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Broadsky Feb 2022
dust has collected in this once filled room of my mine

it's floated and settled on the last few things left behind

spellbind

windchime

now i can say this empty space is all mine


8 years of pacing this room

8 years of shouting at the moon

8 years of sleeping til noon

just to ignore the fact I meant nothing to you


so much anger has made home in my bones

the way you used to speak about me felt like being casted with stones

I used to try and drown out your tasteless, colorless tone

you type "she's dramatic" in a text on your phone


I expected this feeling of indifference to feel free with no stop lights

yet this empty space

and this empty mind

coincide

with what I've known this whole time


that all too familiar feeling of restlessness has come to an end

and even though there are still memories burned into my head

I don't believe I have anything else left unsaid


I envied your callousness

I despised your self-righteousness

and i ached at your lack of consequence

what caught your eye was never my elegance

but rather my callowness


as the ice in your drink swirls and melts

and you're blaming me besides everyone else

as your anger starts to swell

just remember it was me who wasn't treated well


we can keep our heads down while our eyes meet on the street

while you pretend I don't resemble meadowsweet

and that we never danced in my kitchen with me on your feet

but

to be honest

in the end

we were always offbeat

when you chose to secede

I found you to not be an aesthete

if you could agree

to be without me


this story is begging to no longer be told

so maybe I'll revisit this time of my life when I've seen how my life will unfold

til then my king is fallen on this chess board

my feelings are buried far past the sea's shore

and I've finally

stopped keeping score
Clive Blake May 2021
The Cornish shore …
Where golden sand lies next
To dappled grey granite rock,
Where the sea breeze sweeps
And the mussels flock,
Where the rock pools gather
And the small ***** patrol,
Where the white foam curls
And the breakers roll,
Where the sea birds call
And the salt spray stings,
Where the seaweed sunbathes
And the limpet clings,
Where a stream’s course meanders,
And reflects the azure sky,
Where a starfish gazes skywards
And white clouds go scudding by.

By all means take treasured memories,
But please take nothing more,
And leave nothing but your footprints
On this sacred Cornish shore …
Cornwall is my homeland and l lies on the South Western most tip of the UK and is largely surrounded by the sea and its beautiful coastline.  Anything which comes from Cornwall, including its people, is/are described as Cornish. Cornish.  Cornwall is 'Kernow' in the Cornish language.
Ultraviolent Dec 2020
The waves kissed the shore again & again & again
The waves kissed the shore again & again & again
The waves kissed the shore every second or so
to remind her how much she is loved
just like a mother to her soft, sweet warm hearted baby
kissing you head to toe like the waves.

-Ultraviolent.
Tom Atkins Aug 2020
Sand. Seagrass. Wind.
You are fed.
Solitude for breakfast.
I am constantly taking pictures. It is rare you see me without my camera. I use many of them in my poetry blog. This poem for instance, has a wide expanse of dunes and seagrass from Cape Cod at it's header.

People constantly ask me “Why do you take so many pictures?”

Because they help me remember.  

Tom
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2020
Upon this shore my unsure feet stand
Slowly sinking into soft sand
Seashells shine as they catch sunlight
And drifted wood is washed all but white

Seagulls swoop from skies and soar
Birds and prey at a natural war
The sunrise glow fades
Air grows hot
In warm display beach is caught

Illuminates the sea below
From surface to undertow
A gentle ocean breeze waltzes by
As if the water breathes with a sigh

Enhancing sunbeams that darken my skin
Tranquility I am soaking in
This morning view so peaceful and bright
Where all is well within my sight

How many summer days remaining to waste?
When snow arrives I'll miss the taste
Of saltwater bitter on my tongue
The cool sensation filling my lungs

Upon this shore I memorize
The horizon distant from my eyes
The light outside fights the darkness within
And my cares float out as the tide rolls in
And I'm just trying to surf the waves
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
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
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