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Sometimes
You’re the heavy rain
that ends the thirst and drought.
Sometimes you’re the ocean
between the waves.
Sometimes
You’re the sunrise
That breaks the night.

Sometimes

You’re the train that never arrives.
Thoughts this morning. Feedback is appreciated.
Bree 5d
waves crash like scrolls
on tan depths
holes in sand
demons in heaps


Starfish cartwheels
in ocean tides



relinquish    



All the points propelling
nosedive banks
dunes of lands forgotten
   never there
   always changing


a spare seaweed
to cover squares
of liquid candor and civilized speak
   a language only mean swans
          And tides can provide.
My queen! Inhale each grain of sand and reign!
Take all you touch: castles, footprints, poems
sung with muted cries of rasping pain.
Your servants await, bikini women and ******* men.

I stand knee-deep, each night you rise and fall,
stealing bits of me until all that remains
is an ivory statue studded with barnacle kisses.
A trip to the beach
Lee 6d
I cut it because,
I know that I I don’t.
A cold swollen body,
Won’t always float.
Saltwater’s more harsh,
It stings in my throat.
Traversing the seas
In a decommissioned boat

They say when the lungs,
Swallow it in,
You're taken over by calm,
Three scars on your shin.
Lee 7d
I don’t know the ocean
And she doesn’t know me
Surely she remembers more
But I’m a mountains and trees girl
Patience is key
Written on the balcony of the condo we rented for the week
Lee 7d
How numb
Can your toes be?
That the horseshoe *****
Who don’t even have the means,
Can pinch your skin and make you scream?
Wrote this one after a beach day
The scent of salted ocean air tangled in the grains of sand.
Waves collide with the water ahead,
creating sea foam—stretched like melted marshmallows in July—
drifting ceaselessly toward land,
just as we, humans, move endlessly
toward a life yearned for—
one we may never fully hold.

Waves, large and small,
mirror the tribulations caused by those near and far,
echoing the force of tidal waves
that leave us aching in their wake.

Still, we lament them—
gazing at the light above the water
while never truly seeing the waves themselves.
We neglect the face of distraction,
yet contemplate it, unconsciously.
Dylan A Jul 15
The sea rose,
a basswood tree
restlessly kept;

perhaps, in due time,
won’t it fall?

It’s wood,
perhaps,
it would.
she calls me by my name,
and i answer without words—
only an offering:
a silent prayer,
bare skin,
a breath held,
a promise kept sacred,
to worship her.

she calls,
and i answer with stillness.
like dusk slipping
into the night—
utterly, completely—
pulling me apart
under the tears
of moonlight.

she calls
even as i soak
in her waves,
as they kiss my collarbone,
make heaven blush
when i fall to my knees,
laced around her soul.

her intention to claim me
was there from the start.
written in her whispers
******* my thoughts.
she never asked
what broke me.
only reached with rippled hands
to take my weight,
press it into the riverbed
like something malevolent,
already forgiven.
this one is about the ache i carry for water — for the stillness, the surrender, the quiet kind of belonging she offers.
july 14, 2025.
J M Sweeting Jul 13
simple drops of the sky
like a clear, rich melody
a grouping of crystal nebulas
with the coolness of the sea
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