oh! Oh So serene
Trance like, almost a dream
Curves so sensual
The colours just flow
Enraptures, almost physical
Easy strokes, nice and slow
Show what's inside
Bristles caressing
Your hearts not lied
Smoothly, not fussing
Featherlight touch
Not a hint of blue
Like a lovers first touch
Exploring anew
Painted not drawn
Not one to delete
As fresh as the dawn
Canvas complete
RG/fliss
poem by Robert Green
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Pebble Justice
he picks up a pebble
and throws it into the sea
from a cliff
he asks: this is not a place
for pebbles
so this is not a pebble
i will return it to the sea
and be with the sands
and shells and
waves and winds
and seaweeds
and crabs
does he not wonder at all
if he has the power to decide where a pebble must be?
sometimes people assume so much
behaving like a god
must he think a little deeper and realize
that what is proper for the people is not proper for a pebble
that pebbles too have minds of their own
and who know if the same pebble to thinks
that the cliff is not the place of man
assuming to be its own god?
must he be considerate enough that pebbles too have
their own invisible feet
and well developed brains
and that when the man throws it into the sea
on the ground only of
impropriety
that the pebble may have objected it vehemently and could have
used its own hidden powers
but only that it did not show it
by reason of pity that this man
is so dumb
and so limited
in the flesh of its
own selfish
understanding?
does he not know that a pebble too demands respect
have privacy
and soon shall take its
inevitable revenge?
'bury mankind! they have thrown us away
without our consent' that is their clamor now
in their own
Pebble Court using their Pebble law
to be judged later
by their Pebble Magistrates.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Beautiful Game
A ball hit into empty stands in a game of cricket,
A game so bland won’t have me buying a ticket,
As a kid I saw my first footy game at Stamford Bridge,
Gullit was a magician with the ball he’d flick and trick it,
Knew there and then that id be picking it,
As my favourite sport played on this earth,
Picked up a football never stopped kicking it,
First touch chesting it, cross comes in always headering it,
The beautiful game has a magic that keeps you remembering it,
Mini football games like ‘66’ boost skills and tricks
For schoolboys bunking school claiming there sick
The dick in black blowing his whistle for a diving prat,
Blokes in pubs screaming “what was that? ! ? ! ”
Sad to see the beautiful game run by money men and bankers,
Warms my heart though to still hear the crowd go
“The referees a wanker! The referees a wanker! ”
Im forever blowing bubbles walking in a winter wonderland,
Oh to be a man and football fan on your sofa in the pub or the stands,
There’s nothing quite like it to be together in your team clan,
Cheering our teams on with every emotional breath at hand
No sport is as passionate or bigger,
No sport can do it like football can,
No nation has stadiums that are fuller,
No country can love this game more then England fans!
poem by Kaspa Richards
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On the other shore of my song Original by Rabindranath Tagore
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The wind is pretty strong somehow
Don’t be late; please sail your boat now
Anchor your boat in my heart right where you belong.
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The game of song that I play with you
It makes me sad and it’s nothing new!
When will you take my flute of love
And play it to charm me enough
In the darkness full of happiness all night long?
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Before and After Having Sex
There's more than sex,
I want from you.
And with you,
There is more than sex...
To do!
Before and after having sex.
There's more than sex,
I want from you.
And with you,
There is more than sex...
To do!
Before and after having sex.
When we walk along the beach...
There is a sweet,
Nectar in the air.
We don't need to touch to please.
Or be detoxed...
By the flow of easy listening.
There's nothing we have missing,
But more of this.
Since with us this love we have is a hit.
After striking out and getting over it!
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
There's more than sex,
I want from you.
And with you,
There is more than sex...
To do!
Before and after having sex.
After mid-day heat.
When the Sun shine starts to blazing.
We sip on lemonaide...
As we welcome the Sunset that comes.
Sitting back and relaxed.
Awaiting something spectacular to be done.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
Since with us this love we have is a hit.
After striking out and getting over it!
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
And when we touch there is more to please.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
Before and after having sex.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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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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Sonnets of home
I
I dream of building
a mansion, villa
or big white house
with a lot of space,
or maybe a Tuscan place
or two set on a terrace
on a mountain
with a wonderful view
overlooking the ocean
with a ivory white beach
that runs as far
as the eye can see
and to make it home
just for you and me
II
The birds will be our companions
and whales and dolphins
will pass in the bay
and a garden
as big as a park
will run all the way
down to the sea
and every plant and tree
that you like will be there
and vegetables will grow in patches
against the hill and there will be orchards
with juicy red, yellow and orange fruit
and plantations with big green pines
will cover the rest.
III
The house will be a white pillar
that towers like a castle above it all
and a place where any wary traveller
will be welcome to visit and rest
and there will be steps coming down
to the bay and a lift or two or three
next to an azure lagoon
where a cool river splashes down
in a big pronged waterfall
and we will be able
to lie in the bright sun
and run with the dogs
on the white beach
like children having fun.
IV
l’Envoi
Let others live in big crowded cities
and be packed into matchboxes
reaching up into the sky
and have more neighbours
than they care to know
but you and I
will be able to watch
blue waves twist and break
and hear the melody
of the rushing sea
and your studio and our home
will stretch from the hill
down to the aquamarine ocean
and touch the big sapphire sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In His House Of Standard Things
to make perhaps an impression of what is beautiful
he lets me in his house
he gives me some drinks and he begins to tell me
what indeed is beautiful
he chooses his colors
mostly green with whites embedded like pearls
on blue green seaweeds under a deep blue sea
he chooses the shapes that fit
mostly spherical and embossed
he likes static things like sculptures of the
busts of great men that he adores
light is not as bright as he wants it to be
more of dusks and twilights
for he does need not so much light to make his life visible
he likes the touch of silk and threads
he adores the gentleness of the wind
exquisitely plucked from a dawning breeze
and then after i have seen them all
he asks me to leave
it is a matter of simply having me in
for a showroom
a lecture on what is beautiful
how i wish to be back in that house again
green and white and shades of these two colors
but it is over
and the house has since been flown to the sky
and its doors and windows closed
and the door bell
had since been concealed with a thick wall
and the gate is locked with steel bars
well, for wherever he is
and whether his house was real or not
let me say, (and that i really forgot)
thank you sir
tomorrow, i will build a house of my own
but it will not be green and white
i will choose the pastel orange side of things like the sunset of my life
and some reds and pinks for the love of my life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Last One To Touch Me
If there ever was an angel, then surely you must be one
If there ever was a perfect love when I look at you I see one
If there's heaven on earth, then this must surely be
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
The last thing I remember before I go to sleep
Is the touch of your sweet lips softly kissing me
And I go to sleep athinking how happy you make me
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
And when it's time to lay me down for my eternal sleep
Once more let your fingers softly touch my cheek
If I know that you have touched me, then I can sleep in peace
And I want you to be the last one to touch me
And when the night is over and time will be no more
They say that we shall meet again upon the golden shore
And so when I awaken from my eternal sleep
I want you to be the first one to touch me
I want you to be the first, the last, the only one to touch me
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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