LPiA-23 Nov. 20

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 20

Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a New Reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for the month of November. (or one, or six, or fifteen) Prompts may be revisited at any time. All members are welcome.

Topic : Write a poem inspired by sun, surf and sand. 
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[Pike]

Beach[ed]

A gloomy beach where secrets keep,
and shadows dance and whispers weep,
Rats scuttle across the sand, their eyes aglow,
As raindrops fall and tears don't show.

Each droplet tells a tale of sorrow and despair,
As black waves crash upon the shore, without a care.
The air hangs heavy, burdened with a somber weight,
Echoing the ache within the heart's tempestuous state.

The beach, a stage for souls lost in pain,
Their footprints erased by relentless rain—
Yet, amidst the darkness, a flickering light appears,
A beacon of hope, shattering the gloom and fears.

For even in the bleakest hour beauty finds its way
In the delicate waltz of nature's disarray.
The rats, they scamper, seeking solace in the night,
A reminder that even darkness can be light.

And so, upon this desolate shore, where sorrow thrives,
A symphony of contrasts, where sadness and hope connive.
Let the rain wash away the stains of our past,
Embracing the storm, until the shadows recede at last.

For in the depths of despair we discover our might,
And through the darkest nights, we find our inner light.
On this gloomy beach where love and loss reside,
We learn to embrace the darkness, and let our spirit meet the tide.

[TranquillityBase]

It’s too late for me
to be saved by a virgin’s song
lifted into the air
by the sounds of the surf
here below the tide’s boundary
where I wander a path
across the polished debris
of ocean’s leave taking.
I can only shrug at my own goodbye
to a siren’s call
as the sun rises to illuminate
the hours that death overtakes.

[CRNDLSM]

Pike are you just coming up with this stuff every day...? Keep it up!

[dukealien]

Low Tide


Crumbly liver-colored sand
distant pewter surf, tin sky
only liquid thing a water-sun
Brigantine, New Jersey, 1967.

Pan-seared beefsteak
fried in its own marble-fat
garlic salt, pinch of pepper
with diced rutabaga, steamed
excellence remembered
for a day or even two.

Recalled forever–
only liquid thing a water-sun
distant pewter surf, tin sky
crumbly liver-colored sand.

[Pike]

Pike are you just coming up with this stuff every day...?  Keep it up!

I'll try to keep it up. 

[CRNDLSM]

I stared into the sun too long
To see the sand surrounding glow
Rising surf soothes skin on my legs

Love and hate the sun
It's made the summer last so long
I just want to see the sand
It represents the beach which means I glow
On vacations with good times, but the surf
Is so far away,  and I don't have the strength in my legs

To leave my couch. I can make my legs
Move though, forget about the sun
Hear the sound of the surf
Today's the day to get along
And go out and get that glow.
You need that sand!

Grab some extra towels for the sand
You won't need your legs
When you get there,  the idea glows
Now doesn't it. And you need the sun
To get there safely and enjoy yourself.  It's a long
Way to the surf.

Don't be distracted! Channel surf
ing doesn't count, you won't get sand
In your mouth, I knew you'd come along
Now your legs
Are working, acclimated to the sun!
Yes here we go, you're starting to glow!

Traffic will take away that glow
It's normal, it's fine, you're almost to the surf
The sun
Is warm and inviting and so will the sand
Be on your legs
When you're laying down.  The long

Drive is over, you lay out long
Ways, alone with the drowsy glow
Draining you the rest of the way, your legs
Disappear into the rising cycles of surf 
Sinking into the sand
In the sweltering sun

[RiverNotch]

They found more shit in the waters of Boracay
than those of the average toilet, so now they build
a brand new beach along Manila Bay
with what geologists characterize

as the asbestos of the sea, to solve your problems here
is not to address their causes -- crystal meth
becoming, for instance, a viable substitute
for food among the poor -- but to kill

all those who'd otherwise complain, and our seas
with their fish-kills, coral-bleachings, sudden-floodings,
and newfound tendency to brew
super-typhoons, are very much complaining.

[Tiger the Lion]

Modern Love

She's on vacation
sharing pics.

Freckles like popcorn
burst onto her sunlit face,
her spotlit chest

and who wouldn't gobble them?

She's got sand in places
I dare not visit. 

It's not my vacation.

I'm not the one holding the camera.