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toleomato Apr 20
On particular days,
when the weather is fine,
it is difficult to distinguish the cerulean sky
from the sea.

I stare listlessly from a window
on the 13th floor
and envy the flash
of a passing seagull.

It passes me by
as if this is all
nothing
and fades into the shoreline.

I suffer bitterly wondering if
I had been as meaningful
to someone as
this seagull had been to me.

I could be at peace knowing
I had amounted to at least that much
during my
short time here.

Perhaps then,
I could forego
the whole chirade
and let her pass me by
as if it were
all nothing.
low tide

first breath of sunset

on the gull’s wings
Anemone Nov 2020
Fly away little seagull
You are lost in the storm
Fly away little seagull
You need to be safe and warm

Fly away little seagull
Smaller than all the rest
Fly away little seagull
Don't be afraid to seek out your mother's nest

She will welcome you
Take you beneath her wing
And though you never said you needed
There's a lullaby she will sing

Through the storm
She is the keepers light
Guiding you right home
Through the cold and endless night

Fly to her little seagull
Sing a song in return
Fly to her little seagull
For you still have much to learn

Life is hard little seagull
People can let you down
But you are a tough little seagull
And she taught you how to stand your ground

Soon the day will come
When you'll spread your little wings
And fly out of the warm nest
But you'll remember the songs she sings

And think of each time she held you
In the dark of night
Remember all the love she shared
And smile as you take flight
Written for Mother's Day
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2020
The beach was inviting,
A balm to my stressed soul.
The salty ocean air was impish today,
It hugged me and caressed my dishevelled hair,
It even tried to lift my skirt above my knees but I held onto it tightly.
The young white waves came running towards me,
Giggling and splashing sea water over my toes and above my
ankles,
One large swell rolled me over and shouldered me under,
Drenched I played with the waves.
Soon I swam over to the bobbing boats to rest,
A seagull hovered over me before flying away.
Before the tide could recede I swam back to the shore,
I walked along the beach collecting shells which took my fancy ,
The warm sand was delighted to feel my bare feet. And as the sun went down the sky was splashed in peach and orange and purple colours,
The sun's warmth still lingered on me,
I decided to head home.
23/6/2020
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
grandpa howd you survive this long

I jest'kep breathin'evertime
I thought I was drownding but i knew

I wasn´t ¿donde?

there, joemomma, been there...

the beentheredonethat might get old, but

you know the feeling but you

new to that bit of intuition you feel

every time you think it,

physical effect of deja vu, experience

shoots straight through short term memory

to I remember the feeling realm of

once, before now, but

I do did done that very idea that just flew by.

---
cast your bait to the wind, no seagull will ever be your friend.
On a cold and cloudy woden's day, I wandered in literal clouds of joy at knowing the internet did occur while I was alive.
Ira Desmond Feb 2020
I spotted a gull flying over the bay
not more than a foot ‘tween her wings and the waves,
with feathers unfurled, flap and flail as she try,
she hadn’t the strength left to climb toward the sky.

I spotted a gull flying over the trees,
unable to fight the northwesterly breeze,
he tottered while gliding, unsure of his route,
completely resigned now to be blown about.

I spotted a gull in the jaws of a shark,
his hollow bones breaking, with blood running dark.
His face was of shock now, amid razor teeth;
how could he have known what was lurking beneath?

I spotted a gull on a rock, old and frail,
her beak nestled close to protect from the gale,
alone on a cliff ringed by thundering sea.
I wondered what plans fate was making for me.
Lilli Sutton May 2019
Maybe I wrote too much about it
and that’s why I can’t ever forget now.
I looked back at old pictures yesterday
and noticed that she squints her eyes in pictures
the same way I do. Like we both want
to shut out the world when we smile,
close our eyes to seal in that happiness of a moment.

I believe that some of our parts
were probably made of the same substance,
or at least at the same time.

Sometimes I feel like a seagull
in a shopping center parking lot –
so far from the place I was made to inhabit.
They gather in droves and shriek
and it sounds so loud
without the ocean waves to drown their voices.
Maybe I’m just too noisy for West Virginia
and one day I’ll be somewhere that makes sense –
where I’m the right volume, like starlings
in Europe, like kudzu in Japan.
04.29.19
Kieran Mar 2019
If you ride the wind,
Or at least motor yourself,
On a schooner out to ten pound island,
You may have the luxury of meeting Mooch.
He is the seagull who likes Cheetos.
Life for Mooch is simple,
All he has to do is sit on the arm of Owen,
The boy who pulls the sails
Or Captain Harold,
The man who built the boat,
And eat enough Cheetos to stuff his throat.
He never tells any of his friends,
For fear of missing out on Cheetos.
Oh, to be a seagull.
Oh, to mooch off of others
And still be loved.
Written about a trip in Gloucester harbor on a schooner.
Arisa Mar 2019
sand sticks onto my legs
as i crawl out of the water.

stench of salt in my hair,
as i walk the shoreline.

french fry in gull's beak,
as i toss my food away.

god i love the beach.
- anyone who hates the ocean needs to fite me >A<
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