#pier
A nice reunion,
on the pier, babbling water --
and a quacking duck.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 3:43 AM UTC
Icy moon beams,
Follow dancing snow.
A clean white sheen,
Cast across the pier.
Waters ceased by icy means,
Frozen is their flow.
One moment crisp and clean,
On a winter pier.
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
walk me out ~ to the pier
sit by me ~ dip your toes
if I told you I was scared, would you
hold me and ~ hold my woes
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 1:06 PM UTC
when the bridge becomes a pier (Connectivity Poor!)
when:
extended arm, but finds no counterpart, empty air friction,
the bridge becomes a pier, ocean refuses to red sea split, yield,
road divides, dead-ended headed, no turnaround, only STOP! signs
when broken ends are splintered, jagged, glue won’t work, no fix,
two too twisted arms cannot hold on, too tense, too tight,
being over-alone, solitude passed, secrets go untold
tongue buds are busted broke, vicissitudes of pandemic,
voices, once golden, now just rusted, red flecked word droppings,
only one message from above: Connectivity Poor, Try Life Again, Later!
<>
?*What good is to be a King
when you cannot lead,
what good is to be a shepard
when the flock dying,
what good are David’s psalms
when God is not listening*?
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 12:31 PM UTC
The snow,
Whirls,
Spins,
And turns;
Shapes in the air.
A floating, flowing, fluidity;
Such substance in something
So diaphanous.
A performance,
Just as magical as
The starlings
They had watched
At dusk
By the pier.
Swooping
And gliding
The birds
Danced in the darkening sky.
That erratic black cloud;
Morphing, flowing, conjuring...
Forming new dimensions
While the glowing sun
Balances precariously,
Poised on the edge of the world
And then
Sinks,
Into the sea,
Leaving pink
Goodbye kisses
On the clouds.
Now,
Two figures are
Stood by the window,
Looking out and
Watching
The crystal dust drift
Within the flow of the wind.
A giant ghost's display of ballet;
Spinning, twisting, turning...
Leaning on each other
In silence,
In the darkness,
The skies' cold ashes
Sparkle
In the night,
Under the rays of the artificial
Street light
Outside.
Soon the train will leave the station,
Get further and further away...
Settling in the west for longer than a day.
Swallowed by the horizon.
Physics in the way.
She will freeze her face
And wave,
Borrowing a stoic's smile,
Safely held together,
Until within the veil
Of the warm taxi home,
Her eyes
Melt.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
there's a certain pier
out there
that dangles off the east side
of a certain island
that i would without hesitation call 'home'
if you sat out there in the middle of the night
just for kicks for the first time
you'd be slapped around by the angry cliff wind
you'd be overwhelmed by the sea rot
and you'd be threatened the lapping of dark freezing waves
right underneath you in the spaces between the creaky wet beams
and it's all screaming at you to get up and leave
but if you are like me and her
you'd stay
we always decide to stay
we snuck out there late at night
and we found that there's more to the pier than the wind and the smell and the
cold and darkness
we found that there is just enough space
between the windblown wood poles and salt crusted cables
for two beautiful people to squeeze between and dangle their feet
over the edge
to laugh at that cold water and speak streaks of light into it's darkness
we found that there's just enough starlight to take a fuzzy picture
of ripped jeans and flannels and knotted dishwater hair
and a pair of glasses
i didn't know that i could talk to someone the way i learned to talk on the pier
it taught me
He taught me
she taught me
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:13 PM UTC
I left the coast
on a tiny blue and red rowing boat
I left my shoes on the pier
and jumped right in
I row to a beach and look along it
in moonlight
searching for those certain blue eyes
that I only half-remember
but all I see is strangers staring,
why are they sunbathing at night?
I give up, row back to land
the only sound is me pushing water
I struggle up the rungs of the ladder
lose my footing
fall
then suddenly
I don't know
whether I made it up the ladder at all
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
I watch the waves
Crashing down below
I see the lighthouse
Lighting up the snow
I watch the sunset
Slipping out of sight
I see all the ships, make
Portraits in the night
I watch the stars intently
As colour fills my eyes
Tears of amazement
In wonder of the skies
I leave the embers glowing
I let my feet lead the way
Following the imprints
Along the rustic quay
I rest upon the harbour
I see your face appear
My is heart beating, racing
As we meet along the pier
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC
The stormy shore does blow
With all its wind and might
Then waves will crash
On rocks and splash
All throughout the night
***
Frothy waves tremble uneasily,
Seasick on the rolling tide
Shaken waters, choppy waves
Stormy seas on oceans wide
***
The troubled sea rolls in to shore
To bash along the rocky floor
And brushes quaint, the fishing boats
All of which no longer floats
***
The waves beneath my feet
My feet upon the pier
Day grows short, the end draws near
And dance along the rocky shore
For ever and forever more
***
Sea birds fly like kites
Soaring through the gusty winds
Sprayed by sea, they dance
In stormy revelry,
their wingéd fins of feathers
hoist them higher than the sails
Of ships, or spray of whales
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 1:50 AM UTC
Waves of flames playing the end of pier,
defying choking smoke. Starring in
a dramatic end of show, the ghosts
of bright theatre lights and magic nights.
Last chance performance before the
blackened bones of my childhood stand
empty as salty seaside shells.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 2:03 PM UTC
It was after we passed Moby’s Dock
that Ebony met her first thresher shark
He was five feet long or so
two feet shark, three feet tail,
and had just been pulled from the surf
to be proudly displayed
by the fisherman who had caught him
Ebony stood transfixed
her every muscle poised
her feathered tail twitched
as she leaned closer to inspect
and then recoiled from this cold-blooded beauty
still dressed in fleetingly iridescent
blues and greens and purples -
As the sun’s fading beams highlighted
the magnificence of this dying shark
I mourned his loss that night.
The noise and tourists
in the Pier’s arcades and bumper cars
did not detract from the peacefulness
of the Pacific in her chaos
for this was August
and they would soon go home
I watched a distant storm at sea
flashing fire against the deepening twilight
I stood, and Ebony,
gazing at the flashes of lightning
My hand felt her softness and warmth
as I stroked the waves of her black fur
relishing the cool wind on my face
listening to the rigging
of the boats resting at anchor off the Pier
Thinking about thresher sharks
Willing them away
from this place with its fishermen
and cold, baited hooks
Cori MacNaughton
13 Sept 2000
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
The aqua water reflects
white sunlight
immersed within
and throughout
the lake
A wooden pier
leans toward
the other
side of the water
An empty wooden
chair sits at the edge
of the pier
a canoe is quietly
drifting amidst
next to it
Across the lake
the dark green
shapes of mountains
appear.
Beyond them, purple
mountains in misty
focus
The soft blue sky
is powder blue
with fluffs of
white clouds drifting
The flickering light
sparkles
The scene ignites
The day is serene
and still
I look at the empty
chair at the end
of the pier and
I see Mother Nature
sitting in it -
overlooking the
beauty she's created
The stirrings of
water are splashing.
The harmony of
birds singing echo
in the background.
The sky becomes a
more and more
brilliant blue
As each second
passes my heart
excitedly beats
in sync with
the experience
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
We sat on that old pier,
as the others crab-fished by.
I found my hands beneath me,
in an attempt to keep them dry.
I traced the outline of a mountain range
with my tired, tearful eyes,
and the sun pinned me to the concrete wall,
stripping me of any disguise.
The fresh wounds on my shoulder
still oozed their precious blood,
yet we talked of days still to come
and summers, oh so far ahead.
Yet for a moment I almost believed that
what I’d done had been undone
but you struck me with reality
and my walls came tumbling down.
We looked at each other,
in the wild, unsettling sun,
with the sea-surf sparkling blue
and voices of our distant friends
ringing of the new
and interesting discovery that one crab, no, two,
had broken through the green net -
maybe that was you.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Skeletal remains above the waters edge
What was so full of life now
Rotting,
Decayed,
Unrecognizable
To what was pictured before,
The waves wash upon it
Weathering its remains
No one cares, they see the remnants
But not a second look or care
Forgotten,
Past,
Blind
To its fate, so uncaring even though
The remains still visible,
"We mourn"
Those who remember that life
Now consumed by the sea,
Soon another memory lost
"When the storm came"
What was there now gone,
"So much joy given"
Now but a broken shell pier
Its remains still showing
But who now knows for how long..
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
I sit and the sea surrounds me
My hair and body and face
Jagged rocks that cut
Glassy surface like hot
Steel through butter
And sprinkled sea foam
Envelopes itself in waves
Over and over
And over once more
Like never ending blankets
Strewn on the floor
And there is a song I don’t know
It buzzes far off while
The sky turns the water
Black navy blue
It drips and dribbles
Little ink drops
That envelop the waves
The stones
And the rocks
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
The coastline I walk, I walk not alone.
Solitary strolls, I do not condone.
I'd rather walk, hand in hand,
With you my love, upon the sand.
The pier we see reaching out
Into the ocean, gives no doubt
Of our love's walk off into the sea
Where we drown in the depths of our eternity.
Let not the waves disrupt our affection.
Wake in the comfort of our perfection.
Though gulls will call and sandcastles fall,
You will remain my all in all.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Seagull on rotting planks, bouy bells ding to fog and driftwood.
A culling fire exploits the docking shire.
Filled with chlorine shards, legs caught in the clap-traps.
Friar palms glisten,
Rage responds with frisson.
Clear view over water.
Feel your arms relax and slip onto your back while the culling fire attacks.
Bulbous deadening brain chimes
As the eyes slide down to your omission crimes.
Leave me alone in my despondent company.
Don't push the matter further let communication fail to nurture.
A warm breeze carries me
like a floating portrait towards unreal scented meats.
I'm here now, alone in the corner,
The greatest intimacy with the static patterns on the carpeted flooring. The king of this corner is the odor of plank seating and flowery detergent in this lonely corridor fluorescent light-bulb poles and old grain floorboards.
Now the returning shards of panic to uncelibate strangers drive me up, far, deep in my own ribcage to something wholly non-organic.
Time to clock-in, time to check out.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC