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lua May 24
Crashing waves against the crunch of sand
Touches my feet
Sinking into the softness beneath me
As the water stains my toes blue
And paints goosebumps
Paints chills
Across my legs
Up to my stomach
Full of the same crashing waves
Those which curl
And spin in whirlpools
Up to my chest
Into my lungs full of seasalt
And the bitterness of the morning sun
Down every branching vein
That reminds me of mangrove roots
Yet pale and blue
So small and delicate
It reaches my own shaking fingers
And to the rosiness of my cheeks
All I hear is the soft ringing of windchimes in my ears
And the splash that dissipates into nothing but tiny droplets
Maybe that’s what keeps me awake at night.
Sindi Apr 19
Seaside
We lied
When we said we would hide
It was not intentional
It is just when you got to ten
There was no place to hide
At the seaside
© Sindi Kalumba
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/
Simon Piesse Jan 13
Said the gull to the Helter Skelter:
‘Did you know, when the oak was felled
You would, one day, delight a girl
With raven eyes, who’d lost her way
And wound up starting fires?’

The gull went on:
‘Did you know, when the oak was cut
This wayward girl would grab your mat
To climb the stairs of our own prayers
To outshine all the spires?
And, did you know, when boards were made
A dusty offering to the lathe
You would, one day, tease out the sap,
The wildwood sap within her bones
Confounding all the liars?

So, you should know, when planks were bent
Twisted, slotted, primed and painted,
That this lost girl would one day jump
Up higher than high flyers.'
Carter Jan 9
Standing upon the sea shore
I start notice that I see more.

I then begin to ponder
What's down there I wonder?

Planes and boats? relics of war?
Fish and crustaceans? creatures galore!

Perhaps I'll get a boat, something to restore
Yeah, that sounds nice.
With woodgrain décor

and Hopefully I wont crash
N ' end up ashore
First...
Norman Crane Sep 2020
see the mirror mirror the sea
thyme scents sense time
me and you sleeping sleep in you and me
waves disquiet these quiet ways
and continents wear down down where continents end
barques dock while wild dogs bark
at oars or at
noon
redcurrants, sand beaches, beeches and recurrence
our morning mourning hour
terns whirled there / their world turns
The challenge here was to create a poem in which each line is itself plus its sonic reflection (see the mirror / mirror the sea). The theme was the seaside.
Jennifer May 2020
i’ll remember the sound of the
ocean gently lapping the shore, and
the sound of birds chirping - which birds
i can’t be sure -
i’ll remember my feet blistering, and the
taste of red wine
i’ll remember the blue 10pm sky
and two magpies giving a
sign.

most of all i’ll remember the restless
joy that i feel, my yearning that reels,
my eagerness to escape and
my emotions, slowly taking
shape.
jack cariad leon Feb 2020
she ceased
seaside shell sales
seeing as she suffered
several severe seizures
sitting supposedly safely
by the seashore
inspired by a lyric in the pagan babies (band courtney love was in) song best sunday dress - "No more seizures by the sea"
Lily Audra Feb 2020
When I cycle without holding the handlebars on my bike,
I wonder if I look arrogant,
Like a bit of a *****,
But
In winter I don't care
because as I let go
and straighten my back and lift my arms and open my mouth and breathe in the sea
I feel like a butterfly or a comorant or a bumble bee lifting and gliding and riding winter up and up and up,
I feel like a tiny yellow light has been lit like a candle at the base of my spine and the soft warmth from it is thawing my body from my ribs to fingers.

Winter wants to hurt me,
At least it feels that way,
Put a bag over my head and expect me to smile,
My scarf is making my neck sweaty and itchy and I'm sick of it,
The ice is creeping deep and deeper into my head,
Whispering words I thought I'd buried.

In books set against snowy backdrops with whisky in pubs and cable knit jumpers and hands to mouths,
Winter is warm and bubbling with atmosphere,
And though I've seen glimpses and sipped on spicy *** and given myself red wine teeth and sore fingers from sitting outside and laughed until my belly ached,
Today it just feels cold
Colder than cold,
Cold and hollow,

Unless I'm riding my bike with no handlebars and looking at the sea.
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