At the Beach

For Carrie’s Sunday Muse Blogspot

 

At the Beach
“The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.” Henry Beston

We sat on beach towels on the sand
watching the waves and gulls,
cooled by the breeze.
I held the shell I had found on the beach
just an hour ago.
I held it up to my ear and said,
Mama, I can hear the ocean!
She grinned.
But of course you can!
She took a sip of her iced tea
from the thermos.
I sat in front of the ocean
and continued to listen to the ocean
through my shell.

Haibun: Moon Ladder

Today is quadrille Monday at dVerse. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words sans title, using the word choice of the poet giving the prompt. Today Kim is our lovely pubtender and the word of her choice is “fret” or a form of the word.  I am writing a haibun – a Japanese prosimetric form consisting of a paragraph of non-fiction and ended with a seasonal haiku.

Haibun:  Moon Ladder
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” ― Anton Chekhov

The night is warm – it’s the beginning of summer. The full strawberry moon glows slightly pink, reflected on the ocean. I wish I could climb the moon ladder to the stars.
warm summer night –
the ocean frets at the shore
slowly wearing it away

a piece of the ocean

a piece of the ocean
“I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.” ― Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape

here is a piece of the ocean –
this bit of blue,
this bit of gold,
this bit of green.
I love you with the serene brutality
of the ocean –
but we are two different oceans
apart from each other
on different coasts –
loving eternally but never meeting
on the sands –
kissing and missing by inches.
always apart.
without the gulls the sky is empty.

 

Seagulls

For Kerry’s prompt at Real Toads, Let’s Be Imagists.  As a Note:  T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound are two of my favorite poets. I fell in love with them when I was thirteen.  This is Day 25 of NAPOWRIMO.

Seagullsj
“Good writers are those who keep the language efficient. That is to say, keep it accurate, keep it clear.” Ezra Pound

Blue sky
White clouds
Black rocks
Green ocean.
Seagulls dive cutting the scene into
ribbons

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

 

 

 

The Moon on the ocean

For Bjorn’s prompt on dVerse Poets Pub. Today he explores the sonnet. I have written a modern free form sonnet for the prompt as rhymes and I don’t play well together.Also posting on Poets United Poetry Pantry.

The Moon on the Ocean
The moon lies upon the ocean –
a sleeping dragon curled about itself,
one eye half open observing the world below.
Snow falls like meteors – a shower of cold fire
doused in the black water heaving itself
Upon the shore. This moon is red as blood –
The dragon’s eye carnelian in its glow.
Bits of phosphorus twinkle on the sand.
A crab washes ashore and walks a few paces
before being swept back into the blackness again.
Farther from the shore early breaking waves
show white in the blackness and ladders
from the moonshine track back to the moon
undulating gently upon the water. The
moon on the ocean is a mysterious thing.

d’Verse Poetics – Open Link Night #152

Today is Open Link Night at the d’Verse Poetics Pub. This means we submit a poem of our own choice of form, subject, etc. without following a prompt. Come join us today – add a poem of your own or read submissions by extremely talented folks. It has been brutally hot and so, optimist that I am, I am looking forward to cool weather and snow. My poem today reflects my love of snow – anytime, anywhere.   http://dversepoets.com/2015/07/23/open-link-152

January at the Beach
January – alone at the beach.
Gone are the self-conscious preening teens,
The children like raucous birds, their waists
Encircled with neon colored plastic swimming tubes.
Gone the sun worshippers – glistening with oil
And inviting skin cancer and admirers with equal aplomb,
Vendors wheeling carts of ice cream, cold sodas, beer –
The wave splashers and wave riders and wave surfers –
All of them gone.

January – alone at the beach.
Just myself and the dull tawny sand,
The gunmetal grey sky above, sea birds wheeling
In the limbo between grey sea and grey sky.
Into the salt air comes a breath of sweet –
I close my eyes and inhale, knowing.
Sitting there alone waiting…
Now the sea birds become silent as they dip into the ocean
For luncheon and even the waves, loud in the silence,
Seem to subdue and grow quiet.

January – alone at the beach,
Sitting on my blanket huddled in my down jacket –
I listen, I think, I inhale and then…
Like an errant feather from a high flying bird
The first snow flake circles downward and
Lands on the shell beside me.
More fall – large at first and then
Smaller and faster falling.
I stand and walk to the edge of the surf
Letting it brush against my boots.
Against the horizon, the snow is more plainly seen.

In the deep cold, the snow feathers coat the shells
Pebbles, seaweed, sand – mostly melting but making
fuzzy outlines on the forgotten artifacts
castoff from the abandoned ocean.
I hold my face up to the sky and laugh and stick out my
Tongue to taste the snow.
Snow falling and disappearing in the ocean,
Snow falling and slowly melting on my coat.
I haven’t spoken to anyone in several days.
The ocean, empty sand, birds, discarded shells
Are more than enough company.
I hold out my hand and snowflakes fall on my glove.
They stay long enough for me to fall in love
With each and every one before they disappear.
January – alone at the beach.

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