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David Leger Aug 2014
These here, these great seas,
All the poets have come to you;
and stood in awe before vast pleasing views,
Of tempests wrought great sorrow,
Of skies filled with ore and silver light,
Of deep unknown and questioning existence,
Of gods, and heavens more vast than you,
Of who sails beyond the horizon,
Of the winds and scents of your shores,
Of endless sands to set foot upon,
Of all the arcane myths and lores!

How may I greet these great seas any differently?
So that I may cause a shift in the tides?
Alas, dreams far grander than I, these are;
The tides will shift as they may,
And every soul will be swept away.
A tribute to Whitman's style.
Amitav Radiance Aug 2014
Among the sea of discontentment
There is always a green isle
Have to swim against the tide
Land of hope waiting for weary swimmer
Who has paddled the rough seas
Finally finding a paradise
Maggie Emmett Aug 2014
She comes each day
to comb the beach
for words beneath the waves.

Tongue crests roll curled
syllables to shore

The salt wind catches
breath and sighs

claws the chords
and clamour of the stones

reckless tide scratches
sentences of sand

splintering into time
particles and meaning

tidal drag snatches
back surface similes

slips back to blue
and thunders timpani

drifts back to reflected light
smooth land and water.

© M.L.Emmett
allissa robbins Aug 2014
"Love" is the tide.

We are simply parts of

The shore.

Our hearts are grains of

Sand, collected and becoming

A shared entity.

“Love” is the tide.

We lie around waiting,

Waiting,

Waiting

For the waves to take us

Over.

Waiting

For the salt to kiss our lips,

But the taste lingers a

Lifetime.

When the tide gets high,

That’s when we lose ourselves.

We drown in the salt and

Sea plants. The weeds

Wrap around our lungs

And take our oxygen.

The ocean conjures up

A storm of

Stinging eyes and

Dry-heaving.

“Love” is the tide.

We long for it to sweep

Over us—

To consume us. Waiting,

Waiting,

Waiting

For the breeze to push it our way.



But humans don’t

Have gills.

We can’t breathe beneath

Masses of H20.



So we drown within

It. Blanketed in the waves.





A.R.
Emily Archer Jul 2014
The tide is laced in my veins, in every emotion, nerve, cell, atom.
It has taken the ability to love from me because no matter how many times I try to plant a kiss on the shores of someone's heart, they keep sending me way.
Gary Jul 2014
An empty bottle washes a shore.
It's contents, like mine
Are gone.
The oceans water is rough,
Like my life's journey so far.
This breeze tonight, is bitter cold,
Like my heart, left sour and old.
I have no thoughts of good nor bad
Maybe a few *******, but who wants that?
It's lonely out here alone,(beautiful as well.)
So I carve these us less words
Upon this old piece of drift wood.
Throwing it from my shore,
To only be found by some other sap.
I think I'm keeping the bottle thou.
No one ever understood me until we met.
Thanks to you cold, rough ocean's tide.
Thank you for this beautiful gift of a new friend.
VRO Jun 2014
One night, I saw her.
The light. Her cheeks.
The shining grin
coming and growing and fading and going in
a matter of weeks.

She's always phased me,
the side of her she never lets me see.
Were you once a part of me?

What do you go home to?
You're always alone, always alone
always alone.
Will you let me show you you're never alone,
never alone
never alone.

To all the lovers' who made their letters
put in a bottle tossed out to sea
they're just as lost as we are
they're just as lost as we are.

To all the lovers' who made their letters
put in a bottle tossed out to see
they're just as lost as we are
they're just as lost as we are.

You'll keep your distance.
I'll keep my space.
At first, it seems as though a boy-girl relationship poem. But really, it is about the relationship between the Earth and the Moon. Read it through again with that in mind.

Also lyrics to a song for Morning Arms.
www.morningarms.bandcamp.com
svdgrl Apr 2014
Summertime sands scorch in between our bare toes,
the waves soak them cold and moist like a dog nose.
Let's build a strange castle in the shape of a heart.
Adore it, attempt to perfect it, pose for pictures.
We like to dig our fingers deep into its center.
If we press too hard, it crumbles, and we have to fix it better.
But we like to dig our fingers deep into its center.
We press too hard, it crumbles, and we can't fix it better.
It's getting late, the sun is low, the breeze chills our bones.
Tide is climbing back to us, and we've got to go home.
We've left our sweaters with our mothers
who disappeared like our shoes.
Pygmalions sans Venus blessing,
making love building blues.
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