"seashore" poems
There's oceans, a thousand crystal oceans
above Venus and the moons, swimming in the constellations, an endless orange stream of stars and angels, falling like rain, dripping like a prayer, soaking our old home.
So dance closely with me, for upon our red rooftop, let's enjoy the slow breeze, while the moonlight unites the oceans in the sky,
and covers the Brazilian seashore;
For it heals the soul of the green earth.
All the old sycamore trees, the owls, the hawks, and snakes,
all these things run for existence.
So hold on, onto my words,
Like your wedding ring, let me hold you close.
For in the quiet broken night,
I can feel your heart beat, your emotions that run like water.
Let me hear the river and rhythm of your desires, and your ambitions that lie
awake in you.
Let this, let this moment separate what you fear,
as I listen to the drums of your heart.
here
hold my hand, then let my voice unlock creation,
Echoing and speaking the languages of your dreams and desires,
for how I do love you.
Now see the moonlight's rule over the stars,
speaking pictures of grace into the quiet night.
In such a way the power of the moonlight stands like a king,
thus I will listen, open and unlock the waves of your dreams.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:21 AM UTC
Mild currents, gently
****** seashells on the seashore
In pearlescent tones
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
Sand on the seashore,
Wand and a bezoar,
Rustle of lace,
Legolas’ face,
Dragon’s and ghouls,
Monkeys and fools,
Knights, and Queens and fights
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Acting out our stories,
our games were all in fun,
playing naked in the water
by the seashore in the sun.
We played at being heroes,
villains, crooks and thieves,
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell,
pirates on the seas!
Suddenly I'm longing
to find you once again,
to see if you remember.
Do you remember when?
Our eyes danced together,
how imaginations flew!
I've never been so happy
as when I played with you.
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 8:12 AM UTC
I feel like I'm walking on the seashore
Some ground firm, some not anymore
Reality's clear when I don't think of you
But when my mind slips, I lose that good view.
It seems that I wallow in sand to my knees
When all I am doing is aiming to please
But when I look to what God asks
It's easier than struggling to fulfill my own tasks.
I feel like I'm walking on the seashore
And a lot of what fazed me can't anymore.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
On a plateau
by the seashore
sits a naked goddess,
a dryad or a naiad--
she laments a soft
song of mechanical
love. Bathing in the
quiet night, the
light, the
diamond-bright
stillness. She looks
at me with sad eyes.
On a conch-shell loveboat
together we sail
through snaky canals
of the heart.
Cool, lapping
water drips
from her long
seaweed hair as she
sings for me--
we go beneath
the sea &
look up at
intangible starfish
that mirror
the stars of the
surface.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
The shells are singing
holy songs now—oceans whistle through
their concert holes. ‘Holes drilled by predators,’
the seashore sings to me.
And I’m reminded there’s
so much more ancient than man.
So much that can never be written down,
for words are the limitations of our knowledge
—not its end.
And there should be something more
but really, how does one write what happened
with the seashells whistling by the seashore?
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
Look on me dearly:
your stolen sullied sullen
daughter. I could dig you up
to hold your bones but
want only to wash myself
away, like white foam
from the seashore.
If I burn what is buried,
is it cremation
or disintegration? You would fly
ashes in the wind, like a wish
given
lift, like an altar of lit
incense.
Think of learning of your blood:
yellow skin and rice paddies
and great-great-great-great-granddaddy
grey for the Confederacy.
Do two halves not one whole
soul make? I take
a breath
and leave it
free.
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
I was always like the sea
And you, my seashore.
I set off to conquer the world
Came back wasted, weary, vain
But you took me in your arms
Caressed my waves back sane
And our love, my love, is such
That it was built on hush and pain
Why else do you push me away
When my waters touch your terrain
Why else do I keep coming back
To be dealt with, this profane
Maybe for our love is such
It makes me come back again.
I will always be the sea
And you, my seashore
With all your folly you can push me away
And call me if there is more.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
i.
Next to the seashore
Of Boracay beach;
Seahorse's oscillate
To the turquoise seep.
ii.
Dawn turneth dusk
As the firefly's light;
The hole's in the sky
Burning brightly, heaven's sight.
iii.
Mine inamorata valentine
Covered in seasalt salve;
Out of the deep blue
She arise's from the shell's.
v.
Walking toward's me
Coming mine way;
We lay upon ourn blanket
Whilst cuddling, reminiscing the day.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
by the seashore
(by the seashore)
sits the soft decAy.
breast laden frames 1by1(in neat rows)
unquenchable olive flesh thirsty dirt
devour
but sotoo there is this:
in the beneath quiet quays
the green darkness pulls ugly
gull crys oily wings from hideous throats
virulent diseased avian beak *****
exhaling billowing bacteria
plume
disgusting riot of feathers
white grin bleached pearl bones repose sandy drug
and all the children laugh horribl e to spread sickly
f
ingers
by the seashore
erohsaes eht yb
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 11:10 PM UTC
Like crystal sand pebbles
Washed away from seashore
Like shooting stars in space
Propelled out of the night sky
Our beautiful black pearls
Young and innocent and ambitious
Full of life, full of tomorrow
Were stolen away in daylight
Away from unnatural habitats
Away from unsafe clusters
Away from our sleepy watchful eyes
Loosing their buoyancy
To the same fearsome monsters
That have plagued the land much
Bursting balloons at parties
Bringing mayhem as they visit
Making our warriors look childish
Forcing help from the world over.
The sun has gone to sleep
The moon has loomed too long
But to hope, we will cling
Till we find our lost pebbles…
© Raphael Uzor
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Sea shore
sea shore
beckoninng
With those warm rays
and gentle hands
Guide me forward
and I will follow
silently
ever knonwing
in my heart
that this is right
Seashore
I love your warmth
Your desire
and I love that I am a humble pebble
that sits watching seasons upon your isle
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 3:05 AM UTC
She picked it up from the seashore.
He encouraged her,
Flattered her with indulgence
To bring back her dying flame.
A girl once again,
She brought it home
In whimsically ebullient innocence!
On the polished floor
In a faraway city
It found it hard to walk
With the load of mollusk
And made a funny sight!
It strained its ears
But there was no sound of the sea,
No saline smell in the air,
Instead the water was sweet and insipid.
It went thirsty.
The food was alien,
It went hungry.
Soon they polished the shell
And celebrated addition of
Another showpiece in their room!
The crab had at last
Found a new home.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
What’s in a name?
It is what turns heads
It can cause a quiver in your body
Or a smile to curl onto your lips.
A name can be tarnished
Or reborn.
It can make you stand out from the crowd
Or join the masses.
It is more than what society deems
A socially acceptable form of
Introduction.
So let me introduce myself:
I used to feel my name in harsh syllables
Rooted in the language of my people’s history.
MAR or MIR meant bitter.
Like having the wrong taste in your mouth
Reminding me of MARor –
Eaten on Passover to remember how burdensome,
Difficult and bitter the Jews’ slavery in Egypt was.
IAM (YAM) – ocean.
Tumultuous, never still.
Always swirling and scaring children out of it.
MIRIAM – my Hebrew name.
Bitter sea.
I grew into that name resentfully.
I reacted when I was called that by fellow classmates,
For what else could I do?
But time went by
And I began collecting seashells by the seashore.
The ocean became a treasure and my name
Had a new ring to it.
Yet when eighth grade graduation came around I was given the option
Of writing Mariya instead of Miriam.
I was going to high school where I didn’t know anyone.
So no one needed to know my bitter past.
I also learned that a name was not made up of syllables
But of sweet sounds.
Mmm – like the taste of something so delicious your eyes close
And you feel yourself melting.
Aaa – you’ve just finished your meal and on this hot summer day
You find solace in the cool water running down your back in the shower.
Rrr – racing, running, reaching for the sky.
That’s the sound I want my plane to make when I can hold a piece of
Cloud in the palm of my hand and feel its silver lining.
Iii – the sound of “and” in many languages. The sound of something more,
Reminding me that this is not the end.
Ya – the sound of agreement and conclusion. As if that is all I have to say…so yeah.
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
i.
mist in solemnity
mutes the sounding
leather bells in silence
ii.
salt surges waste wantonly
gulls guttural in guises
of waifs
iii.
driftwood delivered dull of
deluged dilution
ochre offering to dune's
divestment
iii.
sea glass shivers into
shallow sandy pockets
scintillating color schemes
iiii.
conches lie abandoned
in stands of sea grasses
cacophonous quiet
v.
i am wide awake yet dreaming
sleepwalking
into the
waves
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/1/2016
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
It was from the sands of a windswept beach
I picked up pebbles that were easy to reach.
They had attracted my attention while walking by
their coloured well formed shape caught the eye.
There were so many to choose from I had to decide
in selecting those which my fancy would coincide.
It’s truly amazing what some people see in stone
a subject which a lot of our imagination is prone.
It was almost as if I’d found treasure on the seashore
and couldn’t help myself as I looked around for more.
The simple joy of collecting something that attracts the mind
is an age old activity which all people do have of some kind.
There were the questions of how many would I take
and what, if anything with them, one could make?
They were so abundant and all varied mostly in size
that it wasn’t hard to imagine an object or visualize.
It was also only the first location at which I found
that I thought surely there must be others around.
So with a sense of adventure I looked forward to explore
another beach while making my way home along the shore.
There were several other stops made further on the way
collecting various coloured pebbles amidst the sea spray.
Many times would I get my sandals wet along that coast
going amongst rocks and sand to the waters edge at most.
It was with a sense of gain and loss then after I’d taken enough
deciding right there and then to stop collecting which was tough.
The next step would be to think about and see what I would do
with all those beautiful pebbles gathered while passing through.
Maybe I could approach someone with the right flair and skill
who could make something with them and imagination fulfill.
That natural forming eroding action of water, ice, wind and sand
rarely requires the finishing touches of some other skillful hand.
Perhaps in fashioning some jewellery using metal to bind
a few pebbles together that are different or a similar kind.
Or maybe I could just keep some myself and give the rest away
a gesture of friendship toward which our memories would play.
Yes it was from the sands of many a windswept lonely beach
I came accross and collected pebbles that were within reach.
Isn’t it truly amazing what some people see in stone?
a subject in which much of our imagination is prone.
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
Only friendship.
You made yourself clear - clear as glass - that it could never be more.
But as I too am glass, a small shard of me broke off and shattered.
And why did it ignite my spirit to be in your presence, to be enfolded in your warmth
Why, why did it set my heart aflame, burn me with such flammable, incendiary envy
To see you lust after another, to want far beyond friendship with them
Why did that melt me
I was already committed to another, no matter if it was a dry, barren whisper of once-existing love or a forest of endless rain
It was commitment
Yet in spite of this, I continued to melt
Melting, right down to my core
Where I am just sand
Vulnerable, exposed, walked-on sand that could, at any second, be picked up by the wind and taken to another pit of uncertainty
But you
You dropped the empty attempts
And you began giving me your time
You showed me the naïveté that I am, and you took my hand and led me through a dark room
It was cold, and I was afraid
And you could not tell me that "everything would be okay"
Because this was real, unfiltered life you were motioning to before me
And though it was not a fully comfortable realisation,
The cold slowly thawed, from the outsides into my core, my sand
And as I thawed, as you too made yourself more vulnerable,
I at last began to take shape
Perhaps I have a calling
Beyond this fragile shell I consistently run back to for shelter, return to when it yearns back for my unearthed body to be protected again
But I knew better,
That when you molt from your armour,
Its purpose has been used up, and it is now just an empty shell, and it is time for that shell to be discarded.
And now, in my infantile flesh,
I trust that you can be my protector until my new shell can learn to harden
I am still unsure today if it has solidified,
Because I am focused elsewhere
Focused on you
My heart's every beat feels light at the remembrance of you
My mind's every thought a whirlwind
From the dissonance of reaching for you and being tempted to go back under the comfort of my old shell, from the knowledge that these two cannot coexist
But my soul, my soul is nearing soundness at last
Because with you here, I feel that my honest identity is at last coming to life
With you here,
Your breezes blow, but I do not fear that I will be carried away
Your shore arrives, but I do not fear that I am going to wash away
Though it was you who dared grind me down to my initial state of innocent sand,
You have sculpted me, even with the uselessness that I've felt I am
Shown me my potential
And made me a flourishing seashore.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
White foam drifting, turquoise waves swaying gently
to the shore. Looking out to open endlessness. Feeling
insignificant and vulnerable, yet relaxed as the sand
between your toes massages away every pain.
Carelessness fills up your rosy body as heat heals
your bones. Dancing overcomes you as you spin alone
on the crest where sea and land embrace. Your mind
is finally blank in thought and peace settles throughout
the delicate shades of the bright blue horizon which
is reflected by the sun deep down into your soul.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 12:15 PM UTC
“Oceans Above Venus”
by AR Combs
There are oceans—
a thousand crystal oceans—
above Venus and her moons,
swimming in constellations,
an endless orange stream
of stars and angels,
falling like rain,
dripping like prayer,
soaking our old home.
So dance with me—close—
upon our red rooftop.
Let’s breathe the slow breeze,
as moonlight unites the oceans in the sky
and washes over the Brazilian seashore;
for it heals
the soul
of the green earth.
All the old sycamores,
the owls, the hawks,
even the snakes—
they run now,
chasing their existence.
So hold on—
onto my words
like your wedding ring.
Let me hold you close.
For in the quiet, broken night,
I can feel your heartbeat,
your emotions
running like rivers.
Let me hear the rhythm of your desires,
the pulse of your dreams,
the flame of your waiting ambition.
Let this—
let this moment
separate you from fear,
as I listen to the drums
of your heart—
here.
Take my hand.
Let my voice
unlock creation,
echo in the languages
of your dreams and desires—
for how I do love you.
Now see—
the moonlight rules the stars,
painting grace
into the silence.
And just so,
in that power,
like a crowned king,
I listen.
And I will open—
I will unlock
the waves of your dreams.
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 10:41 PM UTC
You've found me in my den,
Too bad I can't harm my guests,
Come meet me at the seashore,
I'll show you the lion you didn't see.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC
If heartbreak cannot be healed
Will many people commit suicide on the hill
Because of the pain that they feel?
If heartbreak does not has a cure
Does there any people will be having fun at the seashore
Even during the snow?
If heartbreak does not fade
Even the time is the aid
To heal the pain that you create?
How people will tolerate
The pain that stay remain behind the rib cage?
If heartbreak cannot be avoided
Are people will get paranoid?
Or drown in a flashflood
Of their tears?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
1
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!
Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!
The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.
The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;
The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.
The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;
Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.
Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap’st what thou hast sown.
Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?
There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,
And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!
Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!
Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower—
And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum—
And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!
3.6k
The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.
Originally published by The Chained Muse. My translation is based on an untitled text in Bangla (Bengali) first published in 1912 and known as "60" due to its numerical placement. Tagore made history by becoming the first Asian to win the Nobel Prize for Literature the following year. Keywords/Tags: seashore, gathering, children, sky, sea, water, dance, sand castles, shells, boats, play, nets, swim, fish, pearls, ships, waves, songs, mother, lullaby, baby, cradle, tempests, death
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC