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if you took a hammer,  

cracked open my cranium


and placed the open skull to your ear,

you can listen to the song of love i have for you


as it swings and swells in time  

to the oceans of loneliness &  


longing:  

still singing.  

                                              by griff
He gave her the sea,
when he as the ocean.
He gave you a sea shell,
when all he has was a sea shell.
Arisa Mar 12
shoreline littered

broken shells,

bits of seagrapes,

parts of a dead crab,

and footprints.
hmm.
Peter B Oct 2018
I love sea.
In my previous life
I must have been a sailor
or seagull,
or a seashell.

This life scares me,
but I'm not scared to die.
I know I will be a sailor
or a seagull,
or a seashell
in the afterlife.
Imelda Dickinson May 2018
WHITE, BLUE CAP WAVES ROAR IN, PULL OUT

SWEEP DEEP OCEAN FLOOR

SHELLS SMOOTH, SHELLS ROUGH, POINT CURVED

PUSH ON BEACH AND SHORE

WAVES AND WINDS SHAPE

ATLANTIC’S COAST

I PICK UP SPECIAL SHELLS FOR YOU

HOLD THEM GENTLE IN YOUR HAND

ARE THESE GIFTS FOR YOU NEW?

SO WHEN YOU SEE YOUR CHOSEN SHELLS

REMEMBER OCEAN WATERS WIDE

STORIES TELL, ABOUT YOUR SHELLS

WHEN CREATURES LIVED INSIDE!

WHITE, BLUE CAP WAVES ROAR OUT, PULL IN

OCEAN TREASURES AGAIN BEGIN
Poem by Imelda Dickinson, Written for the Head Start program. www.imeldadickinson.com
Kim Essary Apr 2018
Listen closely to the sound , this seashell that has floated upon the shore  of white sand, as you place it's magic upon your ear, the rippling sound of the crashing waves is what you hear.
Oh how I wish I could fit inside, for the tide descending back into these Waters of blue, carrying me into the majestic ocean floor beyond the sands never touched by man, the beauty these Waters allow us to see, I am imagining how mysterious the rest could be, for we haven't a clue.    Laying beneath the so much unseen , lost city's, sunken vessels, treasures of a time long ago , the story of another time  all buried beneath a place we dare not go. Laying beneath the grounds of our feet another world  left undiscovered , only to imagine, the the secrets it keeps , the magestic land that remains unseen.
The ocean holds so much beauty and mystery of a time long ago. I would live to discover all the things we don't know
mediocrity Feb 2018
On a bed of wet sand and seaweed left behind
by the receding tide rests
a seashell,

A testament to survival of even the softest forms of life,
now fractured and empty but
still beautiful.

Press it to your ear and listen closely. Can you hear?
That distant roar like crashing waves?
The ocean? No, it's

A song sung in low, muffled moans, a lamentation for the
hollow space inside that was once called
a home.

Lamentation for an existence that once held purpose,
to protect and defend seekers of shelter as a
glistening shield, not

A shell too cracked for all but the most desperate of
hermit ***** to hide in for more than
a moment.

The seashell weeps, for it can do nothing but lie,
beautiful and useless and
broken,

Crying too softly to be heard
except by those who
stop
to
listen.




Until the day when a warm, gentle hand scoops it from its
lonely bed of sand into a bucket with
reverence and care

To take it to a place far from the ocean's teeming depths and
the beach's salty shore,
perhaps

To be ground to luminescence and serve as the star
of eye-catching jewelry that frames the face like
a work of art, or

To adorn the sand castles of children that will inevitably be
washed away, though never forgotten, like
childhood itself, or

To be a cherished memento of that day when you tossed your
fears into the sea and walked away with a sunburn and a
fit of infectious laughter.

The seashell weeps, cradled in its simple plastic bucket,
a ferry into the unknown where perhaps,
perhaps

That which is
hollow and
broken is
not
useless.
sometimes tho u gotta pick u up and throw u in the gotdamn bucket urself
Sometimes I wish
I was a seashell on the beach
That you would pick up
And keep forever.
Antinganting: A magical charm or good luck piece.
Gladys P Apr 2014
Mild*  currents,  gently
******  seashells  on  the  ­seashore
In  pearlescent  *tones

— The End —