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


July 8thWe all have entanglements in life that we either rise above or we allow to drag us down with the undertow. Much like seaweed or kelp. We’d prefer you rise above the fray, so today write your poem, not dwelling on the ”seaweed” as much as your triumph over your peeve!



July 7 – Sandcastles

July 6 – Lifeguard

July 5 – In The Swim

July 4 – Fireworks on the Lake

July 3 – A Day at the Beach (Abstract Poem)

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95 thoughts on “LIFE IS A BEACH – SEAWEED/KELP


    Matted and twisted,
    sun kissed and blanched,
    vegetation under the surface.
    Entangled in toes
    and filling the nose with
    the aroma of a soggy bog.
    Clusters along the shore,
    seaweed on the sandy floor.

  2. Pingback: Like Today | The Chalk Hills Journal


    There are days when I stop and give thanks.

    Not for hindsight. It colours, tints faint and misleads
    just as the victor rushes to rewrite history, succeeding
    in re-inking facts so that etched cries are lost and never
    remedied. Such was my way, my pale path. Back then.

    Had you not left, I’d still sleep besieged at your side,
    emptied of slim hope, fancying better times ahead.
    I can see now, over my shoulder into reams of hindsight
    that your leaving restored my soul and returned my life –

    because you were the razor that caused me to bleed,
    the straw in my tweed, blinded to writing I’d never read,
    and I was trapped under your fanciful ways, indeed
    mislead by your seed. You were my tangle of seaweed.

    So, yes, there are days when I stop and give thanks.
    Like today.

  4. DebiSwim on said:

    The Long and Short of It

    I hate being short
    I’ve been a good sport
    but I grew tired of ‘shrimp’
    from egotistical wimps
    and how’s the weather down there
    was more than I could bear.

    I’m not asking for much
    three inches – is that such
    a stinking big deal?
    It would make me feel
    I could face life with zeal.
    Five foot two
    would more than do.

    Now, maybe you think
    what’s brought me to the brink
    is merely stature conceit –
    three inches is still petite.
    but here’s the rub, my sweet,
    It’s not living in clover
    to be constantly looked over.

    But what can one do?
    Just overlook them, too!

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Your poem was bittersweet… (try being called a “neat little package”…)

      • DebiSwim on said:

        Ha, No thank you, Henrietta. I’ve been patted on the head and patronized enough and sounds like you have, too.

    • William Preston on said:

      I love the humor, sort of a physical pun, in the third stanza. The tall, thin format also accentuates your message, or so it seems to me. I don’t know if you intended that, but that’s how it stuck me. I loved this piece.

      • DebiSwim on said:

        Thanks, William. No, I hadn’t thought about the format but I do see it somewhat now that you mention it. I’m glad you liked .

    • This is a nice wake up call…I find that I don’t often think about what others deal with, as physical set backs, until it’s right in my face. I was recently doing a X-fit class and the woman doing drills in line next to me was a little person…there were a lot of things that she had to manage differently…

      Great poem, Debi…sorry for the rant. 😉

      • DebiSwim on said:

        I appreciate the rant. I have learned ask tall people to get things off upper grocery shelves and keep a stool in the kitchen. You won’t believe but in a home recently in the guest bath the sink is so high I have to tiptoe to spit when I brush my teeth!

    • Yes a bittersweet poem Debi. As a person of only 5’3″ I have felt your pain but more often I embrace it. I keep a stool handy, too. I’ve met many tall women uncomfortable in their own skin – disliking their large feet and slouching to seem smaller. So the air is not necessarily better up there. 😉

  5. Sea Otter Lessons for Lovers

    Anchor yourselves
    Hold hands
    (retract your claws)
    Don’t drift
    a p a r t
    Honor utmost cleanliness
    Treat each other as
    endangered species

    (I absolutely adore that otters anchor themselves by wrapping in seaweed and hold hands to keep from drifting away from each other while they nap. Too stinkin’ cute!)

  6. Henrietta Choplin on said:


    must learn
    quickly to
    keep swimming side-

  7. William Preston on said:


    I heard tell of a brat, just a whelp,
    who was forced to emit a loud yelp
    when he showed off and found
    he was bound in the sound:
    he was stuck, needing help with the kelp.

    copyright 2013

  8. William Preston on said:


    I am so old, you wouldn’t believe it
    but I was once a little girl.
    My hair’s so thin, you can’t conceive it,
    but I once had a little curl

    that made a ringlet on my forehead
    just like a sprig of summer sun;
    I could be bad, but never horrid,
    and knew that life was always fun.

    I grew up poor, or so they say,
    but I felt safe when I was small.;
    we all had food for every day
    although I worked from fall to fall.

    Like you, I grew; I went to school
    and learned to think, and by and by
    I learned that life is sometimes cruel:
    I saw my baby sister die.

    I had my man, we had four kids;
    we all lived on a dairy farm;
    the Depression came; we hit the skids,
    but I would never permit harm

    to touch my children or my man.
    I worked the fields, and I contrived
    to make our truck into a van
    for eggs and pies. And we survived.

    My kids got married; my man died;
    My kids had kids, and oh, such joy
    they brought when they stood by my side.
    But I outlived my baby boy.

    And now there’s you, my darling girl.
    I love to sit and watch you run
    while sunlight plays with your little curl.
    Again, it seems, it’s all begun:
    round and round, life still is fun.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  9. Pingback: Seeing Clearly | Metaphors and Smiles

  10. DebiSwim on said:

    Oh, what a grand lady and grand poem! Really, really like this.

  11. Seeing Clearly
    Appendages of the deep,
    green reaching creepily upward…
    Are they arms hoping to pull one down?
    Are they lifeless limbs inhibiting the swim?
    Peer closely.
    Look into kiwi shallows…
    the light there that’s catching,
    tiny details are illuminated;
    seemingly threatening
    becomes transcendental
    in this shift of perspective,
    peace is ours in knowing…
    Past has potential to stay in place
    it can actually be our ally.
    Yes, it has the capacity to serve us,
    the ability to be our living buoy.
    Indeed, blooming plumage,
    the seaward underworld
    is wonder, transformed.
    Long twisting fronds,
    former faults
    become a sage,
    a fluid net that keeps us
    fully alive and wholly present.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  12. Life is a Beach- Seaweed

    Another hurricane with blistered song
    means stepping gingerly about this bay
    as aftermath leaves littered, cluttered throngs
    of seaweed, bloated jelly fish that stray.

    This seaweed once adorned some merman’s tie
    now lies, a tangled mass upon this key.
    The jelly fish, now so forlorn and shy;
    estranged, she cries so far from mother sea.

    Now children pop the ugly veined balloons
    attendants rake the darkened, blackened chains
    and strollers on the beach sing happy tunes
    as nothing of the storm will here remain.

    The clearing sky and tide has changed it name;
    though loss and tears are washed away by same.

  13. Seaweed

    S oggy, slimy sea salad
    E ntangling fingers
    A nd tickling toes of swimmers
    W iggly, wobbly weeds
    E ven these bottom dwellers
    E nd up on rich tables and stars’ faces and
    D ivinely supply most of earth’s oxygen

  14. ejparsons on said:


    Coke bottle glasses and an amblyopic eye
    Targets that attracted the bully’s ire
    Years of teasing, being called cross-eyed
    The cruelty of others often made me cry

    And then one day in the mirror I stared
    My left eye did wander here and there
    My eyes were crossed, to myself I declared
    Let the bullies taunt; I was no longer scared

    A brand new school year and the taunts reignite
    But this time I’m really geared up for the fight
    Bully after bully retreated with fright
    You see, over summer I grew eight inches in height

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  15. ejparsons on said:

    Every Day Struggles

    O ur very being is tested daily
    V icious forces oppose our success
    E very minute we must be on guard
    R elentless in our cradle-to-grave quest
    C are and caution must be foremost
    O ften we blink and miss an attack
    M uch can be lost in one split second
    E ach loss could push us one step back

    W e must face it all with eyes wide open
    I mportant we pray for help each day
    T he enemy is strong and out to defeat us
    H is protective hand will guard our way

    C an we make it through life unscathed
    H arm and hassle are part of our lives
    R eality is a hard thing to comprehend
    I n a perfect world there would be no strife
    S till, we’re weak and incomplete humans
    T ake His hand; He’ll walk you through life

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  16. Coming Up For Air

    struggling, finally cutting free
    of the seaweed holding me down;
    Feeling as if I’ve broken through the surface
    and tasted a fresh gulp of air,
    buoyed by the knowledge
    my path, for now, is clear.

  17. Bondage

    It lazily reaches up from the depths
    wrapping itself around my ankles
    trying to drag me down into desolation.
    The tendrils of memory and regret,
    anger and shame, loss and hopelessness,
    tie me to the past and steal my happiness.
    I must swim harder, kick away these bonds.
    For to surrender to them would be
    The end of any possible future.

  18. Life’s Beach

    Life’s Beach lies pristine
    Sun shining bright down
    Clear waters lap gently
    On shores of white sand
    Cool breezes waft softly
    All’s well on Life’s Beach

    Then darkness falls fast
    Clouds block rays of light
    Winds wipe breezes bare
    Surf builds with caps white
    Murky waters replace clear
    Life’s Beach in for storm

    Hard tilted rain falls
    Flashes follow thunder crash
    Waves pound pristine shores
    Bruise white sands with trash
    Perfection lay waste
    Life’s Beach under attack

    Sun breaks through the clouds
    Beats back wind and rain
    Surf calms then retreats
    Clean up to begin
    No storm will prevail
    All’s well on Life’s Beach

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  19. William Preston on said:

    For now…..

  20. janeshlensky on said:

    Seaweed Salad

    The summer we made rosehip jam,
    we sought a culinary fling,
    as our adventures with cuisine
    led us to eat most everything
    alive, to render it a meal,
    our main ingredient, our zeal.

    The rosehips needed sugaring;
    the dandelions, vinaigrette;
    the nettle soup, some beef bouillon;
    most flowers needed wine, and yet
    our most daring experiment
    was seaweed salad, served with mint.

    At first, we reasoned kelp is seaweed;
    our research proved seaweed good,
    for look, the fish enjoyed a nibble
    munching on this seafood kibble.
    Human consumption of sea kelp
    could keep it off the beach—or help.

    We gathered, washed, made marinade.
    We soaked in lemon, lime, and oil.
    We added ginger, cucumber,
    but our salad made us recoil
    and wonder how the Japanese
    had made a salad sure to please.

    We sought a restaurant to tell us
    how to make seaweed fit to eat
    for nothing thus far could compel us
    to swallow full servings of our sea treat.
    The chef admired our being zealous
    and said they had seaweed to sell us.

    • William Preston on said:

      This is a true delight, and your final lines recall some of the entries from Williard Espy’s Words to Rhyme With.

  21. janeshlensky on said:

    Water as Wide as the Sky

    There are things that live in seaweed,
    things with teeth and spines and thorns,
    things that hide and sting to impede
    unknown danger’s swinging horns.

    I have felt the bite and slither
    of the weed around my feet,
    suffered quills as I stepped hither
    into worlds beneath the deep.

    I suppose I should be fearful
    of most things I cannot see,
    but their kingdoms make me cheerful,
    give me room to grow and be

    so much more than I had hoped for
    among friends that swim and fly,
    for life’s sea holds much to savor
    under waves wide as the sky.

  22. William Preston on said:

    Wonderful; to me, this feels like a folk song.

  23. Loosening Threads

    Child threads of tenuous strength
    sufficed, keeping me in close
    family contact, though tightening
    to reel me in when behavior warranted.

    Teen threads of iron invisibility
    bound me to myself, a prison
    I designed for which I had no key.

    Young adult threads, rubbery
    as kelp, kept me bouncing
    between a normal life
    and chaos, whose ashes
    I hoped would heal.

    Senior threads of silver filigree
    curl, create, allow me to express
    myself in free manner. I am hoping
    for gossamer threads of gold.

    • William Preston on said:

      I get the feeling that the hoped-for gossamer threads are cycling back to the tenuous threads of childhood. The “ties (or threads) that bind” get looser and friendlier, as it were, but never vanish. Or so it seems to me, from your writing. In any case, the imagery is strong and compelling.

  24. Pingback: Kelp Kept | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  25. Kelp Kept

    wrapped tight,
    these tendrils
    reach for my ankles,
    entangle my forward flow.

    Their beauty swims
    and sways. Mesmerized,
    I gaze
    eyes glazed
    heart rain
    -bowed and bent,
    unswum and spent.
    Look out below.


  26. Red Tide, Algae Bloom

    On dry land, I have kudzu dreams,
    vines growing up into the trees,
    slipping into windows between
    chinks in the walls as I sleep,
    but now by the sea, nightmares
    shift, bringing in the red tide,
    surrounding me with algae bloom,
    entering these waters on the hulls
    of ships from far away, exploding
    into life. Even our drinking water
    bears the taste, something foreign
    lacking the draw of novelty.

    Rare now are those peaceful dreams
    of clear, ice-cold springs, diving
    into pools so deep, we knew
    the monsters that might lurk
    in their depths couldn’t reach us.
    Only upon waking do I recall
    the taste, flavored by watercress,
    purified by rushing over rocks.

  27. Pingback: Seaweed Haiku | echoes from the silence

  28. Marjory MT on said:

    Sometimes there are chords
    that bind us so tight
    we cannot surface or breath
    until love sets us free.

  29. Bay-bies

    Wrapped in leaf
    Otter pups
    Float and sway
    In the kelp forests
    Of Monterey Bay

  30. Pingback: Amid The Churning | echoes from the silence

  31. Pingback: Beach Reading: Lost At Sea | echoes from the silence

  32. Pingback: Docked | echoes from the silence

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