Category Archives: beach poems

Above

jdb photos, 2018.  To enlarge all photos, click on any one.


Above

By putting so much beauty so far beyond our reach,
what truths of the universe might nature try to teach?
One story told by earth and sea, here within our clutch,
another told by what’s above, that only eyes can touch.

 

The prompt today is above.

Annie’s World (At the Beach)

Annie Goes on a Beach Vacation

To read the poem that goes with these photos as well as to enlarge the photos, you must click on the first photo and then on each arrow on the right hand margin of each photo. If you are viewing via Facebook, you won’t see all the photos or the captions/poems unless you click on my URL or the name of my blog first. Facebook only shows a few of the photos unless you do this.

This post is for forgottenman, who asked for it!

 

Undulations

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

Undulations

The constant undulation and the murmur of the waves.
The crashing of the breakers as they beat against the caves
carved out by the chisel of the water making hives
at the edges of the world that ensconced our busy lives.

It craved us as its audience. It pulled us to its shore.
It calmed our petty grievances with its might roar.
When it chose to rage it could wipe away our world,
sweeping us away as its anger came unfurled.

At other times it lapped at us, assuaging all our pain.
That’s why we returned to it, over and again.
Walked along its edges, pierced its salty deep,
uncovering the secrets so long within its keep.

Every morning it brought treasures to our waiting hands
to examine as we walked along the morning-evened sands.
Dollars from the ocean depths, stars out of the sea––
left there to be taken or to be let be

for the next beachcomber to claim them for their own
to treasure on a mantel what the sea had thrown
like necklaces at mardi gras, cast blindly and for free
for denizens of dry worlds to collect on bended knee.

What we cast back on the waters determines ultimately
what the sea will one day give back to you and me,
and if we do not listen to the truth the tides may tell,
the music of the waves may be our funeral knell.

The prompt today is undulate.

Pelicans

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Pelicans

They float upon the gentle swells,
with chins tucked in politely.
Of all the birds, most dignified,
their movements never sprightly.

They look like grumpy butlers
named Oliver or Jeeves
in morning coats of softest gray
with wings tucked in their sleeves.

They may be only scouting
the source of their next meal,
for soon they take off to the air
with energy and zeal.

And soon they’re diving down again,
straight like an arrow shot,
down into the shallows
to see what can be caught.

Bobbing once again,
they lift their bills and then let slide
all that’s in their pouches
to another place inside.

I wonder if the fishes flop
all the long way down,
and this is why the pelicans
then fold their arms and frown?

 Version 2

The prompt today is shallow. This poem is a rewrite of a poem published a few years ago..

Birds of a Feather

poem


Birds of a Feather

Tossed about in the storm—the tidepools and the heather.
Cast adrift in the air like a tattered feather.
Blown wherever fate decrees, determined by the weather.
One surrenders all control when they are without tether.
Blown up to the highest points, then dropped to the nether.
Never knowing what comes next. Never knowing whether
somewhere there’s another soul, skin weathered into leather
to furnish some protection once we have flocked together.

The prompt today is tether.

Morrie at the Beach: Heaven Scent

Morrie at the Beach

Everywhere he wanders,
everywhere he goes
is a place to stick his
curious little nose.

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Birds are drifting over,
hundreds at a time;
yet his nose is stuck in
something more sublime.

Aromas are his poetry, 
scents to him are words.
He has no time for looking
at these air-bound birds.


Even when they’re floating
nearby on the sea,
He only has time lately
for odors and for me!

What to many is simply a bad odor can be fascinating to others. I am so curious about what Morrie can detect as he sniffs everything on the beach!!

Daniel’s Beach Bar

A La Manzanilla tradition is the gathering each night to watch the sunset on the beach behind Daniel’s real estate office and home.  I happen to rent the house next door and so nightly, even if I don’t always join them, I am still party to the sounds of laughter, talking and glug glug of tequila being poured into shot glasses.  On those rare occasions when there is phosphorescence on the water, the “Ohhhhhhhhh’s” come in loud waves and I run out to share the spectacle. Daniel’s beach bar is only one of the aspects of this special place that make it special, but it is one so familiar to me that I wanted to share it with both those who know it well as well as those of you who don’t. Not written to any prompt, this one is written from the heart and memory:

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Daniel’s Beach Bar

The wormwood planks above the sand,
set on pillars by his hand,
form a bench twelve feet or so
where every night townspeople go
to watch the sun sink in the ocean
and (if they should have the notion)
to share a tequila shot or two,
to chew the fat and share the view.

He is a solitary man,
tall and skeletal and tan.
Shirtless and shoeless, he sits among
the friends, like him, no longer young,
who choose this life of sand and sea
where they can be what they want to be.

A bottle cap sufficient to stub
his cigar smoked down to  nub,
he leaves the ones who gather here,
and grabs another bottle of beer
to stroll back to his office where
for another hour, he’ll type and stare
at the screen where other friends abide,
locked securely there inside.

Tomorrow morning, the town asleep,
the village vagabond will sweep
the sand for butts of cigarettes,
his luck compounded when one forgets
a pack with one or two inside.

And though there’s no one there to chide,
still, he quickly palms them and
moves through last night’s littered sand––
past empty glasses and one or two
tequila bottles devoid of brew.

Last night’s spoils in light of day,

give last night’s revelries away.

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