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Peter Simon Feb 2015
The orangey sun would soon die,
Dipping in the warm open oceans
Black unfeathered birds would fly,
Accompanied with teeth of draconians

The blue sky would be painted black,
And rounded moon would be lighted up
Little suns would start to spark,
With the cricket sounds, abrupt

After 12 rounds of the shorter hand,
The ball of fire will start blazing back
And by the shore, I would stand
Still, wide smiles and plenty laughs I lack
the Sandman Jan 2015
You are
The whispering of the sea
Crashing anger at violent shores-
Lapping lovingly at lonely rocks.

You are
The affectionate bite,
And pressed tooth on lip. A brutish
But gentle expression of passion.

You are
The soft murmur of uncertainty,
Rustling against soft skin-
A (lost) exhale of heaving breath.

*Your skin and flesh and bones
Are I think not made of
All the same stuff as mine.

   You are water; you're iron;
   You are whistling wind.
   You're the purest sin
   In which I've ever sunk.
Audrey Maday Jan 2015
Your eyes are storms,
Grey and silver and constantly
Churning, lightning sparking the
Brilliance within them.

My eyes are rocks,
Upon the shore,
Where your storms beat waves,
Relentlessly, but the rocks still
Stand.

A ship tried once,
To sail between the two of us;
Storm and Shore.
But your waves were quick to beat them,
And upon my rocks, they were quick to break.

No ship has tried to sail between us,
Since that fateful day.
Such an odd pair we make,
But we always find a way.
WickedHope Jan 2015
i am seaglass
collect me along the shore
i am once jagged edges
now dulled by time and salt
wounds full of salt
i have forgotten what sweet is
foggy clouded
clarity lost for the sake of beauty
i am discarded
collect me along the shore
i am scattered in pieces
that no longer fit together
curves and waves
i am tough i am smooth
i have lived my life in rough waters
water and rock
have rearranged my shape
i am under your feet
collect me along the shore
will you hold my fragments
and tell me i am beautiful

- - -
Capitalization and punctuation
are completely optional,
no matter what anyone says.
Remedy Dec 2014
I went to the beach to get away.
My tears followed, though stunted
by the windchill.

I gazed out at the fleeting waves,
and wanted to walk behind them
until we were one.

The stars warned me to sit,
to watch safely from the shore.
I sadly obliged.

A few burst of light captured
my weary eyes in the sky.
Shooting stars.

I closed my eyes with a wish,
over and over again until my tears
matched the stars.

I only want one thing in this life.
If I cannot have it, the stars will acknowledge
my detour through death.
AMcQ Dec 2014
I rarely yearn
for childhood days,
but these blue skies
encase me in
a haze of melancholy.
The swelter of
Summer sun in
sweet smelling cars.
Sand falling dry
from pockets and
untangled hair.
That rush of ice-
cold water, from the
wrong tap; always
with the promise
of ‘penny sweets' when
loving, aged hands had
towel-dried behind ears.
I miss the smell of
sun on my arms...
the taste of sea
on my knuckles.
The warmth of copper coins;
leaving circular
designs in the palm of
my hand.
Inver is a tiny little place in County Donegal. The photograph on my cover is of Inver Bay, where all my memories of the sea were made.
poems with you start like the breeze on wild shores
there's salt in each verse and their words taste
like lips smeared in chocolate
before breakfast

poems without you are houses
ripped off at night by thieves
they are the empty souls untouched
by God
tombstones forgotten in winter

some poems are poor and some
are rich
some open the door some close it
some are bonnie & clyde
some jane & john doe
and some don't even rhyme


my poems come my poems go
rhymes laugh out loud or grieve
but from this poem on you'll know
why you should never ever leave

*(I wonder if I should post this)
* this is an experiment between real feelings/ a poet/ a muse and their story...
Beth Richter Dec 2014
And I still love him.
After all this time.
My heart still longs for him the way the ocean yearns for the shore.

Relentlessly, hopelessly, pitifully.

No matter how many times the ocean draws away,
it always finds itself crashing back into the arms of the cold, unstable shore.
H W Erellson Dec 2014
Out on the runway, screaming at grey engines
how did he not open his stomach up in front of the T.V.?
how did Tommy go on living,
the boy never showed, they were to fight at 3, after school
who will I fight now? Who will I hurt?
Who has survived the drowning
Black Atlantic,
bone nails clawing to shore,
writhing in the black tentacles
of scuba gear.
Who stalks the land anew;
unafraid.
for Max, whose wounds are fresh, but healing.
mark john junor Nov 2014
she waits for me
in the warm sunlight
she calls to me
in the beautiful night
she sends love notes in the breeze
filled with her longing
filled with the bright beauty of together forever
she scatters her devotions along the river of my dreams
fills my heart with such comforting joy
fills my world with her beautiful soul
love letters written in the sunshine
adoration written in birdsong
she waits for me
on a springtime's beautiful sandy shore
waiting for my long winter to end
don't worry my love i will be there soon
and we can run brave through the rain hand in hand
and never ever let go
we can be together forevermore
wait just a little longer my love be there soon
and we can watch that sunrise together forever
(twenty one years lover and i still
dream you in sunshines sweet kiss)
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