Tag Archives: poetry

A poem: A beach love letter.

Rumpled between sands and foot print,

the paper lie with its half in as the remain flaunt with the air.

a peek at the last line open my sluggish heart to curiosity with the safest energy,

I found myself digging at removal.

dusty and rumpled with strokes of emotions and silent pain

this is written decades ago,

a century before the dinosaurs and big bang theory

before the emergence of Adam and Eve.

”If only you knew how my heart becomes yours” it read,

”every tear behind your smile struck me like a chain, tied around my neck” 

print of tears hang on the sheet,

drawing the image of an unexpressed love tired of hiding.

“If only I could tell the three words to you in one sentence…

‘but here in these sands, dear Carolina,

will I bury my written love for you, that nature be the witness of my pain as you step on the edges of my heart”. George.

I dig the sand making a hole, this time it’s a deep one, long as my hand and bury the letter in.

At least, if I can’t help George tell Carolina about his heartache love. I can help him re-bury his letter so the sands can absorb his pain in years to come.

Lo, between the crowdy legs,

is a beach love letter that was never given nor expressed

just between the sands, behind the smiles and around the edges.

Photo credit: @beachlovephotography on IG.

SEA OF DREAMS

A PROSE POEM: SEA OF DREAMS.

There is a sea at the end of my street unknown by parents and guardians.
it’s a sea of dreams accomplished and dreams yet to be fulfilled,
my mother knows I love this place;
“probably because it’s the end of the street and the air there smells fresh and relaxing” she thought.

Behind the Alsons house you would see a foggy palm tree bending towards sunset.
the tree…popular and well known for its background effect in pictures,
the effort it takes is just to go with the direction the tree face, everywhere it turn bend to the sunset and leads to the sea.
it’s not just a sea, it’s the sea of life and freedom, paint with lifestyle and morals

Artefacts speak here.

And magic is not allowed; it’s not me, it’s the rule.

There is a sea at the end of my street where you can clear your head and wash your pain.
A sea of dreams with no fairytale.

Photo credit: @sea_photo_nc
Title: @ampersandprompts
Write up: originally written by me; @busyink_