"Beach Poems Come From The Inspiration Gained From Sticking Your Toes In That Warm sand..."



Some beach poems for enjoyment and inspiration.

Somewhere

Oh, to be lying,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
With sand in my toes,
And the wind,
In my hair.

And only the sound,
Of the seagulls,
On high,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
Under sunny blue sky.

The gentle caress,
Of the waves,
On the shore,
And you close,
Beside me,

A soft sandy beach,
That goes on,
Forever,
You, me,br>And a beach,
So happy together.

Linda Harnett



The Sandpiper
Across the lonely beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I,
And fast I gather, but by bit,
The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I.


Above our heads the sullen clouds
Scud, black and swift, across the sky:
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white light-houses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach
I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
As fast we flit along the beach,
One little sandpiper and I.

I watch him as he skims along,
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
He starts not at my fitful song,
Nor flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong,br>He scans me with a fearless eye;br>Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
The little sandpiper and I.

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night,
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My drift-wood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky;
For are we not God's children both,
Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

And fast I gather, but by bit,
The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I.

Above our heads the sullen clouds
Scud, black and swift, across the sky:
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white light-houses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach
I see the close-reefed vessels fly,

As fast we flit along the beach,One little sandpiper and I.

I watch him as he skims along,
Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;
He starts not at my fitful song,
Nor flash of fluttering drapery.
He has no thought of any wrong,
He scans me with a fearless eye;
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong,
The little sandpiper and I.

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night,
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My drift-wood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky;
For are we not God's children both,
Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

Celia Thaxter


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

joyce ebrecht


Down to the beach


Down to the beach
Down to the beach
On a sunny day we go

Beach bags packed with sun screen lotions
Hands rubbing people’s backs in slow motion
Glistening oily bodies radiating with sensation

Down to the beach
Down to the beach
Where a chilly sea breeze blows

Let’s have some fun
In the red-hot sun

Down to the beach
Only there the ladies reveal saucy behinds
Whenever the raging sun is still kind

Down to the beach
As never-ceasing waves play across the shores
People happily play dreading any rainy downpour

Down to the beach
Where young lovers closely nestle
As sand creatures cause the sand to bristle
Seagulls gliding in the air with screams and whistles
Kids picking up shells and building stormy sand castles

Down to the beach
Where mostly good vibes flow
Down to the beach
We go whilst there is still sun without snow

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

Sylvia Chidi


Haiku - beach crabs


my beach walk
little crabs run
light as breeze

john tiong chunghoo


My Garden -- like the Beach
by Emily Dickinson

My Garden -- like the Beach --
Denotes there be -- a Sea --
That's Summer --
Such as These -- the Pearls
She fetches -- such as Me


Beach Glass
by Raymond A. Foss

How do you beach?
Sorry, don’t want to get<
Too personal
Just asking, to get a perspective
To put us on the same page.

Do you lay in place
drink in the rays, melt the stress?
Or maybe play – ball, Frisbee, or V-ball?

Not me. I walk, the length of the beach
Too restless to sit
Lost in my own thing
Looking for shells, people,
and beach glass.

Taking in the scene;
Hoping I remember where I left her
on my return.

8/7/04 18:49


Beach Sand
by Raymond A. Foss

Maybe it is the memories
the change of pace that brings us there
the sense of vacation
maybe the smell of the place
the sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grasses
but oh it is the feel of it,
the crunch and slide of it
the feeling of beach sand
so different from dirt, soil, loam
no, not earthy, moist, rich,
but oh so granular and gritty
even when wet,
moveable paper spreading under toes
sliding beneath the soles
smoothing my skin
clearing my mind
unburdening me of the rest
drawing me to the tactile, the feel
of beach sand

July 15, 2006 19:03


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Help with you family tree. Find out where you came from by tracing your family roots.


Lighthouse
Submitted by: SusieRN
Author: Unknown

When the daylight fades and the shadows fall
Let the light from the lighthouse shine on me...
And the sun sinks low in a troubled sea
Let the light from the lighthouse shine on me
And the night winds blow and the rain falls free
Let the light from the lighthouse shiine on me

At Inverloch

The magpie's voice floated across the oval as the sun was warming in the summery sky
In what promised to be a beach day for many a few hours of sun and ocean to enjoy
At Inverloch its been said the sea is slightly warmer and the beach is never overcrowded there
And in a place that is free of pollution so good to breathe in the healthy ocean air.

At Inverloch a sea side Town in Gippsland life always goes on at a steady pace
And even in the height of the holiday season it never is an overcrowded place
Some families from the eastern Melbourne suburbs at Inverloch enjoy their holiday
They swim and on the wide beach play beach cricket and for a few weeks relax by the bay.br>

At Inverloch a two hours drive from Melbourne a place of peace and beauty by the sea
Life goes on at a steady pace as usual even in the holidaymonth of January
The magpie's voice it floats across the oval as the family pack their lunch and flask of tea
For the five minutes walk that will take them to the wide beach for two hours of sun or maybe even three.

Francis Duggan





Beach Glass
by Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
ot touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass— br>amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.


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maggie and milly and molly and mae
by e.e.cummings

maggie and milly and molly and mae
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

mae came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea.




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