Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


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Sand Castles

*Edited

.

A day at the sea
My sister and me
As excited could be
With our buckets and spades.

Down to the water’s edge
Carrying our pails,
Trying not to slop,
Back up the slope.

We pack the sand
As tight as we can.
My turret’s askew
But the best I can do.

And now for the moat
We fill it with water,
Step back to look
And what do we see?

The ocean’s encroached
With the incoming tide,
So to avoid a calamity
We must build a wall with alacrity…

Ha, too late, too late,
It’s breached the castle gate
And we watch the structure
c-o-ll-a-p-s-e into naught…

.

©Denise G Allen, 30 March 2014 06:44


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Whispering Waves

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The tide is out, rocks exposed, unclothed;

White whispering waves catch the first rays of the sun

As they run back and forth on silken sands.

Pools, left behind between rock spaces,

Shine like mirrors’ smooth faces,

Tranquil, serene…

Softly murmuring swells draw errant curls

Like a magnet into the main mass

And the sun slowly climbs, birthing a new day

While the tide gently turns to wash our steps away

As if we’d never been…

.

©Denise G Allen, 18 March 2013 05:29


26 Comments

A Yellow Umbrella

A Yellow Umbrella

a yellow umbrella
bright as a second sun
stands on the sands
giving shade to everyone

a spring day in may
the sea as smooth as glass
we walked hand in hand
‘long the dunes of velvet grass

a yellow umbrella
and a red beach ball
come and join the fun
beach soccer one and all

oh for those carefree days
of innocence and youth
oh for those carefree days
of energy and health

©DGA 08 August 2011 11:01


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The Fisherman

The Fisherman

Every day, no matter the weather,
Wind, sun, cold or rain,
The fisherman would make his way
Down the dunes towards the sea.

If the tide was low, he would fish from the rocks,
Getting his bait from the rock pools first,
Then stand in the spray facing the sea
And cast his line beyond the waves.

When the tide was high, he would lie on the beach,
With his bag stuffed under his head,
And the line hooked round his finger to feel
If a fish had taken the bait.

I saw him catch a fish or three
And carry them, thread on a piece of string,
As he passed me by on his way back home
With a smile on his face and a soft greeting.

Photo: http://www.media.photobucket.com
©DGA