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The Sea
The sea which lies before me as I write,
glows rather than sparkles in the may Sunshine.
It whips against rocks creating clear salty mists upon my paper,
which only works to foreshadow the future of my words.
This sea that reflects the sun and moon alike,
and prickles an imagination with the points of bright stars
that only a painter or a philosopher could decipher.
This body of life, of death, of history, and of future
flows without discrimination into a vast ocean.
The white crests that pummel the beach at my feet are pulling at this glowing miracle;
striving to part the sands and make everlasting impressions.
A rose petal washes from the blue-green surf to my feet.
A red petal of memory or love, or celebration.
The sand comforts this elegant part from the fragrant flower
as if it is the last of its kind.
The glowing shimmering water cleanses the petal to an innocent clean.
To my touch the fragile petal droops, sadder than it was free floating.
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by Chey
The Sea
The sea which lies before me as I write,
glows rather than sparkles in the may Sunshine.
It whips against rocks creating
by Ann Taugher
SEA SHELL
I wander aimlessly along the shore,
My toes play tag with the tide.
Foamy waves chase me back
Then to return once more.
Jetsam
THE WINDS OF SUNSET
The lapping waves
sparkling under the amber sky
calling, like the sirens
singing from the horizons.
The winds,
by Simon Wright
Promenade
On a wet promenade, stray wisps of chestnut hair flying madly in the wind,
She sits hunched on the green-painted
"The Perfect Sea"
To the sea, I'd rather be,
With my love, by the sea.
To walk, to think, to hold hands.
And sit so silent the
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Poetry: A place by the sea
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