We celebrate summer with a trek to the beach. The shore beckons us to write a poem on its inspiration. As always, branch out in any direction as you shore up your verse. Write the sights, sounds, smells of the shore. A sunset appeals, as does a sunrise, sea gulls and swarms of swimmers … take the plunge and write it!


High School Years, Snippets with Mom and Dad (Naples Beach, 1970s)

I pick up sea glass,
rub it between my fingers,
this heart-shaped God gift.

My dad finds twin shells,
quietly pockets them, then
makes earrings for me.

Sunset walk with Mom.
She tells me, “You’ll soon prefer
a romantic walk.”

Walking home from Pier,
something stings me on my foot.
Dad carries me home. 

The sun dips itself
into the Gulf.  We give a
standing ovation.  

An early-sunrise-
beach-all-to-myself morning.
A short bike ride home.

Just curious how
many dads would carry their
teenage daughter home.

Turned out Mom was right.
And part of me holds regret
for lost walks with her.  

Wonder if the next
to find the heart-shaped sea glass
saw it as God’s gift. 

© Marie Elena Good, 2022



The tender shore breeze frees my words
from the prison of my mind,
I find my head clears here 
where the skies are the purest blue,
azure, for sure. It seems the cure for 
this muddled muse which at times 
uses rhymes like nickels and dimes
to buy a clue.  But then a stray cloud
plays through and rouses me
to choose the azure blue in lieu
of something ominous. Midday promises
to inspire, the higher into the sky you view.
It offers the truest blue to you.
Purely azure, for sure.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik - 2022

172 thoughts on “PROMPT #397 – TEEMING SHORE

  1. Tourists
    Flood the beaches
    The locals wait them out
    They need to have their beach fun too
    We’ll have our fun when they leave

  2. Beaches
    Snow White beaches
    Emerald green waters lap
    Such beauty is rare to behold
    Beauty only God could make


    My war never ended…
    Frazzled, noxious, tossed by waves;
    lost at sea, turning about with embroilment,
    I could see—the phantasmagorical shores of peace.

    I never knew them.
    To set foot upon the solid ground of fantasy lands,
    move the sands in between my feet, was all
    a fleeting illusion.

    I coveted stillness—
    The constant motion, of deep fluid emotions
    never at rest, but growing to know an agitated
    froth was overwhelming.

    I see them at the shores…
    Basking in the glorious light of day, getting
    drenched, drunk, with the new wine of her rays.

    © Benjamin Thomas


    I saw the magnificence of the sea;
    roiling off the coast of Rockport,
    but my heart was ashore,
    sitting next to me.

    Her charming allure made an entire ocean
    disappear. When she was near—the sweet
    satin kingdom of paradise was here.

    Her exquisite skin was a tease of smooth caramel.
    Her long flowing hair were locks of shadows,
    but her eyes were bright, smart, luscious.

    The majesty of the sea was jealous of her grace,
    for all marveled at her magnificence—my heart,
    sitting next to me.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  5. The surf rolls in

    bringing its pounding
    sonourous self
    pushing further and further inward
    onto the soft sand

    bringing seashells
    smoothed rocks
    weathered seaglass
    and bits of old trees
    polished to smooth
    warming under a summer sun

    Overhead gulls scream
    dive low
    awaiting the tender morsels
    of lunches
    already spread under beach umbrellas
    they are no man’s fools
    they know what’s coming

    two-legged visitors
    run into the water screaming delight
    or step gingerly into its coldness
    and watch as the tide flows back
    from where it came
    a relentless to and fro
    of the ocean

    © Carolyn Wilker July 2022


    Sea and sand
    rescind the land
    with ever-pounding shear:
    the sandbar present on this day
    may on the morrow wash away
    and all the plovers here
    will find no more
    than wisps of shore
    to scrape their nests this year.


    Who am I really?
    Among the illimitable grains
    of khaki sand?

    Am I sinful, or judged for the individualistic
    contemplations amidst the collective masses?

    Even though I stand shoulder to shoulder
    with my brethren on the shores of my land,

    Am I selfish for my impassioned pleas?
    Or is my bewildered head truly in the sand?

    © Benjamin Thomas

  8. Shore Lines

    Impossible to resist,
    the looking back,
    thinking about change,
    the passing of time,
    merely a human tack.
    Wondering about our lake,
    a blessing in the dog days of summer,
    those Midwest days from June to September,
    when there was no A/C to crank up,
    just a small fan. Remember?
    Is it still a playground without toys,
    loved by local girls and boys?
    No matter one’s age
    one can’t forget the days,
    the excitement when we’d awaken,
    the unfettered joys,
    shared with friends
    that time has taken.
    Nothing too grand,
    yet all of it magical,
    our days and nights at our lake,
    on our families’ shores,
    the warmth of the sun,
    the youthful camaraderie.
    Even more appreciative now of
    what was in our hearts.
    Those summer nights
    under the stars,
    the sights and sounds,
    the Northern Lights.
    Still filled with crickets,
    owls and fireflies?
    Mothers calling?
    Children whispering, telling lies?
    Pretending we couldn’t hear them,
    our mothers, all of them,
    sitting, listening to the gentle waves
    lapping at the shore,
    just wishing we never had to leave our beach,
    never, not ever,
    not knowing then we just wanted
    to stay young and happy, evermore.

  9. I am going back in time for one…and it was the most incredible moment of my life…

    Shore Walk

    I had joined my friends
    For a walk on a winter’s beach.
    Twilight was falling fast into night.
    The wind came whistling across the ocean surface-
    Biting cold brought tears that came to our eyes-
    Our faces stung- this was not a walk for the faint hearted.
    Our laughter burst into the air,
    Saying we dare you wind, and it warmed us….
    The wind died to a whisper…
    I heard its call, and stopped…
    One friend called, “Are you coming?”
    I hated to break the spell …
    I called back, “In a moment….”
    I heard them comment among themselves and laugh…I smiled…

    I bent down and took off my shoes,
    I wanted to touch the cold winter ocean…
    When I stepped into the water…
    The Wind had me…
    There was a storm out on the horizon-lightening flashed
    Jagged spears of light….

    I reached my arms wide
    Creation was there before me…
    And I was smaller than a grain of sand, but
    Larger than the night…
    For I held the wind within my hands
    And captured the night within my arms…

    The wind pulled white angel hair
    Veiling the darken blue sky and silver stars…
    The wind reached into Creation’s birth
    And pulled it back to me-
    I felt it fly thru my fingers
    Into the night air…

    I closed my eyes to hear the music
    I imagined the thunder rolling
    In the distance, I felt the vibrations within the air.

    I held the ocean in my ears, and
    Grasped the storm against my skin…

    The ocean rose and slapped the sand
    Extending from the darken void-
    There flashed the storm
    Electric shades of orange and gold
    And in the night. I possessed them both…

    I felt the ocean suck the sand
    From beneath my bare feet-
    The grains of sand silver gold and so very small, and yet
    Against the night’s stormy sky-
    They each touched the oceans rolls-
    I was smaller than one grain of sand-
    Insignificant in this timeless space…
    For I am trapped by space and time,
    And could not belong to the wind, the sea, or the night.

    I felt the wind release me-
    Felt myself falling back into time-
    I heard the laughter of my friends…
    I looked once more upon the night
    And wondered at the journey there.

    I threw my shoes back on my feet
    And ran to meet my friends…
    One laughed and said, “What happened back there?”
    Another said, “Don’t ask, she is not like us.”
    I smiled and said, “I was watching the storm out there,”
    And shrugged—some things cannot be told.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd


    Adrift upon life’s choppy sea,
    we have failed this day to score a haul.
    And there walking along the shore, He calls,
    “Leave your nets and follow me!”
    “Follow Me!”

    A vagabond? Perhaps some wayward soul
    who casts his gaze across the sky?
    He points to the right and takes control.
    “Lower your nets there” He cries,
    “Follow me!”

    Our nets are over-flowing, as if He was knowing
    where the fish would surely be!
    Full, nearly breaking, there was no mistaking His vision.
    He offers me this one decision, “Be a fisher of men!”
    “Follow Me!”

    “Leave your nets and follow Me,
    Abandon your purse and come and see
    what My Father has in store
    and what’s more, live your life as He wants it to be!”
    “Follow Me!”

    © Walter J Wojtanik

  11. Love’s Dimensions

    And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. Ephesians 3:17-18

    Reclining on my beach chair,
    to the ocean’s steady roar,
    I think about God’s great love
    and blessings He has in store.

    I think about sea creatures
    and the beauty seldom seen,
    from surface to the trenches
    and all lying in between.

    The expanse of the ocean,
    paints a picture from above
    of His grace and forgiveness,
    His compassion and His love.

    As the sand on the seashore,
    as the fishes in the sea,
    as the stars in the night sky,
    is God’s love for you and me.

  12. Afternoon on Point Loma

    I looked one side
    to the Pacific
    reaching as far
    as I could see
    sailboats stretched
    almost to infinity.
    I looked for whales
    to break through waves
    for a moment
    of wonder and glory,
    and I felt so small.

    I looked to the other side
    to see ships, almost all gray
    almost all Navy
    I was sure,
    except for
    an errant freighter or two
    entering and leaving
    the harbor, while I wondered
    what great journeys
    they would take
    while fighter planes
    took off and landed
    at Miramar
    on an island.

    Just beyond the harbor
    a city view glistened
    San Diego and California,
    the state I wanted to see
    all my life, now a journey
    fulfilled to satiate my
    inquisitive mind.

    Cabrillo Memorial
    on the south end
    a statue
    arms outstretched
    for those devoted
    their lives to find
    this stretch of land.

    Residents told tales
    stories shared
    that if anyone
    would stand on this point
    at night lights
    of Tijuana would glitter
    but poor slept in tents
    on its shores.

    Endless visions
    greeted my dreams
    an ocean so alive-
    just on the day before
    I had walked barefoot
    in waves
    at Mission Bay
    feeling the ocean’s pulse.

    A communion
    of ocean and sky
    the sun’s reflection
    a touch of infinity
    in solitude
    as I stood
    and listened
    to stillness in the air,
    and I wanted to stay there
    well beyond my time.

    A story of when I was young
    and finding my way
    like explorers,
    some whose names,
    I’d never known,
    carried through
    my many lives.

  13. Back in 2010, a friend said to me that I had been hit with a tsunami of grief for I had lost twelve people in two years. She was right I had been. In 2010 I started to heal myself by writing my way through the emotions I felt, and then I got to the other side. When I was dealing with loneliness, I wrote this poem. I was at a restaurant and while I was eating, I wrote this down on my napkin.. This would be in 2011.

    Wave upon Wave

    I found myself alone
    Just before the dawn.
    I went out to the balcony,
    Heard the waves slapping the shore, and
    Wandered down to its edge.
    There were
    No children laughing,
    No joggers running,
    No one was there-
    Just myself.
    The sky was beginning to lighten;
    My eyes reached to touch the horizon.
    I felt the loneliness wash over me
    As the waves washed onto the shore.
    Each wave was a day;
    Each day brought that loneliness.
    My eyes tried to touch the horizon
    To see the end of these days.
    It was hidden from view.
    I closed my eyes.
    I saw you still warm but gone.
    I stood still
    Feeling the loneliness wash over me
    Colder than any other time-
    I opened my eyes;
    The waves kept coming.
    The days kept coming,
    Empty except for the loneliness.
    I waded into the water;
    I felt my despair calling me.
    I closed my eyes
    And asked for hope.
    I felt the water on my legs.
    It was not cold.
    I looked to the horizon;
    The bright edge of the sun
    Curved above our sphere’s edge.
    The light was returning.
    I began to hear the sounds
    Of the early risers.
    There was hope.
    I walked from the water,
    And left loneliness behind.
    Mary Elizabeth Todd

  14. I revisited this again, and I wrote it the day before the anniversary of my mother’s death…I still longed for her then… I miss her but my heart doesn’t long her like it did… Maybe I will revisit this idea again…

    Wave upon Wave Revisited

    I had stood
    At the edge of the ocean
    Watching the waves…
    Waves of loss
    Waves of grief
    Waves endless
    Day upon day
    Without relief
    Breaking up hope
    As the waves
    Crashed upon the rocks.
    I had revolved
    To watch for life
    Hearing the waves
    Hearing the roar
    Hearing it come
    Towards me
    Without stopping…
    No sign of mercy
    Just a life forever alone
    Trapped in the pain
    Of loss
    Of regrets
    Of sorrow
    Grief never relents
    An anniversary day arrives
    Of happier times
    Of broken times
    Of celebration times
    It does not matter
    They all bring sorrow
    Sometimes a twinge
    Sometimes a tsunami
    That slams against you
    Before you can take cover.
    I may be laughing
    At some foolish silly craze, and
    A word or memory will flash
    I am back in some room
    Saying goodbye
    It is high tide today
    The waves are coming…
    I hope for the low tides
    For those don’t reach me.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 28, 2018

  15. Sensations at the Shore

    Scents of salt and seaweed greet you
    soon as your bare feet touch soft sand.
    Sea breeze tickles skin as you stand
    at lacy hem of aqua blue.

    Bravely you dip a toe or two
    waiting for roll of wave as planned.
    Scents of salt and seaweed greet you
    soon as your bare feet touch soft sand.

    Hear seagulls screech their cackling tune
    and peck at sand near bodies tanned.
    In the distance your hear a band
    on the boardwalk. It must be noon.
    Scents of salt and seaweed greet you.

  16. Wave upon Wave Requiem

    It happened on one of the last days of spring…
    That longing that raged in my heart almost every day
    As I watched the waves on the beach rising and
    Slapping the sand sometimes dousing it with water…
    And I could feel the tears in my heart doing the same…
    Slowly the gravity pull of loss
    Like the moon pulled upon the sea
    Bringing in high tide
    Slipping out at low tide…
    That loss and its pull
    Became less and less
    As I moved farther inland…
    Listening to the call of life beyond the shore.

    When I realized the longing was
    Going farther and farther
    Into the dark swell of waves
    That reach from the murky bottom
    Until they crash into the sunlight
    Brilliant as a thousand rainbows
    In the droplets are cast into the air
    Reminding me of a promise
    That the floods of life
    Will not destroy me.

    I took one last walk
    Along that beach
    Remembering how my heart
    Was wrenched from me
    Each day and how loneliness
    Anchored me to my losses,
    And did not let me sail into my life.
    That day I sang an elegy
    To my lament…
    I chanted a dirge
    To those that remain
    Somewhere out across the sea
    Beyond where I can reach them.
    I picked up a broken shell,
    And felt the loss it felt
    In its loss of its value…
    I tossed it back into the sea,
    I whispered funeral words to it,
    And looked inland
    For my value was not lost,
    And I would miss those
    I could not see,
    But my heart was free from longing.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    July 31, 2022

  17. I have to give you this one…..

    Once upon a time… I had a fanciful mind

    There was a little girl
    Who made friends of the fairies and elves
    Who lived under the picnic table
    At the back of her yard,
    And in the trees…

    One day Mr. Abercrombie,
    Said, “Come,
    The Starfish king
    Has captured the Fairy Queen’s daughter
    And she is in quite a lot of distress.”

    “But how can we get to the sea…
    Isn’t it far away?”
    The little girl said, as she climbed upon
    The roof’s ledge,
    “I can’t even see it from here.”

    Mr. Abercrombie winked at her,
    “When the dragonfly comes
    Hop on his back for he knows the way.”

    The little girl hopped on the dragonfly
    And it bucked and jumped
    Until she grabbed its reins
    And away they did ride.
    She heard the waves crashing and
    They saw the fairy princess
    Guarded by the Star guards,
    But she wasn’t afraid.

    She marched over to the Starfish
    In their gold and pink uniforms.
    “You need to let her go
    For her Mama misses her.
    You should not be so bad.”

    One Starfish spoke up and
    Said, “We want to return to the night sky
    For we have fallen from the sky.”

    The little girl said, “Silly stars
    You aren’t the stars of the night, but
    Stars of the sea. Let me toss you back into it.”

    The little girl stood at the edge of the beach
    Tossing starfish this way and that until the King
    Came and said,
    “Pray tell what are you doing?”

    “I am sending them back to the sea.
    Silly Starfish thought they were from the sky.”

    The Starfish King said, “Will you throw me back?”
    The little girl giggled.
    “Only if you dance one dance with me
    Under the full moon tonight.”

    The elves all came out to dance under the moon.
    The little girl danced an elegant dance
    With the King Starfish while the pelican played the fiddle,
    And with the help of all of the elves
    She kept her promise and tossed the King Starfish
    Up to the moon and there he fell deep into the ocean.

    Mr. Abercrombie said, “Come dance with me
    Along the strand.”

    “I will if you tell me how
    I can get home because
    I am getting sleepy.”

    “Don’t worry,” he said
    Tomorrow morning you will wake in your bed.”
    They danced on the strand
    While the sea turtle
    Played his harmonica.
    Mr. Abercrombie kissed her forehead,
    The little girl yawned and fell asleep.
    The elves took her on their magic steed
    Laying in the fairy princess lap
    To her bed which was the couch.

    She woke in the morning
    And remembered it all,
    She told her mother, and
    She smiled at her fanciful minded daughter.
    “What will she do with this child?”

    I know this story is true
    For I remember the ride
    On the dragonfly.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 8, 2019

  18. Pleading Shores

    They change…
    no, they do not…
    but yes, they do,
    depending on when I stand here,
    or there at other junctions of the land and sea and sky.

    Some rocks stand strong and grand on this one shore,
     for eons here, countenances softened maybe over time,
    but sitting solid, still,
     silent stone,
     since who knows when.
    Lashes of black roaring waves, insistent forces shouting their demands, persist.
    A sky, gray and dark and
    full of roiling cloud,
    listens so intently to the cry.

    At times I am at other shores,
    standing on white sand, a golden sky above, an undulating gulf of whispers in my ears.
    It laps a salty foam around my ankles as I pray.
    The gentle surf prays back to me, each wash of warmth
    around my feet
     a plea,
     an interceding plea.

    How much wanting,
    how much hope,
    how much longing happens
    on a shore?
    Uncertainty and faith meet there,
    and kiss like justice and sweet mercy do,
    beneath a sky of possibilities.

    © Damon Dean, 2022

  19. I want to explain this next poem a bit… Back at the end of 2018, the inheritance (the herd of cats my mother left me) were gone, I had melanoma on my face, I had lost my purpose when those cats died, my furnace was broken and so was my airconditioner, and I was broke… Each Lent.. I do a study and that year I did one on a very long poem in the Celtic Daily Prayer… The poem was about Brendon and his crossing the Atlantic in a leather boat… It was a called “A call to Risky Living” . This part of the poem I give part of the essay and then the prayer I wrote after it…I follow a group called the Northumbrian Community and they have two rules of Life 1) Be accessible to God and people and 2) be vulnerable to God and People…. I am sorry this is long…

    The last few months have been a series of events that have taken me to sea, and I seem to be lost out on the water. Part of me watching and waiting for the next wave to hit, and part of me hoping I had seen the last of the waves. I began to count the waves watchful for the seventh wave. The one I will not survive… then I remember I have a very good Pilot on my ship, and He will guide me to shore when the storm is behind me.
    The thing most important, when you are out at sea, is to have a map, and skills to survive the waves, and courage. I have those things, and I have learned over the years that I am made of strong mettle.
    The next section from The Celtic Daily Prayer Book is one of the sections that touched me the deepest. It is about a storm at sea. I will post it tomorrow. I needed to explain why being at sea was different than being in a wilderness.

    Seventh Wave

    There is an ancient legend
    That the old sailors knew.
    When a gale wind blew in,
    And storm is pelting down…
    Beware of the seventh wave
    For it will break you up, and
    You will be lost at sea.

    That seventh wave is said to carry
    All the fury of the storm,
    Coming from the dark deep
    Lifting up your craft,
    Pulling back
    So your craft slams hard upon the water.
    It will then slam hard over you
    Breaking your ship into splinters..
    Water washing everything away.
    All will be lost.

    My life has been like a small ship
    In the force of a gale.
    The waves come sliding under me
    Lifting me high,
    And I slam with force upon the sea.
    I have been shaken;
    My muscles are bruised, and
    My old bones ache from the fall.

    I have counted the waves
    Wondering when the seventh wave
    Will rise high above me
    Slamming into my ship
    With the force of a giant sledge hammer.
    That seventh wave will toss me into the storm
    So I can see heaven, and
    Will jerk away
    Sending me into the dark unknown
    Of an earth made hell.

    Standing here I am counting the waves.
    I am on the deck…
    Hoping this gale will end, and
    There won’t be a seventh wave.
    Despite my aching bones and bruised muscles
    I stand watch…
    The warrior in me
    Will stand.
    It is who I am.
    It is what I do.
    Come hell or high water
    I will stand.

    Besides, I know I have the Pilot by my side
    And He can handle the waves.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    March 7&13, 2019

    Dear Lord,
    Thank you for guiding me thru this gale storm. I have hurt deeply during this time. I have been fearful in my worry, but calmed by your smoothing out the waves. Thank you from the depth of my grateful heart.
    Thank you also for yesterday… I got lost… my dyslexia kicked in, but then I was able to visit with some old friends and have a lovely meal. I came home tired, but my heart felt joy.
    Love ya,

  20. Like Turning the Pages

    of a well-thumbed book once again
    you frame that day
    alone in the tiny cove thrown up
    by dunes and grasses off the coast
    of Veracruz

    a tiny beach you can encompass
    with the sweep of your arms
    empty except for blue crabs’
    scuttling like cats at the door
    you playing peek-a-boo with them
    guessing from which hole
    they’ll pop like errant moles

    water filling your footsteps
    as rapidly as the silence and winter
    sun burning your shoulders
    somewhere the ocean’s crashing
    beyond your sight hidden by the hummocks
    so that you are safe from so much

    how you cradle it still the memory
    an empty shell light as air
    upon your hand all the life gone
    out of it and yet the metallic blue
    shimmering against your skin
    a skittering soft as a shadow
    gliding across your mind.

    Marie & Walt, so appreciate your ‘musings’ today!

  21. most of us live near a beach
    swimming surfing budgie smugglers
    all part of our culture
    there are so many
    one can always find an uncrowded one
    mainly at the harbour beaches
    lousy weather so far this year
    atypically lots of floods
    but the snow bunnies are happy
    best snow ever

  22. the profile picture is what this poem is about….

    The photo of the brave girl

    The summer I was two
    We lived on Lake Huron
    In a town called Oscoda…
    We lived on the lake,
    And I loved to run into the water.
    It was the summer I learned to escape.
    Each day Ma tried to keep me
    Safe inside, but each day I escaped
    And ran for the water…

    I have heard the tales of my antics,
    And how Ma wanted to bolt every door.
    She laughed once and said,
    “You even climbed out a window.”

    There is this photo of me,
    Running wearing a t-shirt and panties
    As fast as I could to the water…
    My hair wispy and curling closer to blonde
    Than to brown but that would change.
    The breakers bouncing around me
    As I went into the dark blue water.
    I was running to my brother Joe
    Who stood in water above my nose.
    The waves did not daunt me.
    Fear did not stop me…
    But I imagine Ma was yelling
    At my father to stop me
    Before I drowned.

    My father took many pictures of me
    That summer, and since my mother
    Cut the elastic in my panties
    Because she did not want my circulation cut off,
    They fell down constantly,
    And waited until he got a picture of my pink bottom
    With me pulling them back up.
    That one showed up in every slide show
    My father gave to us.
    It makes me smile, but

    The photo of that fearless girl
    Who ran straight into the water-
    Reminds me when I forget
    That I am still that girl,
    And I can face anything.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    August 2, 2022


    The perpetual aquamarine rush of Atlantic
    waves fill the midday air.

    They incessantly crash—as if they didn’t care,
    one upon the other, trampling one another.

    Children near the shore get a taste of
    Mother Earth, the strength of the sea.

    As if to say, “you are all powerless before me,
    you are not in control.”

    The wind and the way of the waves cannot,
    will not, be tamed by the will of any man.

    They can—and come and go as they please,
    flowing to and fro, here and there.

    Who can know the mind of such abyss?
    Yet we can rest atop her shores pondering this.

    © Benjamin Thomas


    Tis the mercy of the old, old deep—
    whether to permit splashes of one’s pure pleasure,
    or consume the soul within its own cruel measure
    to keep.

    Waters unto life yield to passing vessel,
    waves heavily restrained to the passerby,
    or vengeance from dark abyss’s stark terror cry?

    Only the greying witness of traversing cloud,
    with grave smitten conscience wails aloud—
    many weeping tears amidst night’s stricken skies.

    © Benjamin Thomas


    What crystalline truce lies between
    the expanse of lands and boundless,
    hulking seas?

    A granular, fine foundation of sands—
    the faithful bastion of solid ground,
    interposed twixt dalliance and mordant pleas.

    © Benjamin Thomas

  26. If I Could Go Back

    If I could go back
    to Point Loma.
    I’d still like
    to stand on the hill
    watch the sail boats
    on the Pacific
    and stretching as far
    as I could see.
    I’d like
    to take in the wonder
    of stillness
    and watch their frail frames
    and sails taken by the wind
    while below the ocean
    pulses and breathes.
    I’d like to take in
    the reflections
    as endless waters glisten
    under a watchful sun.
    I’d like to gaze
    at the statue
    of John Rodriguez Cabrillo
    with arms stretched to his side
    greets the boats in his watch
    as they come and go
    and casual outings reflect greater journeys
    the stories of explorers told
    well beyond mortal lives

Plant your poem or comment here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s