Best Ashore Poems
Heart Washed Ashore
“The sun of my reason has set.
My thoughts have set sail and
My heart was washed ashore last night.
Take me to the bottom of the ocean.
There, I will build you a sandcastle.”
I asked you to bring me something from your memories.
You brought me all the stars in the Universe;
You brought me their gleam, their glimmer.
And I, I stood there consumed by their warmth.
In that moment, I realized that you will always love me more.
I waited for the dewdrop to come home;
But you painted for me dark blue skies and thunder.
The clouds brought me to you and I stayed; I stayed
Because there was no part of me that hadn't felt the rain.
In that moment, I realized you were my comfort; my ease.
I stretched out my hand to touch that petal.
And you flooded me with peaches and flowers,
You made me believe in Orange trees and destinies;
I watched our euphoria take over my dreams.
In that moment, I realized that you were my escape.
I let myself fall asleep on your lap and heard our time tick away.
I guessed correctly then, that Time would be our antagonist.
And I must say, she played it quite well.
I couldn’t feel the scent of your laughter anymore.
In that moment, I realized that I had already lost you.
I'm sorry I let my mind strike those words out;
I hadn't realized that they were stories from another world;
I hadn't realized that I was erasing your dream.
I'm sorry I didn't even feel the heat of your fire;
I was so consumed in mine.
Think of happy places, happy people; they said.
But in all my thoughts, I saw myself with you.
You are my happiness. The period I refused to place.
You are the ink-spot that refused to wash off.
Come be my snowfall again; I promise I won’t hurt the flakes.
Our yesterdays were so beautiful. Oh yes, they were!
They've held most of our smiles and best of our memories.
Frightened at the sight of our dreams coming true
I don't want our tomorrows to meet.
So hold my hand one last time and wish me a Good Life.
Let our destinies lay buried under the shade of our Orange Tree.
18 October 2016
Words Drowned In Tears Poetry Contest
Perhaps our Cafe should be,
on an island in the sea.
Somewhere neutral ,fine and free
Where Hate can't come ashore.
Maybe we could close our eyes
turn down the lights and realize
our friendship is the greater prize,
Come in and close the door.
Are your eyes a darker shade
your hair in curls or long of braid
Variety is what God has made,
Sameness is a bore.
suppose your world has skies of green
a purple river in between
Magenta mountains ,
How obscene!
not if I just explore....
The way you see it through your mind,
settle in and take the time
to write a place we all can find,
Where Hate can't come ashore.
Of European descent, from whence they came
Across the borders to settle, re-establishment
Angles, Saxons and Jutes – Anglo-Saxon be known
Conquered lands, such roads have served, that of the Roman Empire
Yet under attack, strong order we lack
Helpless – o’ kingdom cry
As legions left, nations wept
Our production has ceased
O’ Saxons – mercenaries be hired
Will you defend us now?
Picts trouble thee
From ‘worthlessness’, ‘choice nature’ reflect
Anglo warriors now stand abreast
Ruddy remains, Arthur’s battle in vain
Battle of Hastings, charge and maim
A legend’s defeat, as armies retreat to lands afore
O treasured finds, beneath the silt
Fragmented helmet, of skilled design
Corrosion abhor, yet to restore
Tarnished silverware, o’ iron rusts
For much gold lay, retained –unchanged
Grave goods of Sutton Hoo, barrow over thy ship
O’ King be laid?
With objects frayed
Unaware of whetstone wear – we honour thee!
Of features present, of features past
Churches of stone, post-hole home
Tis farming year, with ploughs we break
Prepare thy soil, crops shall thrive
Fatten thy cattle, raise thy calf
Barter thee, present ye half
Commence thy craft, thy potter’s clay
Of antler work and carpentry
Thee be skilled, our peoples free
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Gone Ashore Sonnet
I have sailed on many seas
they have various colours and smell,
but being indoors looking out
it got a bit boring as well.
One can’t stand by a porthole all day,
water stretching wet and endlessly
I knew I was never going to see
green grass again.
From a mountain, I can see the sea
but never go near the bloody thing
I swim in a river when it is hot.
Sea, shrieking gulls and rusty steel,
I prefer the forest and
the valley that has an unblinking eye.
My body washed unbidden on your shore
Tossed by life's waves to be maroon
I shall sail waves desperate never more
As I found love in your sheltered lagoon
I have nothing, no jeweled treasure to share
No bright diamonds, red rubies, precious art
You clothed me in reason, this coat I wear
For my gift, a promise we'll never part
My love humble and eternally free
I give it without my worry or fear
Placed on your heart's altar for you to see
With only this, you keep it well my dear
Life, cast me out from its brigantine deck
A lone survivor from my own shipwreck
9/14/17
Washed ashore, fond memories of old;
ours, as I stand, looking out to sea.
Recollections worth their weight in gold.
Abound, images my mind's eye can see.
Entranced; playfully carefree were we!
Footprints we used to stamp in the sand
as we walked by the shoreline, hand in hand.
What fun we had splashing in the shallows!
Thanks for memories so wondrous and grand.
They sing in my heart like summer swallows!
Date written: 05/09/2020
I can close my eyes,
It's weird how still you are the last thought on mind.
I say, 'you and me'
I say, ' still with you'
It's weird how I carry your name forward each and every passing day
Despite all conflicts
Most precious
I was an emotional high;
'Emotional high,' I said
My words not yours
Something you couldn't get off without experiencing
Whatever love
It's already done and done
Your grand scheme of plans,
Did it all work out,
Most precious?
Were you land?
Were you ground?
Were you earth?
Were you stone?
Were you pillar?
Most precious
When you left love,
It felt like the earth had crumpled from underneath my feet
No footing
No ground
No standing
Nothing to grasp much less hold
Love you were cruel
Most precious
I stood there on nothing
Cry, I cried
Weep, I wept
Thought and contemplated
Scared to death,
Love was I going to fall?
After all most precious you were still precious
Probably still are
Probably will still be
Most precious
Love I realised,
You were the ocean,
And underneath you I drowned unaware.
You were gravity,
And under you I became grounded
Without you, most precious
From under I came
Ashore I arrived
Love, I was lighter even.
I'll Always Remember You From Ashore
I'll forever look out at the sea
And see you waving
And though I like what I see
I could never ride your waves
Like a seal
I could never undress my feelings for you
Because you had ... so many other seals
The ebb and flows
The low tides
It caught me just in time
More than you'll ever know
My heart hurts at the imperfections of life
... and the mysteries of the sea
connie pachecho
2/10/24
I die over and over—
between pages—a ghost
in a world more real than my
own—drowning in ink—
willingly washed ashore—
swelling, bloating breath.
Against my nature of concealment,
I cough out the ink—everywhere—
chaos, carnality, collapse!
onto a canvas I cannot
cower from.
Who else perceives meaning there?
Who else feels the frenzy like fire?
I sail ashore a silent war
Shattered regret all the more
Angst sinks deep down ashore
Isolated like remnants of hatred to the core
Lonesome as a lazy lion in the streets of nothingness
And suddenly…
Sadness sweeps over me solemnly
Hushed sounds of revenge and envy sends vibes of virtuous vanity inside us all
Oceans between us and mountains among us
Rage rips us apart
Engaged in effulgent reveries
And I seek remedy
Shake off the tension from off our bones of all-alone
Imagine a world of woefulness melting into the Kingdom of Bliss
Living life with longevity and lament in mind for some odd reason
End the fear leaning against my every side and angels are on every angle, so watch out for them, for they will protect us with miracles and gifts
Neglect the wretched wolves of the deep unknown and seek the doves of delight
Tranquility will conquer over dangerous waters aflow and blasphemy for show
Weep no more and paint sunny smiles upon our faces of glorious grace
Anger will no longer linger around us and happiness will be our truth-trainer
Really bound to be sailing ashore on rivers and oceans of unremitting desire
although the waves violently swirl
and splash about,
fiercely gnarl
and roar,
their rippling wavelets so gently
woo and caress
the soothing,
soft shore.
We go to one place via another
To do an activity and then leave
If we are allowed to do so
If we are not dead or burnt alive
Or heart stolen by a local gal
We go to this place from afar
Not expecting to be here
Or to do what we must
This is the way it is
For when you're not local
You have to do things
That the locals couldn't do
Like blowing up the tunnels
Full of live enemy soldiers
Have no pity for if we switched
Some of us are from Texas
Others from Maine or Idaho
We have one thing in common
We are in the Army and must fight
This battle and the next
Till we win then return home
For those who remain here
They are never forgotten
This land is now theirs
A home from home
The 6th Division at Mt Mataba
And other unnamed hills
The waters purl like a soft parade,
caressing the crudest of grains ashore,
with no straws nor barricades...
cascades a tribute to the bygone lore
who's song once sung but now no more.
Therein I lie where the wind is low,
and tranquility in all its keep i hold,
bequeath me slow...
as it does into me so it seeps,
words and whispers, forecasting
dreams.
Come…
Like the ray of hope
An oasis amid the mirage
Bring back your rivulets
Inside my desert!
Spoonful of water
Caring tears!
Come…
Like the rainbow
In to the thickening twilight.
Let the smiling moon
Dance on the lips.
Where two eyes-
Singing in joy,
Dazzling vibes
With passionate dreams
Come…
Like the sea waves
Crushing ashore
Roaring midnights into the veins
Like the woman in love
©SriSuvro
Dawn arrives in a dark widow’s shawl.
A hard sea rubs raw
the knuckled bones of the shore.
The first thing a sailor sees as he dreams of arrival
are the white hands. Sometimes the hands
are land marooned seagulls,
sometimes the hands are the open fists of the sea.
When in a stony village by the waves
he disembarks from the tossing dark,
when he clambers over its sea walls
he laughs, but it is not a merry laughter
more a harsh cry of a wild and restless of joy.
The cobbled streets are shedding their scales.
Fish heads are poking through net curtains.
Mackerels swim in world-weary eyes.
Old men leave their cots
shave their whiskers with a clam shell.
Seaweeds hang like dreadlocks from dripping eves.
Bare cold feet roll over paved stones
all is slipping backwards.
A sailor must wash his face with beer
while bailing green water out of his shipwrecked eyes.