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Clive Blake May 8
The Cornish shore …
Where golden sand lies next
To dappled grey granite rock,
Where the sea breeze sweeps
And the mussels flock,
Where the rock pools gather
And the small ***** patrol,
Where the white foam curls
And the breakers roll,
Where the sea birds call
And the salt spray stings,
Where the seaweed sunbathes
And the limpet clings,
Where a stream’s course meanders,
And reflects the azure sky,
Where a starfish gazes skywards
And white clouds go scudding by.

By all means take treasured memories,
But please take nothing more,
And leave nothing but your footprints
On this sacred Cornish shore …
Cornwall is my homeland and l lies on the South Western most tip of the UK and is largely surrounded by the sea and its beautiful coastline.  Anything which comes from Cornwall, including its people, is/are described as Cornish. Cornish.  Cornwall is 'Kernow' in the Cornish language.
I arose from a chamber off the ivory coast,
passed the rainforest before taking a float

A dip in the island valley,
I trod to the meadow cote

Listened to the humming birds,
singing a halo note
https://www.instagram.com/wutheringsbronte/
xavier thomas Mar 16
My life my life my life my life, in the night time ...
🎼 🎶 🎵

Watching the skylines in the night time...
Nighttime(2x)
🎼 🎶 🎵

Ideas run wild in the night time...
Nighttime (2x)

Thoughts expand wide in the night time...
Nighttime (2x)
🎼 🎶 🎵

Just peace & love & hours(4x)

My life my life my life my life, in the night time...
🎼 🎶 🎵

Feel when I feel , what I feel, when I feel, what I’m feeling
In the night time...(2x)
🎼 🎶 🎵

Write when I write, what I write, when I write, what I written
In the night time...(2x)
🎼 🎶 🎵
Ioan Hazell Nov 2020
There's a whole world down there,
Beneath the thousand rippling films,
Whispering hymns at borders of sand,
The shadowy masses below our world.

A damaged world though it may be,
Due to the intemperate ways of men,
Its ephemeral topography
Will pay no heed to cartographers' pens.
Norman Crane Oct 2020
We've sailed cerulean seas to pastel shores,
Known only to the glorious few,
We have disembarked, ready to explore,
As our lone ship waits slumbering in view
of the glorious bay. Light paints daybreak
across the sky. We see the rising sun
through imagined jungle—and hesitate:
The image lingers, but it must be done,
Eyes close. Toward the interior we turn
remembering, and hoping to return.
Erian Rose Oct 2020
Green nights dusted newly fallen leaves
tumbling about aimlessly
in the mid-autumn breeze
creating pathways to the unknown

Deeper woods trailed sea salt skies
Smells linger of
forgotten books, hollowed trees
midnights up past sunrise

Stars twinkled above
A guiding path for all
of adventure that awaits
In the mountains to the coast
Robert C Howard Aug 2020
Sea stars, urchins and anemones
     ride the tidal waters at Rialto Beach
           swirling into shallow pools -
      clad in shades of blue, emerald and violet.

Gnarls of ancient driftwood line the beach
     up to the rainforest’s edge just beyond the rise.
           Pulsing waves dash and roar against the sea stacks
       where the Pacific adjoins the California shore.

Legions of seagulls circle above
       piercing the misted air with their cries
           and the tide, beckoned by the Sky Queen,
       begins to ebb and regain the open sea.

As the sun sinks into the western sky –
       the towers of Split Rock and Hole in the Wall
            are silhouetted against the horizon
       pasteled in gold, orange and burgundy hues.

Gray whales and dolphins breach the surface
       before plunging into the sacred depths
           where the ocean beats pulse on and on -
sounding resonant cadences
       through timeless hallows of infinity.
Lane O Aug 2020
Sea oats rustling
As salty gales drive ashore
Forever dancing
keith daniels May 2020
pilgrims, nomads, sentinels against the fury of the coast:
backs bent sidelong,
straining, still,
they sway with loving ease under the eye of that relentless ghost.
the ocean draws its breath.

that salt-stained silhouette of shore under a frosted glow:
a mirror pool,
watchful gaze.
thunderclaps of memory accost the tidal mouths below.
she smiles in her sleep.

in dreams aquatic, giants, titans cry their hopes and fears alike:
the air collapses,
crystalline.
the column pauses, dreading, waiting in anticipation for the strike.
and yet, the dawn arrives.
A winter's storm against the shore. The fragility of everything. The beauty of destruction. Stone thoughts that were stuck in my head while I was penning this one. Did it come through? Not so sure.
T Inkpoem May 2020
There are highways on the cliff tops
On the short grass amongst the bog pools
Made by rainwater and salt sea spray

Much used they run through
Crowberry and low grown heather
A world wide web of lines

Picking our the dry ground
The high ground by a hares breath
Flattened by the passing of pounding paws
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