Poetry competition CLOSED 25th September 2016 10:02pm
WINNER
Trixareforkids
Trixareforkids
RUNNER-UP:
dejure
Alone On The Beach
Poetry Contest Description
Cloudy day, deserted beach....just the way I like it.
Summer is nearly over (at least in the Northern Hemisphere), the beaches are empty, the parking is free and the skies look stormy--a perfect day to head to the shore, in my opinion! So that's what I did today, took a ride to my favorite beach, Wingaersheek, in Gloucester MA, and now you get to write about it. I shot some photos to inspire you, and they're posted after this intro.
Write as many poems as you want, any style, length, no collabs, one week, whatever comes to mind through the photos. Write-on!
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0635_zpsn4ymwitg.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0641_zpsikavvhrr.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0643_zpsjadwyv51.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0647_zpsgjfbfc97.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0651_zpsmexpe7p8.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0655_zpsufb85ztt.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0662_zpsly87gaoi.jpg
Write as many poems as you want, any style, length, no collabs, one week, whatever comes to mind through the photos. Write-on!
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0635_zpsn4ymwitg.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0641_zpsikavvhrr.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0643_zpsjadwyv51.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0647_zpsgjfbfc97.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0651_zpsmexpe7p8.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0655_zpsufb85ztt.jpg
http://i425.photobucket.com/albums/pp333/LisaM0214/IMG_0662_zpsly87gaoi.jpg
Of hermit crabs and pearly shells
toes kicking sand, she walked
along the long and sandy beach
the waves incessantly reaching
her dodging dainty feet
seaweeds washed upon the beach
the little hermit crabs scuttled
having stolen homes from unsuspecting shells
dead hosts within their ivory homes
she picked up shells for her tapestry
of woven cloth and bamboo mat
to be mounted upon her walls
and decorate her little home
with her fistful of little pearly shells
she walked along the beach
towards her little home
savouring the ocean breeze
she glued her shells upon her mat
and mounted it upon the wall
a sedate beach walk
brought beauty to her home.
toes kicking sand, she walked
along the long and sandy beach
the waves incessantly reaching
her dodging dainty feet
seaweeds washed upon the beach
the little hermit crabs scuttled
having stolen homes from unsuspecting shells
dead hosts within their ivory homes
she picked up shells for her tapestry
of woven cloth and bamboo mat
to be mounted upon her walls
and decorate her little home
with her fistful of little pearly shells
she walked along the beach
towards her little home
savouring the ocean breeze
she glued her shells upon her mat
and mounted it upon the wall
a sedate beach walk
brought beauty to her home.
The steady rush of waves,
Breaking upon the shore.
With purity and grace,
It's pleasantly adored.
The sand tickles my toes,
With each and every step,
The beauty surely shows,
As it takes away my breath.
I place my feet in the water,
As I gaze out upon the ocean
Wishing I had a boat to charter,
Even though it's just a silly notion.
I used to play here when I was a kid,
My parents and I would stay all summer,
I often think back to the things we did,
My daddy named me his little beachcomber.
I smiled and stifled a chuckle from the thought,
Years later and I still come to this pretty beach,
The water's cool with sand so silky and soft,
A haven away from home kept within reach.
Breaking upon the shore.
With purity and grace,
It's pleasantly adored.
The sand tickles my toes,
With each and every step,
The beauty surely shows,
As it takes away my breath.
I place my feet in the water,
As I gaze out upon the ocean
Wishing I had a boat to charter,
Even though it's just a silly notion.
I used to play here when I was a kid,
My parents and I would stay all summer,
I often think back to the things we did,
My daddy named me his little beachcomber.
I smiled and stifled a chuckle from the thought,
Years later and I still come to this pretty beach,
The water's cool with sand so silky and soft,
A haven away from home kept within reach.
(Once again, I love your photography. The poem below is one I posted in January of 2014. I am a lighthouse lover and this piece reflects that passion.)
The Lighthouse Keeper
Outside a storm rages
hurricane winds
blow relentlessly
trying, in vain, to topple
the phallic sentinel
giant waves
lick the painted walls
coating its length
in salty foam
Inside the tower
the keeper,
with surprising agility
for his age,
clambers up
the tall spiral staircase
to inspect the light
which he finds
to be in working order
the Fresnel refracted beams,
like gleaming swords,
penetrate deep
into the blackness
Now descending,
from out in the squall
he hears the familiar
steady, muted hum
of the assaulting wind
and the plaintiff
moan of the foghorn
familiar, comforting music
like that of a long ago
memorized tune
remembering what awaits
him at the bottom of the stairs
he quickens his pace
There she stands,
his companion
for so many years,
his face glows
entranced by her
never-fading beauty
long lustres hair
cascades over her shoulders
deep blue, soul embracing eyes
appear as a tropical sea
full lips form a kind, inviting smile
flushed alabaster cheeks,
a hint of her excitement,
the partial globe
of her left breast
peaks from her slightly
parted robe
He enfolds her
in his strong, weathered arms
intoxicated by her scent
overwhelmed by her acceptance
they hungrily kiss
whispering
he professes his love
they part
as he puts a record
on his ancient phonograph
“may I have this dance”
he asks and she, once again,
collapses into his embrace
they waltz around the room
to Offenbach’s Barcarolle
He lays her down
near the hearth
the welcome heat
from the crackling fire
shields them from the
Winter’s chill
clutching one anothers
naked bodies
they become one
making sweet love
long into the night
The storm has passed
he awakes
to the sun shining
through the window
the only sound comes
from the needle riding the
final groove of the record
still turning on the player
she is gone
he quickly dresses
and rushes outdoors
his ritual search for her
he is greeted by
newly fallen snow
and the squawks of
seagulls flying overhead
smiling he gazes out to sea
humming last night’s Barcarolle
he imagines the happy day
when, with her, he will
sail away
The Lighthouse Keeper
Outside a storm rages
hurricane winds
blow relentlessly
trying, in vain, to topple
the phallic sentinel
giant waves
lick the painted walls
coating its length
in salty foam
Inside the tower
the keeper,
with surprising agility
for his age,
clambers up
the tall spiral staircase
to inspect the light
which he finds
to be in working order
the Fresnel refracted beams,
like gleaming swords,
penetrate deep
into the blackness
Now descending,
from out in the squall
he hears the familiar
steady, muted hum
of the assaulting wind
and the plaintiff
moan of the foghorn
familiar, comforting music
like that of a long ago
memorized tune
remembering what awaits
him at the bottom of the stairs
he quickens his pace
There she stands,
his companion
for so many years,
his face glows
entranced by her
never-fading beauty
long lustres hair
cascades over her shoulders
deep blue, soul embracing eyes
appear as a tropical sea
full lips form a kind, inviting smile
flushed alabaster cheeks,
a hint of her excitement,
the partial globe
of her left breast
peaks from her slightly
parted robe
He enfolds her
in his strong, weathered arms
intoxicated by her scent
overwhelmed by her acceptance
they hungrily kiss
whispering
he professes his love
they part
as he puts a record
on his ancient phonograph
“may I have this dance”
he asks and she, once again,
collapses into his embrace
they waltz around the room
to Offenbach’s Barcarolle
He lays her down
near the hearth
the welcome heat
from the crackling fire
shields them from the
Winter’s chill
clutching one anothers
naked bodies
they become one
making sweet love
long into the night
The storm has passed
he awakes
to the sun shining
through the window
the only sound comes
from the needle riding the
final groove of the record
still turning on the player
she is gone
he quickly dresses
and rushes outdoors
his ritual search for her
he is greeted by
newly fallen snow
and the squawks of
seagulls flying overhead
smiling he gazes out to sea
humming last night’s Barcarolle
he imagines the happy day
when, with her, he will
sail away
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Crawling Out
I hate the beach in summer
burning sand
burning skin
burning desire to be
thinner, tanner
cooler
in both senses of the word
yet in the forbidding months
the sea calls to me
with the echoes of ancestors
that crawled from the brine
determined
to try something new
slowly dragging themselves ashore
uncertain what they would find
or how they'd survive
standing
feet planted
toes curled 'round the remnants
of their less curious kin
feeling the pull of the sea
I am awed by their tenacity
inspired by their bravery
I drag myself home
curl fingers around a pen
still uncertain
but less afraid
I hate the beach in summer
burning sand
burning skin
burning desire to be
thinner, tanner
cooler
in both senses of the word
yet in the forbidding months
the sea calls to me
with the echoes of ancestors
that crawled from the brine
determined
to try something new
slowly dragging themselves ashore
uncertain what they would find
or how they'd survive
standing
feet planted
toes curled 'round the remnants
of their less curious kin
feeling the pull of the sea
I am awed by their tenacity
inspired by their bravery
I drag myself home
curl fingers around a pen
still uncertain
but less afraid
Beach
I love the sound of squelching sand beneath my feet and the wailing cry
Of a lonesome gull,
I watch my embroided footprints of crooked toes and worn out soles vanish under galloping waves,
That swoon and disappear only
To rise again
Upon the restless sea.
The radiant sun mocks me,
everything is vivid turquoise
Greens and yellows.
But it's wasting it's energy on this poor soul my world has turned monotone and grey.
she's gone,screaming I deserve more.
I could see it coming it was of no surprise by the hunger that burned in her eyes.
I leave the happy faces with their happy lives and their vanilla and chocolate cones.
I kick a forgotten sandcastle collapsing the turrets into a unholy mess.
I head home to throw bottles against walls
And to pray that it might rain tomorrow .
I love the sound of squelching sand beneath my feet and the wailing cry
Of a lonesome gull,
I watch my embroided footprints of crooked toes and worn out soles vanish under galloping waves,
That swoon and disappear only
To rise again
Upon the restless sea.
The radiant sun mocks me,
everything is vivid turquoise
Greens and yellows.
But it's wasting it's energy on this poor soul my world has turned monotone and grey.
she's gone,screaming I deserve more.
I could see it coming it was of no surprise by the hunger that burned in her eyes.
I leave the happy faces with their happy lives and their vanilla and chocolate cones.
I kick a forgotten sandcastle collapsing the turrets into a unholy mess.
I head home to throw bottles against walls
And to pray that it might rain tomorrow .
Dream come True
I am suddenly conscious. In a fight for my life, tides hurling my body up a beach. Taking clumps of cold wet sand in my hands, I claw my way up.
Finally safe enough to look around and see where I am headed, I am made breathless. A salt like white beach spreads in front of my eyes. White made white hot against the neon green of tropical trees and turquoise sky.
Paradise...I find strength to stand and walk. I shed wet clothes, the heat of the sand against the pads of my feet making me aware how cold the rest of my body is.
I am utterly alone. ..Paradise?
I lay down fully in the hot white sand. The sand under my back and ass feels cozy toasty, the brilliance of the sun blankets me. I can feel warmth envelope every of inch of me. My tits, my cheeks, my rounded tummy. Yes..paradise..I sigh.
I drift, aware of the temperature rising to an unbearable degree. The heat will bake me I realise. I am alone. Have no possessions or future in this place. This is lost. I close my eyes, decide to let the sun and the beach burn me to ashes.. in this paradise.
Written by calamitygin (Jennifer Michael McCurry)
I am suddenly conscious. In a fight for my life, tides hurling my body up a beach. Taking clumps of cold wet sand in my hands, I claw my way up.
Finally safe enough to look around and see where I am headed, I am made breathless. A salt like white beach spreads in front of my eyes. White made white hot against the neon green of tropical trees and turquoise sky.
Paradise...I find strength to stand and walk. I shed wet clothes, the heat of the sand against the pads of my feet making me aware how cold the rest of my body is.
I am utterly alone. ..Paradise?
I lay down fully in the hot white sand. The sand under my back and ass feels cozy toasty, the brilliance of the sun blankets me. I can feel warmth envelope every of inch of me. My tits, my cheeks, my rounded tummy. Yes..paradise..I sigh.
I drift, aware of the temperature rising to an unbearable degree. The heat will bake me I realise. I am alone. Have no possessions or future in this place. This is lost. I close my eyes, decide to let the sun and the beach burn me to ashes.. in this paradise.
Written by calamitygin (Jennifer Michael McCurry)
Breakers
No siren I, nor maid of Mer
no dolphin child of passing mind,
not even that of woman kind
no raising plaques with dated years
for time and I are ageless here
without an image as I am
whereof this body I bequeath
of scalloped shell and coral reef
from niche and shadow of my self
that gives you pause beyond the pale
forgetting that you should inhale
a shrine of breakers you exalt
that washes all things out of reach
to hold the moment on your breath
though you'll remember nothing more
when I return into the sea
and from a conch found on the shore
a seahorse laugh comes from its throat
while listing clouds pass over thee.
No siren I, nor maid of Mer
no dolphin child of passing mind,
not even that of woman kind
no raising plaques with dated years
for time and I are ageless here
without an image as I am
whereof this body I bequeath
of scalloped shell and coral reef
from niche and shadow of my self
that gives you pause beyond the pale
forgetting that you should inhale
a shrine of breakers you exalt
that washes all things out of reach
to hold the moment on your breath
though you'll remember nothing more
when I return into the sea
and from a conch found on the shore
a seahorse laugh comes from its throat
while listing clouds pass over thee.
No words
The coming dawn,
a heavy drowse
of fog and beach's loss
of memories from yesterday
where summer's laid
its final pall
o'er castles washed aground.
And as each footprint
leaves its mark
and just as quickly fills,
avert my eyes
in time to see
undulating shoreline dunes,
the chevron wings of gulls.
I contemplate
in shrouded light
while I alone eclipse
where sand crabs scuttle
in the wake
of early morning mist.
And how my mind
is set adrift
like waves that crest ashore
without the anchor
of their roots
when low tide pulls them in.
Is my living still for reasons
that meant so much before?,
for answers I find
have no words
but feel as light as sea air,
like nourishment to me.
What seems like hours
are but moments
when the call of gulls
returns my thoughts to me,
how quickly they pass overhead
and scatter out to sea.
The coming dawn,
a heavy drowse
of fog and beach's loss
of memories from yesterday
where summer's laid
its final pall
o'er castles washed aground.
And as each footprint
leaves its mark
and just as quickly fills,
avert my eyes
in time to see
undulating shoreline dunes,
the chevron wings of gulls.
I contemplate
in shrouded light
while I alone eclipse
where sand crabs scuttle
in the wake
of early morning mist.
And how my mind
is set adrift
like waves that crest ashore
without the anchor
of their roots
when low tide pulls them in.
Is my living still for reasons
that meant so much before?,
for answers I find
have no words
but feel as light as sea air,
like nourishment to me.
What seems like hours
are but moments
when the call of gulls
returns my thoughts to me,
how quickly they pass overhead
and scatter out to sea.
Amongst sand and rocks, I was alone
The wind blew the sand along,
It was warm despite clouds in the sky
Above me I heard the gulls cry.
The sea was warm, and inviting
A swim seemed to be exciting
Very soon I was stripping
Ready for some skinny dipping
Water flowing round nude skin
The sensation makes you want to grin
Oh why is nude swimming not allowed
On beaches that attract a crowd.
The wind blew the sand along,
It was warm despite clouds in the sky
Above me I heard the gulls cry.
The sea was warm, and inviting
A swim seemed to be exciting
Very soon I was stripping
Ready for some skinny dipping
Water flowing round nude skin
The sensation makes you want to grin
Oh why is nude swimming not allowed
On beaches that attract a crowd.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
