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Lucas Grant Aug 25
Catch me on the surfside
White shorts tan lines
Sipping bacardi watching guys
Surfing between splitting oceans with clear minds
Sun stirring lights blurring
Body working and still smirking
Cause its late summer and I'm gonna be sat here till midnight
Glasses down, legs out
Living life all mine so
Catch me on the surfside
Joseph Flores Jan 2018
Memories sweet ~
Salty dreams ~
Aqua-quixotic mind.
The last frontier ~
Summertime.

Girls Gone Crazy.
'In Surf I Trust.'
Bermudas.
Ray-Bans.
Beach or bust.

Abalone divers.
Seaside gusts.
Creamy skies ~
Blood-orange dusk.

Ocean perch.
Cliffside diving.
Crab claw, snap!
Child crying.

Nets ascending.
Fish school scatter.
Skipjacks dance.
Whale spray splatters.

Back bay blues ~
Cool to settle...
Boats return to quall.
Couples trek ~
Beyond the dunes.
Where love ~
Is known to fall.

Lights to glow ~
Dim to shining.
Rides and music ~
Boardwalk rising.
Dipped and Battered.
Fresh fish fryin'.

Flashing neon ~
Midway prattle.
"Step right up!"
Razzle-dazzle.
Ring a bottle.
Toss a dime.
"Winner, winner"
Every time!

At once and sudden.
Of my glimpse.
Soft-serve skin.
Perky sized.
Corduroy curls.
Topaz eyes.

Monokini ~
Thread bare brief.
Sheer to cover ~
Her coral reef.

Of my ask ~
To my surprise.
867-5309
Gently scribed.

Forelock flipped ~
Savory smile ~
Lips goodbye.
A kiss implied.

Boardwalk bevy  ~
Slow to nape.
Forth to wander ~
Eveningscape.
Foggy mist.
Lunar tide.
Surf and sand ~
All collide

Off the beaten ~
Of my stride.
Drunks and loafers '
On each side.

Sundowners.
Late night Croaker's.
Spent syringes.
Midnight tokers.

Spiny docks  ~
Cast slanted shadows.
Tiny shanty ~
On the shallows. 

Mild fire,
Silhouette.
Tiny dancers ~
Cheap wine fest ~
Marijuana pow-wow ~
Wasted luau ~

I've gots to go.

Back to camp.
Do-si-do.
Surfside fox-hole.
Jacques Cousteau

Sandy hollow ~
Tide in tow.
Pop tent clears ~
It's ebb and flow.

Underneath ~
A starshine drape ~
Edge of sleep.
Wide awake.
Unseen struggle.
No escape..

Dark abyss ~
Midnight still.
Blue Whale calf ~
Bloodlet trill.

Orcas make the ****



Eerie silence ~
Beyond the reef.
Mist and mizzle.
Much to sleep.
Roaring waves ~
Crash the beach.

Stretched a long ~
Sand and daft.
Dawn slowly cracks ~  
At the aft.

Pastel egg ~
In the sky.
Sunny side up ~
The morning rise.

Inspired sight ~
Dawn shine lends.
California coast ~
Never ends.

Sandy ribbons ~
Beach belt bends ~
Emerald coast ~
Santa Ana winds. ~

Wind swept sparkles ~
Main sails sway.
Catamarans ~
Balboa Bay.

Health nuts  ~
Spandex ~
Own the morn.
Cyclists. Runners.
Life reborn.

Bleach blond beatniks ~
Chap-Stick chicks.
Surfers paddle ~
Waves to pick.

Jack not nimble ~
Jack not quick.
Jack wipes-out!
Lickety-Split.

Quilt-patch slum ~
Checkered lots do fill.
A teenage infested ~
Squattersville.

Hawaiian Tropics
Silver Oxide
Pubescent hormones ~.
Flourish topside

Bohemian families ~
Converge on beach.
Along the Rocky jetty.
Mothers chase ~
Big straw hats ~
Rolling off the windy.


Lunchtime snack ~
Seagulls gather.
Gap-toothed kid.
Defends his platter.
Relentless gull wing ~
Pitter patter.


His dukes held up.
He stands to fight.
As the bird gawks aloud ~
He flees in startled flight.

Noontide high ~
Chaise lounge cozy ~
Calls my name.
On the dozy.

Sleeping. Headache.
Spittle drooling.
Sunburned.
I wake to wonder ~
Was I dreaming?

My summer daze!

Saw a paper ~
Tossed of mine.
As unfolded read:
867-5309

My summer days!
Lawrence Hall Jul 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     When the Rescuers Stood Down

                                               Surfside, Florida

As the rescuers stood down last night they left
Their prayers, their desperate hopes, their bitter tears
Upon those troubled rocks where they poured out love
They poured themselves, and they are empty now

What’s left must soon come down:

Concrete and steel, toys and dolls, Mama’s pictures
Letters from friends, ‘phones that won’t ring anymore
Eyeglasses, fountain pens, lesson plans, books
Spare change, unfinished poems, unfinished lives

The rescuers will return, and try again
Because their hearts are in that wreckage still
We live among heroes.

— The End —