POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


July 3rdToday the beach is full of activity. You are surrounded closely by many other sun worshipers. The mission today is to write in the form of an Abstract or Sound poem about this day at the beach.

An Abstract or Sound poem plays with analogy, sound, and/or cadence to create meaning, rather than actually relying on the strict meanings of words themselves. Often the sounds of the words themselves lend credence to the form.


July 2 – A Deserted Beach

July 1 – ALOHA! (HELLO)

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    the sea birds celebrate
    waiting their tern to swoop and soar.
    Amidst the ROAR of the water’s CRASH,
    LOUDLY ROLLING, extolling a bright
    Summer’s day. Symphonic and euphonious,
    raucous and cacophonous. Children at play
    SCREAM and YELL above the swell.
    dead fish in the sand. They stand
    near the overturned row boat.
    Lifeguard SHOUTING instruction;
    a sand castle’s DESTRUCTION;
    of a older boy BEATING his chest
    doing his best to antagonize
    a younger brother in tears.
    Steam ship WHISTLES in the distance
    a DRONE in insistence. MUFFLED
    waves in a FRENZY; the RUSTLING of umbrellas
    FLAPPING while you’re napping.
    You yearn for these times that remind you
    that it’s more than the sights that entice,
    the sounds are as appreciated,
    a summer’s day elongated, loudly
    anticipated, this day at the beach!

  2. InnerDialect on said:

    Colours of the sun, you and me – ripples, tossed like footprints run, our
    lives are abstracts shimmering, nets, people, a lighthouse, a bay, at peace – oh the insanity of this peace

  3. InnerDialect on said:

    Reblogged this on LYRIX & LIFE.

  4. Pingback: Ebb and Flow | echoes from the silence

  5. Loud Colors in White Noise

    Like the hiss and sigh of white noise,
    the waves thump, rush, and dissolve
    against the shore, endlessly
    monotonously similar, unbroken
    and constant, a crazy inner ear
    hazy sound like a plane miles
    above the sea, buzzing like a gnat,
    leaving a trail exhaling into the sky.

    Beach sound is composed
    of shades of blue–sky, sea,
    afternoon shadows,
    of white, cream, grey,
    and blinding sunlight,
    of the bright prime colors
    of umbrellas and beach chairs,
    sand buckets and shovels, kites,
    coolers and towels, hats, floats,
    swimsuits, each tint shouting
    across the crash and hiss, See Me!

    Play resounds across the waves,
    into the shallows where crabs scuttle,
    along the foamy edges of waves
    where gulls and sea birds scavenge,
    along the horizon where pelicans glide
    in a perfect graceful V, dragging
    a brazen sunset along behind them
    like a purple, rose, and orange curtain,
    all the universe shrieking in loud
    cacophonous deafening hues.

  6. The Sounds of a Sandy Summer

    Splish splash
    The waves slap sandy beach
    Splish splash
    The sound of running feet
    As wet sand buckets fall
    Splish splash
    The kids build castles tall

    “Look Mommy!”
    The castle tall with sand
    “Look Mommy!”
    Shaped funny with little hands
    “Look Mommy!”
    Dad buried up to his face
    “Look Mommy!”
    The kids just love this place

    “Turn over!”
    Let me lotion your back
    “Turn over!”
    The lotion’s not in the pack
    “Turn over!”
    I guess we’ll never learn
    “Turn over!”
    He’s sleeping, let him burn

    “What’s that?”
    It’s moving in the sand
    “What’s that?”
    Don’t touch it with your hand
    “What’s that?”
    Looks like a little head
    “What’s that?”
    Is it alive or dead

    Splish splash
    The beach is so much fun
    “Look Mommy!”
    We got our castle done
    “Turn over!”
    You’ve gotten too much sun
    “What’s that?”
    Pack up, it’s time to run

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  7. ejparsons on said:

    A Fun One

    Sand and sun
    Surf and fun
    Walk don’t run
    Watch the nuns
    Nuns have fun
    In the sun
    They don’t run
    They eat buns
    Son of a gun
    Now we’re done

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  8. Marjory MT on said:

    [RONDELET form – AbAabbA 4848884]

    With one ember
    is ignited a burning fire.
    With one ember,
    flames spark long to be remembered,
    dreams of which one cannot tire,
    dreams to which one can’t aspire,
    with one ember.

  9. Henrietta Choplin on said:


    Bright, red umbrella
    Unfolding there
    Throwing a shadow
    into the air

    Who sits behind it?
    I stop and stare
    But he eludes me
    without a care.

  10. I hope I’ve got the meter right this time! 🙂

    Beach Noise (Shakesperean Soonet)

    The brightly colored towels spread are noise
    Enough all on their own, without the help,
    The added squeals, of little children, boys
    And girls, their laughter and their joyful yelps;

    The rainbow hues of chairs and tents are loud
    Themselves, though helped along with merry cries
    And barking dogs and whistles from the crowd
    That throngs the golden beach beneath blue skies;

    The crash of waves upon the shore adds beat,
    A rhythmic background for the noise and fun,
    And stamp, stamp, stamp go little toes and feet
    Upon the sand, still burning in the sun;

    But I’ll return again at dawn to see
    The beach at peace once more: serenity.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  11. William Preston on said:


    As winds are whispering their wishes
    among the grasses near the shore,
    in swirling swaths of random swishes,
    as winds are whispering their wishes,
    the sanderlings will school, like fishes,
    in time to tunes they can’t ignore
    as winds are whispering their wishes
    among the grasses, near the shore.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  12. DebiSwim on said:

    This is a complete experiment for me -could be a total fail, IDK, but nothing ventured…

    Sun Stroked Thoughts

    The sand under my feet scrrrr
    itches in places I can’t reach
    the fish shaped kite flllllll
    uttering in the sky over
    the waves SWWWoooSHing
    to shore sure as night follows
    daydreams carry me across the sea
    sons, winter, fall, summer, spring
    forth. My sleepy thoughts drift
    wood on the beach bleached white
    by a hot Tropic of Cancer
    causing sun.

  13. DebiSwim on said:

    lines 6 and 7 should be:
    to shore sure as night follows day
    dreams carry me across the sea

  14. Pingback: Day at the Beach | Metaphors and Smiles

  15. Day at the Beach
    As kernels they started,
    the bourgeoning of the beach again…
    started deep within these grains of sand,
    planted by memories,
    toes and elbows immersed
    in the deliciousness of this place,
    backs and bellies soaking up the heat,
    eyes meet and memorize the gaze of blues;
    these are seeds that are held the year long,
    watered by salted sea,
    warmed by the new summer sun
    and they’ve begun blooming.
    In pairs of fluorescence,
    pink, orange and green,
    a solitary tiger-striped beauty
    saunters on the shore,
    fits of floral arrive by the dozens,
    a silken-black-speedo rose
    rises up among them,
    striped, plaid and polka-dotted daisies
    speckle the pebble infested strip.
    Yes, their reminisces have brought them back richly,
    hordes of bodies burst forth from the earth.
    Striding, lying and swimming,
    jumping, gawking and talking,
    lolling, bronzing and sporting-
    vivid beings create a garden of peoples.
    Colorful in their laughter,
    authentic in their love,
    ready in their receiving,
    sun and beauty beholding-
    they’re bold in their belonging
    and comfort’s found,
    relief from the regular-regular
    it’s an estuary-orchard of living beings,
    it’s a day at the beach.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  16. connielpeters on said:

    Sharks chomp wounded
    Rays sting innocents
    Funded folks behead us?

  17. Eyes Closed at the Beach.

    Crash, pound, crash
    running, giiggles, splash
    Hot sand ouch ouch, ouch
    Warm lazy sun

  18. Beach Rhythms (An Abstract Poem)

    Anyone gathers at a bang, bang beach
    lapping, lapping, lapping
    cold grease slides
    in and out, in and out
    coconut clouds dance through noses
    spitting brine through smiles
    serving of leather
    lapping, lapping, lapping
    ooo eee, ooo ah ah dancing feet
    in and out, in and out
    talking dogs
    spitting brine through smiles
    rhythms…bang, bang beach.

  19. Life is a Beach and Deadly Quiet

    Namibia Dunes now cast a silent sigh;
    Egyptian symbols lie upon this beach,
    and looking back, I see the King’s own eye;
    part man; part beast but what has he to teach?

    Sahara heat beyond the Burger King
    with Pyramids tri-angled to the sun.
    Mysterious is life; a spacious thing
    and love’s a whispered dream before begun.

    My footprints leave no sound upon this sand
    yet, I’ll be known by others in this space.
    And grateful, water has a healing hand
    along the Nile to soothe as any place.

    But gone is past or future in its glow;
    A mutter in the moonlight’s all we know.

    (They say Tourists can now take pics of the Sphinx and Burger King in one shot! How yucky is that? I think my poem succumbed to quiet sadness for that reason.)
    “Na Mib ya” is pronunciation for the Dunes, first line)

  20. William Preston on said:


    as waves are drifting and lifting sand
    to form a shifting, yet gifting land.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  21. Well, mine isn’t really abstract, but …


    So close,
    Our towels touch.
    So warm,
    Our heat mingles.
    So smitten,
    I fear he hears
    The pounding of my heart.

  22. DebiSwim on said:

    That made me feel about 16 – wonderful!

  23. Pingback: Singing the Blues | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  24. Singing the Blues

    It’s the whisper as waves
    hum their indigo praise
    and cobalt their way
    to shore.

    It’s the shhhh of the breeze
    and the tangle of trees
    as a sapphire sky beckons
    for more.

    It’s the whir of my heart
    and the whoosh between scars
    of waters that hold it
    in tune.

    It’s the searching of sea
    and the finding of me
    as a crooning cloud wrangles
    the moon.


  25. DebiSwim on said:

    Beautiful sounds and images. I love your poetry.

  26. Wind Swept Tunes

    By David De Jong

    We scampered over the drifting dunes
    Oblivious to the wind swept tunes
    Kites whipping the sky, blueberry cream
    Sizzle and frizzle, a sunburn scream
    Feathered gulls, weathered lulls, tons of sun
    Towels and trowels, buckets of fun
    Volley ball, beach ball, all asked to dance
    Crazy, lazy, taste all the romance
    Chasing, embracing, placing a kiss
    Walking and talking, gawking at bliss
    Fixtures, pictures, salty windshield smear
    Rewound, replayed, in a shell to my ear

  27. Sand Sharks

    Toddler totters down to ocean,
    flinging sand with his feet.
    “No swimming, you just ate.”
    Boom-boom-ba, boom-boom-ba (bold)
    “Turn down that radio.” Squirt,
    plop. “Oh, you used too much
    lotion. Ding, ding, ding! (bold)
    “Ice cream here, get your ice
    cold ice cream. Splash, giggles,
    feet running away. Woman in
    two-piece bathing suit, skin
    hot and dry. “You little brats,”
    she yells, water dripping
    down her back.

    Bold doesn’t copy. Sorry.

  28. InnerDialect on said:

    Did I know anything, anything at all, of meter,
    of rhythm, of birds at fall, of the spring in these feet, and
    yours as we rhyme to the streets in this LIfe, a Beach
    yours and mine, every one of each a random kind of song, and I
    am no poet, nor student of metronome, except the throat
    of the sea gull, the slap of that wave, at the bottom
    of my soul, oh my soul gambols at this beach where poets and
    words swim against an equal tide of the earth, oh an earth an earth
    blooming like blossoms, like this like this…

  29. Pingback: Sounds at the Beach | Gene's Musings


    Most think
    the messages
    come from deep
    within the conch
    and will hold
    the lovely shell
    tight against
    their ear,
    swear they
    hear the sea
    swear they
    hear the roar
    of waves and surf
    in there.

    But to really
    hear the earth
    and all sorts
    of other messages
    you must lie
    upon the sand
    In the dark
    or in the light
    matters not,
    just as long
    as you are there

    Now, lay down
    on the beach
    slow your
    close your eyes
    listen for
    your heartbeat
    Listen to the sea
    Match the one
    to the other…

    Soon you will
    hear whispering
    from a place
    you’ve never
    heard before
    and there
    will be
    secrets unfolding
    that make
    you wonder
    why you never
    thought to stop
    and listen
    like this
    just like this
    ’til now…

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  32. Pingback: Two Poems for the Beach | The Chalk Hills Journal

  33. A Long and Salty Beach

    Whistle wind
    through rugged rocks
    scour sand
    smooth as glass
    and kiss this salty beach.

  34. Yes, I am WAY behind–however, I’m catching up…


    Blue, blue, blue
    beat, beat, beat
    scurry, scurry, scurry
    Of tiny, tiny feet

    Moving in and out and out and in
    And in and out again
    Like a winged accordion
    Playing tidal rhythm
    Beat, beat, beat
    With their tiny, tiny feet

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