July 27thThe vacation, as they usually do, is starting to wide down. We need to start thinking about returning “home” to our routine. We’ve had fun. We’ve relaxed. We daydreamed and envisioned better things for the world and ourselves. Look out to the horizon and realize there are many possibilities to ponder. Write a ‘horizon’ poem.



July 26 – Watersports

July 25 – Collecting Seashells

July 24 – Sunburn/Suntan (Rondeau)

July 23 – Romance

July 22 – A Million Fish in the Sea

66 thoughts on “LIFE IS A BEACH – HORIZONS

  1. New Horizons

    New Horizons beckon new beginnings
    New beginnings lead to new paths
    New paths eventually guide you better roads
    Better roads take you to destinations unimaginable
    With the stars by your side
    Under a crystal canopy sky
    With a deep breath and a sigh
    Let the journey begin.


  2. Pingback: Docked | echoes from the silence


    At night,
    red horizons,
    they say, bring fair weather,
    but your red-rimmed eyes proffer scant

    copyright 2013, William Preston


    Feet planted firmly on shore
    ready to take that next step.
    The possibilities are boundless,
    but we must choose to do
    what is best, and the rest must
    understand. The promise of
    a new day is not as distant
    as you think. On the brink of
    a brave new world. Give it a whirl.

  5. Across the Ripples

    The sun sits on the horizon
    shining a golden path across the ripples.
    The boulders of the rocky shore
    become black boats
    sailing toward glowing sky.

    When the Son’s centered on our horizon,
    shining a golden path across the ripples,
    we change in His light
    following the golden path
    to glowing heavens.

  6. Ado

    I’m on my way
    to a land in the north
    where the sky is clear
    and Fur Elise cannot buzz in my ear.

    So, goodbye my good fellows
    enjoy the daily grind
    I’ll be lying above the rocky beach
    swaying in my hammock
    as I listen to the loons…

    and as the sun sets below the horizon
    I’ll think of you – briefly…
    sending you a kiss on the wind
    as I go back to watching the show,
    the Aurora Borealis.

  7. This one’s kinda like me – older and poked and jabbed a bit.

    Range in the Sky

    By David De Jong

    Not really sure what caused all this to come to a cowpoke’s mind,
    Ain’t suff’rin’, or ill, just celebratin’ life, feelin’ just fine.

    But there is this one bequest I make before the day I die,
    Take me home, with my boots an’ hat, to that range up in the sky.

    Where the sky is blue, where the herd and horizon never end,
    Every campfire warms a gurglin’ pot, and many-a friend.

    When the ground gets parched, pasture’s turnin’ brown, and the roots are dry,
    I’ll round up a herd of rain clouds and drive em down from the sky.

    With a cool steady breeze coaxin’ em in silent from the east,
    It’ll nourish the earth back to life for a bountiful feast.

    Won’t be a need to hurry, no cause for anyone to fret,
    Though the sun may touch the horizon, she’ll never, ever, set.

    Darkness forever gone, evil of night, eternally lost,
    Shed blood of a pure Lamb, God’s perfect Son, its ultimate cost.

    No matter the length of the trail my mount will never tire,
    This range is open an open range – not a post – no sight of wire.

    Whenever you begin sheddin’ a tear or just strivin’ to cope,
    I’ll coral those clouds and steer a ray of light, to shed some hope.

    The Paint and I will race the cirrus and give a hasty chase,
    We’ll make that ol’ cloud break, and drive sun beams, till they touch your face.

    I’ll sit round the fire and hear stories from David and Paul,
    They’ll tell of their adventures and help me make sense of it all.

    Paul’s ride on the trail to Damascus when he lost all his sight,
    What went thru his mind, when Christ spoke to him from that blindin’ light?

    David will show his scars from battle and beasts of the field,
    He’ll let us hold the stones and sling, that made Goliath yield.

    So when the day comes and I’m gone, don’t you fret for me; no, none,
    Rest assured, I know my fate’s secure, with my Savior, God’s son.

    The Almighty beat the devil at his game of having fun,
    Nothin’ I can do to pay my price, Father and Son, have won.

    Make sure ya’ll place Him in your heart, before your days are done,
    Do it now; before the trigger’s pulled, before lead leaves the gun.

    Hankerin’ to greet; Mom, Dad, Pakka, Beppe and Tantje Bet,
    I know there’ll be a-slew of kin around, haven’t ever met.

    I hope when you think on me, you shed a smile, never a tear,
    Just remember, as you pass the pines, I’ll whisper in your ear.

    I’ll relish all the memories of joy; I’ll understand the pain,
    You’ll know the day it happens – when tears of joy come down as rain.

    You take your time, take no concern, of comin’ up there too late,
    Reins in hand, I’ll be waitin’, patient like, right at the front gate.

    Come evenin’, on that day the old hearse rolls and passes ya by,
    Look to the west, I’ll be a-ridin’ fresh horse, paintin’ the sky.

  8. Life’s a Beach – Horizon poem

    I ponder how our marriage to the sea
    so faithful to the shoreline, turns again.
    Again, the lapping rhythm of the wave,
    she aims; her arms aglow, an endless gift.

    Attenuated shoreline moves about,
    her decibels repeated; hear her sighs.
    The sea , our mother, entreats and enfolds
    a world of tears for those who, silent, cry.

    A walk along this water’s breaking morn,
    ave; farewell my heart. We had our play
    along this ever-restful, peaceful shore
    where love repeats with more love than before.

    (still working on learning how to write blank verse… it is strange how the rhyme comes, anyway, even when I think less about it)


    Bucket of dreams
    Brim full of possibilities
    Bucket of dreams
    collected ‘neath the soft moon beams
    of things to do, places to see,
    promises, hopes of what might be.
    Bucket of dreams.

    I wish I had more time just now to read and comment – it is just not to be. So…. I am looking forward to enjoying the Chap Books of Beach poems

  10. A Line at the Feet of the World

    A line stretches my vision far and wide,
    a line that moves when I do, always there
    beyond me, teasing, tucking things inside
    I long to see and touch, to lift and bear,
    although I sit along a shore and stare.

    Sometimes imagination lets me reach
    and walk that far horizon like a rope
    above the dimpled waves, the world a beach
    long miles away, as pristine as my hope–
    Queen of the air, the sky within my scope.

    I curl my toes around it, hold a beam
    for balancing my busy mind, for calm,
    and see another line beyond, a dream
    of beauty, promise, like a rising psalm.
    Touching forevers smooth me like a balm.

    Sometimes it seems horizons’ magic grids
    across my life framed possibilities
    that I could realize by what I did,
    unopened doors to selves, lithe dancing keys
    to what I might become, to vanities.

    I watch sky coloring, but do I dare?
    I take the challenge, leap and bounce around;
    I thrill myself, a sunset in my hair.
    Each place I look, new horizons abound,
    the one I walk, just steps above the ground.

    • Superb work, and the rhymes are calming, settling sounds. Wonderful. And that phrase, “line that moves when I do,” is perfect, perhaps even another instance of sneaky fast.

  11. This is an older, refurbished poem, but I still hum this song when someone mentions horizons to me, then I remember Miss Annie. Sorry for repetition.

    Rising Sun

    “Beyond the blue horizon/ Waits a beautiful day / Goodbye to things that bore me/ Joy is waiting for me./ I see the new horizon/ My life has only begun/ Beyond the blue horizon/ Lies a rising sun.” Howard and Cochran

    Miss Annie whistles better than a man
    as if she’d played a trumpet in her youth—
    a fulsome sound, rounded with vibrato.
    It’s beautiful to hear; it warms the heart.

    Cleaning and nursing staff love helping her
    to hear her hum or whistle something grand:
    some Louis Armstrong, love songs, or big band,
    the music she once danced to, each old song

    a memory that fills part of a day
    now that she’s old and like a comma, bent.
    This snappy melody makes them all smile
    and even young ones want to know the words.

    She warbles, “Goodbye to things that bore me…
    life has only begun…” How their eyes shine.
    She sings and whistles grandly up the hall
    curled in around her walker, moving slow.

    She suffers pain, but you would never know
    the way she greets a day and meets each eye.
    She’s what the old ones call a “sweetie pie”;
    her music lets them visit former days,

    remembering when they were young and spry,
    slender and fond of flirting, dancing, sex.
    Sometimes one of her songs sticks for a day
    in their old minds, where long ago abides.

    A young attendant brings his worn guitar
    to learn her songs, share camaraderie
    with her young spirit, his thoughts years ahead,
    imagining his body gone to seed,

    imagining dark shadows in his head.
    He wants to be like Annie, one sweet day,
    He wants to be a sweetie pie with hope
    in new horizons, faith in rising suns.

    • This is a wonderful story, again beautifully told. We were thinking of the same old song.

  12. OVER THERE (Parsons poem)

    The sea
    always draws me:
    it speaks of mystery
    and every possibility
    beyond the blue horizon.

    copyright 2013m William Preston

  13. Pingback: Of the Horizon | Metaphors and Smiles

  14. Of the Horizon
    clasped hands,
    feather white
    fingers unfold
    revealing the moon.
    Soon palms are cupping her
    holding her invisibly,
    suspended in an inky sheet
    arms of cloud steal away into night-
    leaving a lunar portal behind them.
    Under the gaze of her unblinking face
    we do not shy away in her light
    our shoulders and heads are held high,
    illuminated by her
    offering self-skyward
    lit with her pale kiss-
    we are tokens.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013


    The ship
    is fading fast
    from view, taking with her
    dreams, schemes, and extreme hopes toward
    the far bright rim of the world.

    copyright 2013

  16. Far Away Horizons

    How prominent in breadth
    and importance earthlings think
    there planet is, when far away a scope
    in space takes pictures, showing
    a small blue dot. Earth is only
    a speck in their horizon. Perhaps
    we ought to broaden our own.

  17. In the Wings

    It’s fairy dust, really,
    this sandy stuff. And if
    you sprinkle enough
    in your hungry pocket
    or pants cuff, smuggle
    it home in bucket
    or shell,
    it might sprinkle loose
    and stay.

    It’s a new day, and that fat
    sassy sun is still gonna come
    up strong. Let’s sparkle
    -dust her dawn, for we
    might as well rise,
    as well.


  18. Pingback: In the Wings | Whimsygizmo's Blog


    I look out across the distance,
    across time,
    across life.
    I see our joys and stuggles,
    our triumphs,
    and our strife.
    We’ve been through it all together,
    through laughter,
    and through tears.
    We’ve shared our lifelong journey,
    our life goals,
    and our fears.
    I am so lucky to see this horizon
    and my life
    joining you.
    We have have been quite fortunate
    in sharing
    such a view.

  20. Marie, I was trying to post this with just the beautiful pic of my granddaughter and the poem, but somehow it posted EVERYTHING. I am technically challenged. Please clean this comment up. A big oops. LOL

  21. Bright, Shining Future

    What’s this…
    I see?
    Puppies, pictures, and poetry…? 🙂 !!

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