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


July 14thToday is Sunday, and there’s nothing better on a Sunday than a picnic at the beach. Share your picnic in verse. What’s in your basket?



July 13 – Lighthouse

July 12 – Starry, Starry Night

July 11 – Lakes, Oceans, Waterways

July 10 – Seagulls (Triolet)

July 9 – Boats

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205 thoughts on “LIFE IS A BEACH – PICNIC


    Blanket spread, your head resting on my shoulder.
    a pebble below (feels more like a boulder) causing a stir.
    Sandwiches and snacks in tow under the umbrella,
    a fella won’t go hungry on this Sunday. A picnic
    on the beach we reach a bond; a unity found
    on the crowded ground around the shore.
    There’s more to fill you in the cooler, but the rule
    is witty. Too much wind makes the sandwich gritty.

  2. Marjory MT on said:

    I have waited a long time for you to give a PICNIC prompt.
    so that I could post this. Thank You 🙂

    June 12, 2012 (8 beats per line –non rhyme)
    A SESTINA by Marjory M Thompson

    (from a fellow’s point of view)

    The picnic place and table’s set.
    Put out the food, chase off that fly
    while tots dance round us in a ring
    looking forward to a game of ball.
    Cooler, rugs, chairs from truck we bear
    while from each dish, we snitch a bite.

    Let’s get the serving plates all bare,
    must eat the Jell-O while still set
    I just can’t down another bite.
    Listening for the game bell to ring,
    see overhead a red kit fly,
    we’re itching to start playing ball.

    Bunching together in a ring.
    One teamT-shirts, other goes bare.
    Waiting to get the teams all set,
    volleying comments have a bite,
    let’s get started, who’s got the ball?
    Time for the call – make the coin fly.

    Jostling to claim a wayward fly
    as players race around the ring
    striving to get decisive ball.
    Finally scoring in the last set,
    darn bugs continuing to bite.
    losing the game, we cannot bear.

    Lost my interest in playing ball,
    but, to teasing friends I won’t bite
    (My date’s outfit is much too bare)
    The waiting hours refuse to fly.
    I plan to dance with her each set
    in shadows just beyond light’s ring.

    Did not feel cupid’s arrow bite
    as music whirled us through the ball,
    across the sky shooting stars fly,
    soft moonlight makes the mind go bear.
    Keep my freedom – or give a ring?
    Slow-ly we dance the one last set.

    Ball is over, can’t bear to wait,
    Time seems to fly, best now to bite,
    Gave her a ring and set a date.

  3. janeshlensky on said:

    Pick Nick

    Is there a human edible
    that is not pleasing to a gull?
    Our picnic packing’s masterful,
    too complicated for a gull,
    but should we swim before we’re full
    or fly a kite above the shoal,
    we must repack—this is no bull—
    the picnic lost to squawking gulls.
    Who will stand sentry during lulls
    to shoo away marauding gulls
    who come to pick and nick and pull
    apart our picnic lunchables?
    Let us take turns and not annul
    our picnic just because of gulls.
    We will be generous, not cull
    bread bits to toss up to the gulls.

  4. Picnic For Two

    We spread a gingham blanket on the sand,
    Our basket full of picnic fare was placed
    Between our sandaled feet; our outstretched hands
    Found fruit or sandwiches – to each their taste;

    Some seagulls joined us halfway through, and there
    Was nothing we could do to drive away
    The greedy things – our course was just to share
    With them and hope that they’d fly off someday;

    Before we realized it was time, the sun
    Had set beneath the waves, a tinge of pink
    Still touched the sky and stained the sea, and one
    Small seabird’s silhouette showed black as ink;

    But we stayed sitting on the darkened sand,
    Our knees drawn to our chins, and hand in hand…

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  5. William Preston on said:


    The gulls that settle on the beach
    will scoop all food that’s out of reach.
    I feel so sad, I could just screech.

    But when I munch upon a peach,
    my sadness flees into the breech.
    I’m never hungry on the beach

    because of the sand which is there.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  6. William Preston on said:


    On a picnic morning at the shore,
    we bustled quickly out the door;
    we spent the day with one another,
    oblivious to any other.
    So much in love, we longed for more
    and stayed until the moonglow

    came, and so the rest of night,
    for in each other was delight,
    the kind that lasts throughout a life
    and through its ennui, cares, and strife.
    That picnic set two lives aright,
    aided by the moonglow.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  7. Pingback: Two Poems for a Picnic | The Chalk Hills Journal

  8. Two Poems for a Picnic

    What To Do When It’s Too Hot To Leave Home

    We’re ready.
    We’re packed.
    Wicker hamper filled
    with broad sand beaches,
    sunshine, seagulls calling
    to salt waves rolling,
    and we share our picnic lunch
    on the patio in the shade of trees.

    A Picnic Lune

    Roads are stopped
    Picnic in the car
    We are beached

  9. William Preston on said:

    Your first poem feels all too familiar, given the sticky heat we’ve had in the northeastern United States. The second wasn’t familiar at all: I’d never heard of a lune. Apparently it can be written in 3-5-3-syllable lines, as you did, or 5-3-5. I’ll have to try that. Thanks for posting.

    • And thanks for reading it and leaving me a comment. Always appreciated.

    • Marjory MT on said:

      American Haiku
      using 5-3-5 syllables per line – LUNE per Robert Kelly
      using 3-5-3 words per line – LUNE per Jack Collon

      See In-form Poems listed at top of our garden blog.

  10. PICNIC

    Picnic perfection with one exception:
    melon felons.

  11. DebiSwim on said:

    Food of Love

    We trudged through cool, white sand
    to a secluded, rocky cove we knew,
    spread out the blanket and placed
    beach towels as a pillows for our head,
    tuned the transistor to soft dreamy music
    then laughed that we had forgotten
    our basket of food and wine.
    We listened to the crashing waves
    and the radio croon Blue Moon
    as the stars murmured along
    and then… you kissed me,
    long, tender, sweet. I felt giddy
    intoxicated by your lips.
    Oh, the honeyed words you
    slipped into my ear, love and promises
    that would endure all our years
    and I was filled, completely sated
    and thought, What mortals have need of food
    who feast on a banquet such as this?

  12. Pingback: The Contents and a Smile | Metaphors and Smiles

    • Have to run…literally…take my sis’s dog for a run and head to the sanctuary for a while! Smiles to all be back to read later. 🙂

      • Henrietta Choplin on said:

        Aww… I can relate… I am currently fostering a “walrus dog” (part Shar Pei, part Bassett Hound [spelling?]) – She Loves to take runs with me :)!!

        • Nice!! Sounds like an interesting breed…my sis’s is a black Lab…he’s a really smart one, too…they’ve done a brilliant job with him plus I ♥ dogs!

          • Henrietta Choplin on said:

            !!:D Well, Molly went back to H.S for adoption, and tomorrow I get two new puppies!! 😀

            • Ooo!! I love puppies! My sis’s coming to get this sweet guy tomorrow. :/ Mixed feelings…seven days in a row now of running!! That’s a record for me, I think! 🙂

              Fun talking dogs with you my friend!

      • Henrietta Choplin on said:

        Yes!! My new puppies are Australian Cattle Dog breed. Rambunctious and adorable!! Too young to run the trail with me just yet. :D!!

        • Oh, wow…those are a beautiful and wonderful breed!! Now, do you get to keep them…are you fostering again? I’d love to have one of those…puppies!!! Squish them for me! 🙂

  13. The Contents and a Smile
    A silk veil of indigo awareness,
    small set of hand drums,
    a violet coin-skirt,
    the voice in my chest,
    and for the contemplative moments-
    a composition book,
    and a pen brimming of ink.
    We’ll ensure securely within
    a sage colored velvet covered kaleidoscope,
    a linen napkin tied at its corners-
    filled with farm-fresh lettuce,
    we’ll have two tall mason jars…
    one holds fresh drinking water
    the other sustenance akin to that of birds
    and small animals:
    flax, sunflower, pumpkin and sesame seeds
    raisins, raw coconut, kelp granules
    and a happy dose of cinnamon.
    The contents of this wicker-woven basket
    will be shared generously,
    following the pattern of the sky
    the sea and the beach beneath our feet.
    Pale green dune grasses sway
    in unison with feet, legs and hips,
    rib cages, arms, hands and heads…
    all parts are integral.
    The natural and human elements-
    in harmony,
    true accordance
    in this sacred shore side celebration.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin

  14. William Preston on said:


    I spent
    the entire time
    picnicking with my love.
    With good food, good wine, and sunshine,
    she was a feast for my eyes.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  15. A Picnic at the Beach

    A get-together on the beach
    Large white-capped waves are rolling in
    In all good conscience, I must admit
    That a note of sea-sickness will begin

    The up and down movement makes me sick
    Beans and potato salad, I leave alone.
    I feed my hot dogs to our Lab
    A big mistake if we left him home!

    A wagging tail translates to a happy pup
    Our friends detect his urge to swim
    While I rest, they splash and run
    I am feeling better just watching him!

  16. This poem is also a “Wordle” from the Sunday Whirl Wordles.
    The words are: together, friends, rest, mistake, leave, sick, conscience, second lab, translate, note, detect.

  17. connielpeters on said:

    Oh, We Love to Picnic

    Oh, we love to picnic! And this is what we’ll take:
    Watermelon, chicken, and biscuits that flake,
    Potato chips, pretzels, vegetables and rolls,
    Rotini Salad, potato salad, Jell-O by the bowls,
    Chocolate chip cookies like our grandmas make,

    Ice water and lemonade (don’t forget to shake),
    Hamburgers, condiments, plus sirloin steak.
    We’ll cook them sizzling hot with glowing coals.
    Oh, we love to picnic!

    And what shall we eat it on?—make no mistake,
    but remember blankets, flatware, paper cups and plates.
    And let’s take the volleyball, the net and poles.
    We’ll play a game or two, then go for some strolls.
    But after we eat so much, it’s hard to stay awake.
    Oh, we love to picnic!

  18. sheryl kay oder on said:

    Hi everyone. So far this month I am taking a prompt break.

    No picnic for me
    or even a beach.

    I’m packing my blog.
    with old poems I reach.

    There is other writing
    That I must do.

    Right now I’m sending
    this bad poem to you.


  19. Life is a Beach – Picnic

    Oh! sing of picnic table filled with grace
    Bright, checkered-red; it rests upon this sand
    Kentucky fried, potato salad face
    when suddenly, fate’s mocking our demands.

    Oh! rush to cover from the dark`ning cloud.
    So, scurry with our feet like running crab
    and seize some shelter ‘fore the table’s shroud
    as wet and sticky, chicken gravy slab.

    Oh! dark the sky and blue this trembling sea
    and pale our lips; the sun has sailed way.
    We munch our lunch beneath the dripping tree
    We laugh because this shower will not stay.

    Oh! sing of picnic table filled with grace
    Kentucky fried; potato salad face.

  20. William Preston on said:


    Our picnic at the beach is interrupted
    by thunder and the smell of coming rain:
    the wind begins to rise; the blankets fly;
    the food becomes enmeshed in blowing sand
    and even gulls depart, to stand together,
    facing out to sea.

    I see a blending of the sky and sea:
    the horizon line has ceased, interrupted
    where the two have joined in hand together,
    the water of the ocean slathered by rain
    and both of them marching, daring sand
    to halt them as they fly

    toward the shore. Only shorebirds fly,
    unconcerned in flocks above the sea;
    for them the picnic is in moistened sand,
    and storms provide a bubbling feast, interrupted
    only by typhoons and swirling rain
    that sometimes come together

    in the fall. Then, the flock must squeeze together
    on the shore, deigning not to fly
    until the wind has died and angry rain
    calms down. But now they cruise the shore and sea,
    their plans, unlike ours, uninterrupted
    by wind and blowing sand.

    We find a vacant hut that sea and sand
    have not yet undermined. We stand together,
    listening to the rain come down, interrupted
    by bolts and blasts. Ocean odors fly
    toward us, borne aloft from whitened sea
    and given by the rain.

    We decide to have our picnic in the rain:
    we find a spot below a dune of sand
    and watch the shorebirds play tag with the sea;
    we grin as picnic odors blend together
    with rain and sky and sea, all on the fly.
    Our day is not interrupted.

    In coming days, in the rain, we will think together
    on that day on the sand, and when shorebirds fly
    we will be one with the sea, no longer interrupted.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

    My father had a saying, “God hates a coward,” so I decided to try a sestina. Boy, these things are tough!

  21. William Preston on said:


    Bring out the beer and bring out the pop;
    bring out the burgers, lots and lots,
    and bring out the salads, potato chips too,
    and never, but never, forget the white hots!

    copyright 2013, William Preston

    Walt most probably knows what white hot dogs are. I’ve encountered them almost everywhere between Syracuse and Buffalo, but nowhere else in the United States, by that name, anyway.

  22. Marjory MT on said:


    Soft bay breeze
    whispering o’er sand
    to fill longing hearts with deep love.
    Crackers and cheese, blanket for two
    spread in hidden cove.
    Nothing more

  23. Sea Urchin Picnic (Sestina)

    We stormed the beach as any swimmer would
    and settled on our blankets by the lee.
    A hushed and rushing sound came from the surf.
    We heard within that crush, sea urchins free.
    They chanted welcome to our planned picnic
    and so we supped with urchins by the sea.

    Sea urchins to a picnic, from the sea
    they coast upon blue waters as they would,
    should any care to join our free picnic,
    and settle in the sounding of this lee.
    So anyone will tell you; they are free
    to join our tea; come rushing from the surf.

    They rush upon our blanket from the surf.
    They spin and dance; all-driven from the sea.
    They bend and fly as water bird so free
    They curl and swim as any human would
    They sip their sandy tea upon this lee;
    a safer harbor for a free picnic.

    Welcome to all urchins for a picnic!
    Bring all your friends who float the briny surf.
    Bring all the little fishies from the lee
    Bring all the monsters from the roaring sea
    Bring seagulls that are white as any would
    and sing of sea foam and the sea grass, free.

    The rolling sea beside the surf is free.
    So the foamy urchins fly to picnic
    they brunch with us as seaweed urchin would
    on salty sandwich, shiny shell and surf
    there’s tea for those who sip beside the sea
    protection in the curve of this lulled lee.

    Oh, heaven sent; to picnic by this lee!
    For urchin and for swimmer, it is free.
    We’ll all be soon a float`in in the sea.
    So best, for all, we plan that grand picnic
    and clasping hands we wade into the surf
    with all sea friends as any human would

    Oh, once we were so free beside this lee
    as urchin, friend and foe surf by this sea
    gave picnic for a friend as any would.

  24. Took me exactly two hours to write this.

  25. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Silken Breeze

    The fragrance
    of warm skin,
    the aroma of our meal
    A touch,
    a taste
    Moments that we savored.

  26. Seaside Meal

    Lying on the beach
    crabs and gulls
    munch my bloated corpse

    Beach Picnic

    lunch on the beach
    an umbrella provides
    a break from the sun, but not from
    the sand

  27. Pingback: It’s No Picnic | echoes from the silence

  28. Reunions

    Once a year
    we meet
    along the Mississippi
    to chat and eat.

    We catch up on news
    while sharing great food,
    we play a little bingo
    everyone’s in a good mood.

    We snap photos
    and laugh,
    we hold babies
    and we eat more on behalf
    of those not with us.

    The party is over
    in the late heat of day,
    after snapping that group shot
    it’s time we were on our way.

    Until next year
    we say good-bye
    and pick up where we left off
    with hardly a blink of an eye.

  29. Why The Beach?

    I came for scent of brine,

    suntan lotion cooking on skin.

    I came for sight of white waves,
children jumping and whooping.
    I came for sounds of raucous
gulls, water slapping shore.

    I came for touch of cold ocean

    lapping my legs.

    I came for taste of deviled eggs, chicken sandwiches,
chilled plums, oatmeal cookies,
and chips
    as salty as the sea,
under my picnic basket’s lid.

  30. Pingback: Picnic | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  31. Picked in the Nick of Time

    A market stop
    Fresh baked bread
    A hunk of Parmesan
    Bottle of wine
    Sink into warm sand
    And toast the

  32. ejparsons on said:

    Chillin’ On the Sand

    Lay down the blanket
    Put up the umbrella
    Open the basket
    And grab an iced tea

    Picnic on the beach
    Chillin’ on the sand
    Life is really great
    Just my love and me

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

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