Atlantic Beach

For Merrill’s prompt for dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday – Nature, lost and found

Atlantic Beach
“Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom is realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.” Anthony Bourdain

The ocean waves go in and out with a soft shushing sound. It is just after sunrise and the tide is out. I walk along the strip of shells and seaweed left behind as the tide went out. I look down carefully, trying to spy the rare shell or sand dollar that floated in over the top of the detritus. Gulls wheel overhead and dive down occasionally catching a fish. Into my bucket it put a couple of Atlantic boats, some pencil shells, a rare whole scots bonnet, and a moon shell. On top of the pile, I gently place three sand dollars, whole. After half a mile I sit down to take a rest and drink from my water bottle. I am proud of it because it is a vacuum bottle, bright purple, and not plastic.

Watching the tide come in is exciting. The waves thunder in and the soon the water line is at the bottom of my feet. The line of shells and other items become caught in the waves and washed out to sea. I move farther up on the beach. The sand is golden and cool from the night and the sea oats wave in the breeze. I think about things sitting there. The sky is purest blue and the water deep green. I finally stand walk back the way I came. This is truly magic, this ocean. No one is around to disrupt the not-silence. No houses, no hotels, no piers. I stop and pour my shells back into the ocean. Who am I to keep these gifts that I am so unworthy of? Let them be gifted to one more worthy than I.
early morning –
gifts returned gratefully –
ocean accepts them

 

Beach Memories

For Kerry’s Prompt at Toads,Human Landscape Interactions.  The happened two weeks before my mother died last June.  She loved her beach!  We went down to Emerald Isle about eight times a year.

Beach Memories
I hold the bowl of cut strawberries for you.
Did we pick these? You ask.
I murmur, no mama, I bought these at the market.
You seem to sleep and then rouse.
remember that time at the beach…
your voice peters out and you sleep for real this time.
I remember so many times at the beach –
the sand dollars swirling in the waves
looking like alien space ships,
the walks at sunrise and sunset,
the times we looked for shells,
bologna sandwiches and warm cokes
for lunch on the beach,
laughing at a dog playing in the surf,
jumping waves,
digging a space in the shade of the dunes
and taking a nap with the sound
of sea birds and waves lulling us to sleep.
I wonder what you are dreaming of
while you sleep.
do you dream of those times?

Emerald Isle NC

Haibun: Beach Sand

For Marian’s prompt at Toads, one word: muddy

Haibun: Beach
Sand
“I wonder if my first breath was as soul-stirring to my mother as her last breath was to me.” Lisa Goich-Andreadis

My mother and I were a lot alike. One thing – we both hated getting our feet muddy. Walking in the dry soil of the garden, striding across the lawn in the dew of early morning, skipping in the waves of the ocean and dodging inbound crabs in the sand – yes. But muddy feet? No.

When I was interring her ashes in her mother’s grave, I took a ziploc bag of North Carolina beach sand and put some into the hole I had dug. I poured in her ashes and then the rest of the sand. I patted it down firmly and placed several rocks on the place. Sweat dripped from my face like tears.
hot summer day –
buried in NC beach sand
that she loved dearly

 

Haibun: Winter Ocean

For De’s prompt at Quadrille Monday. The prompted word is kiss.  A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words and uses a prompted word.

Haibun: Winter Ocean

Walking along the shore, snow begins. The sky is grey overhead and golden sand becomes white. Broken shells roll in the surf. I hold my face up to the sky to be kissed.
lazy snowflakes kiss
the shore – ocean kisses back –
winter romance blooms

 

 

 

Beach

A micropoem for Today’s prompt at Real Toads, day 19 of the Nanasomething. Sanaa has given us several word lists from which to choose to make a poem. I chose the list with blue, mouth, sensual, features.  I chose a micropoem ’cause I didn’t want to scare Shay with a haiku!

Beach
the dominant blue sea
opens its mouth and sensually
licks the features of
a submissive beach

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