Learn more about other poetry terms

A Fata Morgana mirage loomed hazily, yet intensely off in the distance On a scale of untold magnitude with respect to packing heat So she felt it best to take the path of least resistance
When I die Grind my bones and ash To a fine powder Then dye the powder any colors that will make you smile again And make me art Make me a sculpture A mosaic A color-filled bottle
He was a grain of sand and you were the ocean. You are so much more than he could ever hope to be, and when your tide comes in he will be a distant memory.
I wish to go to the valley of white stones overturn a few with the tip of my shoe browse the sandy shores bordered by sandy sea Endless light bent over expansive quiet This land of sand and stone, of silent reverie
I was privileged to have sedentary on the seashore in seraphic poetic submersion,The ringing sounds from the distant horizon made me entirely lost in my speculation,
Baking, broiling, blindingly bright, blistering sun,The kabob that is my body searing, skeweredOver scorching, sweltering, sizzling sand.Deceptively blue skies devoid of any deliverance,
I am not given much notice.
Goodbye and thank you to the Ocean Thank you for the memories The nights of walking along the beach The waves as they crashed at our feet   Thanks for the breeze blowing wind through our hair
Long rigid legs like chopsticks Riding the seas got seasick Snapping your snout like click click You are a sandpiper, not a sandchick   
Reality why oh why do you bother me I was just fine without you while I lay on the sand My life was good, scratch that grand It was just the sun, the sand, the waves and me
The tired Sun rests On waves and pale sand, as the Moon waits for his turn  
Make it easy.
The sand flows on the side of the glass Quietly and gently on the stand No one knows what it indicates Other than the fact that it represents responsibility
time is like sand it slips right through your fingers. you can hold on  and squeeze as tight as you can but in the end it slips right through your fingers  
time is like sand it slips right through your fingers. you can hold on  and squeeze as tight as you can but in the end it slips right through your fingers  
Who knew the waves could be so cruel? I want to understand Why are the rocks forced to become  layers of fragile sand? They crash, they charge, the World was Ours, Water scatters like it fears
Dearest Wading Girl, I peer at you through my canvas window Watching as you dip your toes into the waters off the sharp Irish coast. You wade through the yearnings of your kin Reaching sun-dried dreams and
A picture is worth a thousand words But what’s worth even more Is what a camera can’t capture
Have you made any sand castles lately- with that absurd, red dust that fills up your shoes? I have stains on my socks from it still, and pictures of you in my room in an album.  
  Death is slow Like a sick flower with bleak petals that no longer grow One by one, the petals begin to fall Unable to avoid the final death call  
I'm living in a castle made of sand.  It looks to be made of some hearty stone,  But I'm good at finding truth.  Sometimes I pluck it out of ears, like a magician's coin.  Truth is a bit more expensive. 
We met under the white gazebo fair, The wind blowing north up the sunlit shore Your eyes, blue ocean and the bright sand, your hair Before me was all I had ever yearned for  
  The water and its depth would scare me as a child I knew the waves could whip me and make me wild I used to think the ocean was hollow like a shell And that the monsters in it were secrets I should never tell
From sandblast windows out I spy a flock of gulls in flight   and I yearn to coast the ocean, on a charter, strong and light.   Sail o'er the deepest trenches With a map of stars at night. 
A grain of dust falls, With no purpose but to fall. What am I to thee?
The sands fall wastefully, Across the charcoal floor, How? I ask, with a harrowed sigh, Might I fill the glass with more?
amorphous grains of quartz piled high, tumbling, rolling together further degrading, microscopic rainbows, tiny magic gems. halite sprinkled in,
He's got the charm of a devil, smile to prove it. She's got a mind full of fate, heart to win it. I've got a life full of time and no one to spend it on.
In your eyes is rain on the dese
I am from croquettas de jamon, From guava and cheese. I am from sandy beaches heated by the bright, burning sun (Beating, glistening, warming my skin, tasting like freedom)
oh, purest of unities:
In the palm of my hand Is a grain of sand  
I'm not afraid of my shadow, Or the satin woven black Of the night sky, Words it lack. I'm a heavy breather, Fantasiser, I believe In the Northern light. But strap my arms Behind my back
    Oct 16   The air is cool A steady stream of water pushing against the shore Taking bits of it with it as it recedes back to its home over and over and over again.
There I sat staring As every color flew by Oceans of madness
BEACHES By: Malaika LeAnne Uding   Nice warm sun beating on my back.
You are my oasis. The sky is blue, blue waters, bright sand, you are the water that turns my desert into a beach, you, shade of the leaves that rewrites trials into isles of paradise,
Those who see the world
Mountains of steelA society forgetting to feelForests of distractions for mankind
I escape this hectic world Full of hate and suffering To find peace and happiness This is my escape I come here near noon
It's likeSandInside your handsEventually it will slip out Know nowI'm with you somehowNo matter where you go It's like sandIn the beachUncountableA number out of reach 
your heart is the altar at which i worship. your kiss is holy wine.  the ocean is our church and the waves are our prayers.   
We won the battle. We fought the fight. We rode in saddles Til' the end of the night.   The blood was spilled. Boys became men. Innocent tears filled. Their dads, they wouldn't see again.
The bare sand bears only the smell of salt Upon its desolate skin Waiting for that high of Lotionous water To breathe life to this
 The king within his castle looked out upon the sky, The dead-still air seemed restless, the sunlight seemed to die. The clouds came marching onward, an army dread and chill; Within his purple chambers, the king kept watching still.    A rippling
Tiny tots laugh and splash as the waves break on sunscreened stomachs. Reckless teenagers try new tricks on their freshly waxed skim boards. Old men in Speedo's walk up and down the shoreline. This, is my Florida.
Sandy beaches Peaceful, content Tickling your feet as you walk along Waves crash building up power Crushing seashells till they are no more than Sand You stoop to retrieve one
why can something so small make craters in our soul? will We ever find it? maybe it was sold with the baggage of Hate carried away by Mistake.
The crash of the waves Upon the shore The smell of the salt Oft described in folklore The feel of the sand Warm and soft underfoot The cry of the seagulls They saw my fresh fruit
The place with the sand and sea is abandoned, Empty. Deserted. Bumpy tracks of vehicles are freshly anew, But no other traces of a once crowded beach left behind.
Among the ebb and flow of the Earth Among the flourishing promise of human life  Among whatever secrets this land may hold beneath my feet True peace lies in the sand
Across the boardwalk Over the dunes On the sand Near the water To the hotel
White Shifty The Sand Allows my toes And foot as a whole To pass and Sink some Inches Down Setting Like the Tangerine sun As it slips away Past the edge
Subscribe to Sand