I Love Lyme Regis
I love Lyme Regis,
the pink and white cottage's,
and the deep blue sea,
the pebble on sandy beach's where the children play,
walking along the heritage coast, picking up fossil's along the way,
watching the fishing boat's going out to sea,
bringing back mackerel and crab for us to eat for tea,
the Cobb, the cliff's, the safe harbour for the little ship's,
for these and many more thing's,
i love Lyme Regis.
poem by Alan J Duffield Lock
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Related quotes
My Own Sea Of Blues...
there is no salt
in your sea of
blue, i guess,
it is all bitterness
in there
but wait
there is a blueness in
the sea
that makes this world
a waving
experience, foamy white
sea caps,
white sea gulls hovering
for a school
of fish
a yacht with lovers
sharing
lives,
a fishing boat loaded with
a big catch
children swimming
along the coast
sunbathing babes
multicolored beach
umbrellas
surfing boards
sunglasses
on my own interpretation
of the sea
of blues....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For This World
About men,
About women,
About life,
About love,
About children,
About war! !
And the bombs came killing us than bringing us peace;
For this world is now infused with hatred than with peace.
The Blue Cafe,
The Blue Water,
The Blue Beach,
The Blue Love;
But, the blues of was has now overtaken all of us! !
And, i am now resting at the Little Bay Beach.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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song - Crammag Light
The winter winds are blowin in from Ireland ‘cross the sea
I’m waiting on the pierhead here just watching seagulls wheel
The light is going down now and I’m thinking of the night
When you sailed out from this harbour wall down past Crammag light
The years have passed so slowly since I watched you sail away
I wonder if you’re on the waves still fishing night and day
The tourists have all gone now and I’m by the fireside
In the flames I see you sailing off down past Crammag light
(chorus)
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
The harbour bell is silent now but seabirds on the wing
Are calling out to everywhere, above the breaking waves
But the only song that I can hear is the song the winter sings
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
Remember when we stood upon the cliff at logan head
The sea was like a mill pond and the sun was setting red
The herring boats were drifting southwards on the flooding tide
In the distance we could see the moon over Crammag light
The waves are running high towards the fishpond cottage wall
And all the sea is empty now as darkness starts to fall
The Sanderlings are crying for another day that’s gone
To the south of Laggantulloch, Crammag’s light has just come on
(chorus)
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
The harbour bell is silent now but seabirds on the wing
Are calling out to everywhere, above the breaking waves
But the only song that I can hear is the song the winter sings
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
I’ve heard the talk about the ghost that haunts the waters here
They say that when the sun goes down his fishing boat appears
In winter’s gales and breaking waves, or so the legends say,
In the sweeping light from Crammag, heading north for Logan Bay
I think there's a little bit of sizzling here. Honestly, I can feel it. The ions are flying back and forth.
quote by Regis Philbin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Scene In A Little Town
the sky is white
the sea is blue like silk
on the sea three fishermen
pull their net
their boat is small
and wooden
on the sandy beach
a child plays with his white dog
how peaceful is this place
how wonderful is this life!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beach Pebble
Everyone has
at one time or other,
picked up a pebble on the beach,
turned it over in their hands,
sensed something of its uniqueness,
how millions of years have gone to the splitting
and the smoothing of the rock,
to the perfect shaping of the pebble.
Few of us stop and think for longer.
It is a momentary glimpse into an eternal process,
but we dropp the pebble and carry on walking along the beach.
poem by Howlin' Dervish
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Seaside Traveller
Journeying along the seashore
Climbing to the summit of a tall cliff
Looking over the sea.
Saw in the distance
What I thought was a large ship.
I waited and waited
So long
In hope of seeing it
Enter the harbour,
But as the object on
Which I looked was
Driven nearer to shore
By the wind and waves.
I found that it could at
The most be a small boat
And, not a ship.
When it reached the beach
I discovered that it was only
A large faggot of sticks.
I thought to myself
I've waited for no purpose,
For after all
There is nothing to see
But
A load of wood.
Our mere anticipation
of Life
Outrun
its realities.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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At the Harbour
The ships are in the harbour,
Some ship are small, some are larger,
The wavy waters blue and green,
Although blue and green should not be seen.
Saucy Jane was a little red boat,
Who bobbed merrily upon Squire John’s moat?
Her sail was white, her stern was mauve.
Han sail was white, her mast was new,
As she swam through the sea,
Of tranquil blue, with trickling bits of green.
poem by Claire Galpin
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Beach Chairs
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes
poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Misery (Rhyming Acrostic)
Misery (Rhyming Acrostic)
Mean spirited and so bold
Insensitive and so cold
Seeking solace in the night
Ever avoiding the light
Residing deep in the gloom
You are the princess of doom
poem by Regis Auffray
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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 Water Is Wide
The water is wide
I cant cross over
And neither have
I wings to fly
Build me a boat
That can carry two
And both shall row
My love and i
There is a ship
And she sails the sea
Shes loaded deep
As deep can be
But not so deep
As the love Im in
I know not how
I sink or swim
Oh love is handsome
And love is fine
The sweetest flower
When first its new
But love grows old
And waxes cold
And fades away
Like summer dew
Build me a boat
That can carry two
And both shall row
My love and i
And both shall row
My love and i
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm involved in the stock market, which is fun and, sometimes, very painful.
quote by Regis Philbin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chronic Lyme causes arthritis, heart problems, stroke - even death.
quote by Daryl Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regis has a great rapport with the American public.
quote by Wink Martindale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Linda And Friends' Hampton Beach Gardens
Crimson,
Sun yellow,
Fairy rose pink,
Blue, Paris lavender
And soft white -
Colors are afloat!
Some rippling flowers
At Hampton Beach
Bloom in roadside island gardens
And in their own rowboats.
The flowers
And more blossoms, too,
Welcome sandy feet, sea gulls,
And sailing butterflies alike.
The beach blossoms
Hold pure sunshine,
Delighting all ages,
From the very old
To little tykes.
How the bright petals shine
During a magical day
By the seashore
In the summery sun!
It is fun to see the beach gardens' treasures
Blooming
Around magnificent Happy Hampton!
Once the spots where the pretty flowers
Now catch the sunbeams
Were just plain dirt
Or bare, hard concrete.
Today the shimmery flowers,
Bringing joyful tidings,
Have our families and friends
To greet.
poem by Gayle Sweeney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regis and I were inducted into the original Bronx Walk of Fame.
quote by Robert Klein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Must Have Been At The End Of January
It must have been at the end of January
when the sun hanged high at seven in the afternoon,
when we walked together on the beach
and just before we kissed my eye caught a ship in the distance
Suddenly the ship disappeared
in beyond the blue ocean
but it was white and red
and the sun shone cobalt-blue in a bright sky.
That day has disappeared into oblivion
with the remembrance that constantly dwindles
and even that blonde girl I have forgotten,
even the expression on her face,
how lovely she had been,
how her lips felt and tasted,
even the hue of her eyes
I cannot bring back to my thoughts
and that woman has long been married,
with maybe a string of children
but I keep remembering that ship
as it rocks up and down on the waves.
[Reference: 'Erinnering an die Marie A' by Bertolt Brecht.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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There once was an old man of Lyme
Who married three wives at a time,
When asked, 'Why a third?'
He replied, 'One's absurd!
And bigamy, sir, is a crime.
quote by by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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