"sandpiper" poems
Waves speak
to the shore
in rippled verse
scattered shell
strands of kelp
in the sand
each visitor
inscribes a story
*sandpiper, wigeon, crow
raccoon, otter, coyote*
I read each one
as I write my own
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.
--Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.
The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.
2.2k
Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper's wire legs and feet.
1.5k
the shoreline at dusk,
two elderly walkers.
a weaving sandpiper.
one thousand shells,
rolling to and fro,
in foamy froth,
click-snickering, away.
me and myself.
the wind, westerly,
upon the rise
and the sun.
saying farewell.
waving an apricot and
orange banner.
reading....all is well
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
water’s edge
. . . briefly, the tracks
of a sandpiper
--
a snow goose
cups its wings to land—
curve of the shore
--
a ribbon
of starlings twists, turns
— this narrow road
*It might be noted that I love
to write haiku about birds, in particular*
.
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 5:09 PM UTC
dreaming of a beach-side holiday
I'll get there by next month's end
to but feel the sea's cooling spray
an east breeze in the harbor's bay
floating softly about a coastal rend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday
sandcastles on the shore shall array
taking a walk by rocky ledge bend
to but feel the sea's cooling spray
sandpiper wings e'er fluttering away
twill be a relaxing time to expend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday
a time to enjoy waves in a blue cay
tasting the freshness of an ocean friend
to but feel the sea's cooling spray
the salty brine doth beckon a stay
if only this locale I could apprehend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday
to but feel the sea's cooling spray
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
*Mercurial , lonely Sandpiper , combing the watery shores
Invested in the day , without regard to a stormy afternoon , strolling the sandy , familiar edge foraged by her ancestors with diligent , quiet reserve , a living lesson to be learned* ...
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
why do i keep questioning
thorough the shadow and the hollow
are we talking about the orbs?
the nocturnal things in the welkin?
the radiance we see in the night while we're looking up?
what are all these about?
no
don't stare at me
don't you dare narrowed your eyes at me
these are pensioners
after those briers and numbers;
of prickly snatching shrubs upon the wanderers
(belly laugh)
yes
the shore laps
and that river banks
were once grilling to burst the blue,
to make me sue
as the sandpiper repursue
to eat the crumbs of Swiss cheese fondue
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
If I think it will be
and the thought is
worthy of me
will it be so?
A question to slow Sunday down when the world's spinning too fast, a crust cast on the rippling brook, a hook.
Reel me in I am caught,
the answer is not what I fear, but the riot of questions which rise on the incoming tide brings to me dread,
better to be living,
much quiter dead.
What I think's not the question or the reason to be
alone on the storm line watching the sea as the sea watches me waiting for the answer, but what will the question be?
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 5:07 AM UTC
Sandpiper's refuge
by the edge of blue water
in silent splendour
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 2:04 AM UTC
there's a void in my soul
something i pretend to have lost
when it seems i never had it
to start with.
it's long lost kisses
and pretty things,
dark clouds and weeping willows,
giving up
and holding on
whispering branches in winter
and the wailing of the ocean in summer.
and if i reach deep enough into myself
i know that it is love
something lost, nothing gained.
but that doesn't matter, really
when you're a washed up, beat up soul
with nothing left
but a sandpiper to bring you joy.
no love,
but that's not a bad thing.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC
darling mellow sunshine,
paint your words upon my tongue
so you do not have to move your lips—
i will do the task for you.
darling hilltop basking bluejay,
dance in defiance
in the long grass—
you never have to impress
anyone, but your creator.
darling dazzling firefly,
shining in the backyard,
sit with me on the porch swing
until the afternoon strikes us groggy
and we will sleep within the overgrown weeds.
darling seaboard sandpiper,
splashing lukewarm waves
upon the body you call yours
dream until your dreams become fulfilled.
darling intimate flower field,
the cumulus clouds above
draw shade upon our upside-down faces
be free and become one with me
a cautious lover,
a dandelion spread by the wind.
adorably flimsy darling,
i love you.
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 1:57 PM UTC