92 Beach Poems – Summer’s Special Image

Get ready to feel the sand between your toes and the salty sea breeze in your hair as we dive into the world of beach poems.

There’s something special about the beach – it’s a place of relaxation, rejuvenation, and inspiration. And what better way to capture that feeling than through poetry?

Whether you’re looking for something funny to make you smile or something poignant to touch your heart, beach poems have it all.

So grab your sunscreen and your shades, and let’s explore the magic of the seaside through the power of words in these poems about beaches.

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Best Beach Poems

The best beach poems will transport you to the shore with their vivid imagery and sensory detail. Here are our top picks for best poems about beaches.

1. Dover Beach

       by Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the

French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! You hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago

Heard it on the gean, and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.

2. Hostel Beach, Oneroa

       by Ivan Donn Carswell

The cliff sprang from the sea at end of Hostel Beach,

if the tide was out you’d reach a tiny bay beyond

the cape without wet feet, an easy stroll but too effete

for blood as hot as ours. We watched it at full flood;

A risky place to contemplate the games we planned,

we walked the sand a dozen times, looked up the cliff

and bragged how we would climb it to the top (it was closer

to the village shop where we could buy the local wine).

A modest cliff, perhaps 100 feet in height, a daunting sight,

waiting there confronting us each day. I’d thought about it late

at night when lights were out, it didn’t seem a challenge worth

a dare, I’d climb it on my own unless a taker mad enough to make

The effort worth a pair was volunteered. My plan was bare, climb it

straight with no descent (just too insane), then stroll the mile that

rambled back and bask in fame of bearing wine. So how could I

decline the madness of the time, a dread impulse that shed all care;

Kate had said along the way let’s climb the cliff the tide’s too high

to safely make the sheltered bay. We’d planned to write our poems

there, a cove which might ignite ideas although I hoped she’d share

a creature comfort moreso than a verse and lift me from my dreams.

That others came and climbed with me had settled schemes of

adult games with nubile Kate, alas a fate I’d learned to take.

But Kate, she never made it to the top, we didn’t stop,

we climbed like ants with frenzied need and never noticed that

She’d fallen by the way. She didn’t die and wasn’t hurt and yet she watched

and wrote a verse that saved her passing grade; it was her anticlimax

and our humiliation, she received the jubilation of our writer’s clique

while we had cuts and scrapes and tender knees to show our deeds,

and in some way I knew she’d never need to try to write again.

3. The Beach in August

       by Weldon Kees

The day the fat woman

In the bright blue bathing suit

Walked into the water and died,

I thought about the human

Condition. Pieces of old fruit

Came in and were left by the tide.

What I thought about the human

Condition was this: old fruit

Comes in and is left, and dries

In the sun. Another fat woman

In a dull green bathing suit

Dives into the water and dies.

The pulmotors glisten. It is noon.

We dry and die in the sun

While the seascape arranges old fruit,

Coming in and the tide, glistening

At noon. A woman, moderately stout,

In a nondescript bathing suit,

Swims to a pier. A tall woman

Steps toward the sea. One thinks about the human

Condition. the tide goes in and goes out.

4. A Parable

       by Mathilde Blind

Between the sand hills and the sea

A narrow strip of silver sand,

Whereon a little maid doth stand,

Who picks up shells continually,

Between the sand hills and the sea.

Far as her wondering eyes can reach,

A vastness heaving gray in gray

To the frayed edges of the day

Furls his red standard on the breach

Between the sky-line and the beach.

The waters of the flowing tide

Cast up the sea-pink shells and weed;

She toys with shells, and doth not heed

The ocean, which on every side

Is closing round her vast and wide.

It creeps her way as if in play,

Pink shells at her pink feet to cast;

But now the wild waves hold her fast,

And bear her off and melt away,

A vastness heaving gray in gray.

5. The Little Beach-Bird

       by Richard Henry Dana

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea,

Why takest thou its melancholy voice,

And with that boding cry

Why o’er the waves dost fly?

O, rather, bird, with me

through the fair land rejoice!

Thy flitting form comes ghostly dim and pale,

As driven by a beating storm at sea;

Thy cry is weak and scared,

As if thy mates had shared

The doom of us. Thy wail,—

what doth it bring to me?

Thou call’st along the sand, and haunt’st the surge,

Restless, and sad; as if, in strange accord

With the motion and the roar

Of waves that drive to shore,

One spirit did ye urge—

The Mystery—the Word.

Of thousands, thou, both sepulchre and pall,

Old Ocean! A requiem o’er the dead,

From out thy gloomy cells,

A tale of mourning tells,—

Tells of man’s woe and fall,

His sinless glory fled.

Then turn thee, little bird, and take thy flight

Where the complaining sea shall sadness bring

Thy spirit nevermore.

Come, quit with me the shore,

For gladness and the light,

Where birds of summer sing.

6. Evening, Near the Beach

       by Edward Dowden

Light ebbs from off the Earth; the fields are strange,

Dark, trackless, tenantless; now the mute sky

Resigns itself to Night and Memory,

And no wind will yon sunken clouds derange,

No glory enrapture them; from cot or grange

The rare voice ceases; one long-breathed sigh,

And steeped in summer sleep the world must lie;

All things are acquiescing in the change.

Hush! while the vaulted hollow of the night

Deepens, what voice is this the sea sends forth,

Disconsolate iterance, a passionless moan?

Ah! now the Day is gone, and tyrannous Light,

And the calm presence of fruit-bearing Earth:

Cry, Sea! it is thy hour; thou art alone.

7. The Waves on the Beach-Shore

       by Aunt Effie

Roll on, roll on, you restless waves,

That toss about and roar;

Why do you all run back again

When you have reached the shore?

Roll on, roll on, you noisy waves,

Roll higher up the strand;

How is it that you cannot pass

That line of yellow sand?

Make haste, or else the tide will turn;

Make haste, you noisy sea;

Roll quite across the bank, and then

Far on across the lea.

“We may not dare,” the waves reply:

“That line of yellow sand

Is laid along the shore to bound

The waters and the land;

8. Evening on Calais Beach

       by William Wordsworth

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,

The holy time is quiet as a Nun

Breathless with adoration;

The broad sun is sinking down in its tranquillity;

The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea:

Listen! the mighty Being is awake,

And doth with his eternal motion make 

A sound like thunder—everlastingly.

Dear Child! Dear Girl! That walkest with me here,

If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,

Thy nature is not therefore less divine:

Thou list in Abraham’s bosom all the year;

And worship’s at the Temple’s inner shrine,

God being with thee when we know it not.

9. At Gorman’s Beach

       by Francis Duggan

At Gorman’s Beach there’s never many people

Even on warm Summer days few there ever one does see

A quiet broad beach but hardly an attraction

Though one has to wonder how come this could be?

The strong currents there perhaps makes it dangerous for swimming

Perhaps the word on this has got around

That nearby far safer places to swim in

Than Gorman’s Beach where huge surf waves even at low tide the beach does pound

On Gorman’s Beach a large body of water known as Rutledge Cutting

That is cut off from the sea by the high bank of sand

The stagnant water in it seems quite salty

Due to it’s proximity to the ocean not hard to understand

At Gorman’s Beach no shortage of Arctic waders

Some turnstone and large flocks of sanderling

They arrive there in early September

As some of the first migrants of the southern Spring

At Gorman’s Beach there’s never many people

Not even on the Summer’s nicest day

It is said it is not a safe place to swim in

And far safer beaches a short drive away.

10. Morning Walk Along the Beach

       by Anonymous

Morning walk along the beach

watching moon slip out of reach.

Leaving footprints in the sand

waiting for sunrise to take it’s stand.

Feeling the coolness of the dew

taking in the spectacular view.

Within the clouds the sun burst through.

Magnificent large glowing sphere

casting sunbeams everywhere.

phenomenon of light rays

scatter across the sky.

I feel my mood lift

I let out a sigh.

Dolphins leaping among

the glistening sea.

Birds singing a symphony.

Waves ebbing ever so gently.

Smell of the salty air

quietly I stop and stare.

Clouds a pinkish hue

waves of deep neon blue..

Breathtaking like a

painting in the sky..

Makes me almost

want to cry.

Feel of the morning breeze

softly swaying the palm trees.

Blues, purple and golden sunrise

Inspirational beauty before my eyes…

Warmth of the sunshine

caressing my skin..

Letting me know another beautiful

day will begin..

A wonderful serene day it will be

as I walk along the sea..

With the sun glowing all around me…

Funny Beach Poems

From playful limericks to witty haikus, funny poems about beaches capture the humor and joy of a day in the sun.

1. Yo, Yo, Off to the Nude Beach I Go Bro!

       by Anonymous

Today I go to the nude beach,

Right now I’m taking a ‘detour’.

Keeping my privates out of reach,

Whilst getting sunscreen at this store.

Gonna have some fun in the sun,

Hope no attention I will draw.

Don’t really want to scare no one?

I would not want to break the law.

Have only one more block to go,

Got everything covered just right.

I sure hope nothing slips out bro,

Cuz that old chick might die of fright.

WOW! I made it back finally,

Now I can unleash my monkey!

2. Happy Dog

       by Flying Lemming

I’m a happy dog at the beach

If I had the power of speech

I would tell you all

To throw my ball

I’m a happy dog at the beach

I’m a happy dog at the beach

There are no new tricks you can teach

I’m bouncy and glad

And my tail wags like mad

I’m a happy dog at the beach

I’m a happy dog at the beach

My joy is always in reach

Whatever the talk

It’s the best place to walk

I’m a happy dog at the beach

I’m a happy dog at the beach

As I hear the seagulls screech

I chase and I bark

Long into the dark

I’m a happy dog at the beach

I’m a happy dog at the beach

And I don’t want to start to preach

But if you ask me

The best thing to see

Is a happy dog at the beach

3. Pine Needles Beach

       by Nhine Nguyen Md

Pine needles on grass

spreading like a fresh brown beach:

A beach of needles.

This is our first time

we see this with our own eyes:

The beach with our pines.

It’s so beautiful!

A grove of tall green pine trees

on beach of needles.

On this fall morning

and from our clay tennis court

we found this pine beach.

It’s a pure beauty!

We enjoy our new pine beach

and south-flying geese.

4. On the Winter Beach

       by Suchoon Mo

On the Winter Beach

I walk on the winter beach

from here to there

and beyond where the beach ends

past indifferent sea gulls

over beached kelps

over bleached sea shells

to the sound of crushing waves

to the call of ebbing memories

I walk on the winter beach

I shall go

I must go


beyond where the beach ends

5. Sand Wasn’t the Plan

       by Carl Wayne Jent

On vacation quite a ways back, 1978 the year

my wife and I together, weather was clear

we were in Florida, decided to find a beach

heard of a new place that wasn’t hard to reach.

Rivera Beach was located on the east coast

was quiet, secluded and smaller than most

walked out on the beach, couldn’t hardly take it

everybody was running around completely naked.

Would take a peak then turn my head real fast

never in my life had I seen so much ass

found a place to spread our blanket in the sand

figured today we’d get burnt instead of a tan.

Told the wife, wanted to sneak off and get some

she finally agreed but thought it was dumb

found a place where nobody could see

we snuck around, got behind a palm tree.

She was embarrass but wanted to be on top

I didn’t give a damn, wasn’t going to stop

when we were done, had sand in every crack

it wasn’t funny but we laughed all the way back.

6. Picnic at the Beach

       by M.L. Kiser

Picnic at the beach

a summertime cru d’état

unguarded plate

a hermit crab swipes

a lettuce leaf

7. Acrostic Nudes

       by Steve Majewski

Nudist colonies, nudist beaches

Inherent danger from the leeches

Cool water, cool breezes

Erect nipples, titty freezes

Racing back toward warm sands

Ass full of goose flesh in demand

Cold cock shrunken, approaches her at eye level

Keep on walking you horny old devil

8. Beach Poems

       by Dan Tan

The novelties

of a weekend seaside

Are nothing more

than a scampering squirrel

Up a tree,

and soft blue day and shimmering tide.

A muting of

all my inner worldly quarrels

A sweeping

focus, out over distant bays

And horizons.

The hum of ships at dock

And voice

of a girl screaming in a chalet.


nuisance if you want to clock

Her noise;

she’s Peace, if your heart’s an ocean.

I cease

my wheels beside an open shack

to gaze at

Pulau Ubin’s mossy green in motion.

I’ll be a current

wheeled along in ocean track,

be Serenity’s lover,

and stow my treasures in the Sea.

Though I am

a passing child, the Sea greets me.

The gently

plashing noontide nudges me of her;


joky as the funny gulls if you

paid attention

to their distant shrills and cheer.

I stare out

across the foamy blue,

streaked with

grey like hair of an old woman.

I think,

of calling back our seaside past:

hand to

pocket phone, when the inner human

says, “no,

let her go – she’s a cruise ship’s mast.”

For no

matter my youth, love’s come and gone

like so

many obituaries in a single day.

Like how

ships sail goods over horizon

and how the

currents roll ashore, then turn away.

That wet

patch of sand, my salt in eye,

a brave

blink-away, and grief evaporates – the skies.

9. From ‘W’ Beach

       by Geoffrey Dearmer

The Isle of Imbros, set in turquoise blue,

Lies to the westward; on the eastern side

The purple hills of Asia fade from view,

And rolling battleships at anchor ride.

White flocks of cloud float by, the sunset glows,

And dipping gulls fleck a slow-waking sea,

Where dim steel-shadowed forms with foaming bows

Wind up in the Narrows towards Gallipoli.

No colour breaks this tongue of barren land

Save where a group of huddled tents gleams white;

Before me ugly shapes like spectres stand,

And wooden crosses cleave the waning light.

Now the sky gardeners speed the hurrying day

And sow the plains of night with silver grain;

So shall this transient havoc fade away

And the proud cape be beautiful again.

Laden with figs and olives, or a freight

Of purple grapes, tanned singing men shall row,

Chanting wild songs of how Eternal Fate

Withstood that fierce invasion long ago.

Famous Beach Poems

Celebrate the beauty of the beach with famous poems about beaches that have stood the test of time, from Walt Whitman to Maya Angelou.

1. By the Beach

       by Elsie Cooper

On either hand

A sweep of tawny sand

With gentle curve extending, smooth and wide,

On which bold rocks look down

With dark and sullen frown,

Slopes out to meet the fast incoming tide.

The sunbeams leap

And frolic o’er the deep,

And where their light is most intensely pour’d,

Strike from its surface keen

Flashes of diamond sheen,

Dazzling the eyes that gaze out thitherward.

A cloud or two

Drifts lightly ‘mid the blue;

And, like a faint white blot upon the sky,

Up yonder you can trace

The day moon’s dim drowned face,

Whose light will flood all heaven by-and-by.

2. The Beach

       by Katelyn

The beach is calming

I love the beach and the sand

and being sun-kissed

3. Sail Away

       by Rabindranath Tagore

Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat,

only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of this our

pilgrimage to no country and to no end.

In that shoreless ocean,

at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies,

free as waves, free from all bondage of words.

Is the time not come yet?

Are there works still to do?

Lo, the evening has come down upon the shore

and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests.

Who knows when the chains will be off,

and the boat, like the last glimmer of sunset,

vanish into the night?

4. By the Beach

       by Emily Dickinson

I started early, took my dog,

And visited the sea;

The mermaids in the basement

Came out to look at me.

And frigates in the upper floor

Extended hempen hands,

Presuming me to be a mouse

Aground, upon the sands.

But no man moved me till the tide

Went past my simple shoe,

And past my apron and my belt,

And past my bodice too,

And made as he would eat me up

As wholly as a dew

Upon a dandelion’s sleeve –

And then I started too.

And he – he followed close behind;

I felt his silver heel

Upon my ankle, – then my shoes

Would overflow with pearl.

Until we met the solid town,

No man he seemed to know;

And bowing with a mighty look

At me, the sea withdrew.

5. Song of the Sea

       by Rainer Maria Rilke

Timeless sea breezes,

sea-wind of the night:

you come for no one;

if someone should wake,

he must be prepared

how to survive you.

Timeless sea breezes,

that for aeons have

blown ancient rocks,

you are purest space

coming from afar…

Oh, how a fruit-bearing

fig tree feels your coming

high up in the moonlight.

6. The Beach

       by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The beach has its silent caves,

Deep, quiet, and alone;

Though there be fury on the waves,

Beneath them there is none.

The awful spirits of the deep

Hold their communion there;

And there are those for whom we weep,

The young, the bright, the fair.

Calmly the wearied seamen rest

beneath their own blue sea.

The ocean solitudes are blest,

For there is purity.

The earth has guilt, the earth has care,

Unquiet are its graves;

But peaceful sleep is ever there,

Beneath the dark blue waves.

7. Seal Beach

       by Anonymous

This weathered jewel began as normal shards

of shattered glass, but given enough time

And natural persistence from the seaboards,

that sharp, translucent, brittle crystalline

Material, just so much composite sand, is ground

from broken bottles or even distant shipwrecks

Until sharp edges become smoothed and round.

This cocktail of color, found among the rocks,

Crafted by the patient ocean’s constant dance,

leads this same glass to lose its former luster.

But whilst it loses this, it gains a gloss

of frost slow-formed that shapes a stronger matter,

a shell as tough as nature can command,

and fragile glass becomes as hard as diamond.

8. Sandy Beaches

       by the Shoreline.

Sprinkle, squish between my toes,

The smell of ocean to my nose.

I can feel each grain of sand,

It falls from air into my hand.

The shells I find along the shore,

Picked up by birds that fly and soar.

They sparkle like the ocean’s waves,

And carry sand from all the lakes.

I walk along the tip of the sea,

That’s where my feet leave prints to be.

I walk all the way to the end of the land,

The land that holds this beautiful sand.

9. Foggy Beach

       by Anonymous

Alone, in chilled evening beach,

your smile break fog-bound,

subdue agony of roaring waves,

melts chilled beer. 

Float in enticing breeze,

drenched in drizzling mists,

snared in your desires and touch,

pearl studded memories,

lonesome evening,

longing thrilling lips.

Listening to sea gull call,

splashing water break echoing loneliness,

alone again with fading boat.

Craving, morning Sun never comes,

hug you again, foggy imagination,

each evening in foggy co loured rain,

feel warm of lustful lips,

drunken lonely,

in foggy beach,

twinkling from foggy memory lane.

10. A Sleeper on the Beach

       by Anonymous

Gulls, wheeling overhead,

‘Light on the crags,

The long, hazy day is dead,

And noon drags.

A sleeper lies on the beach

On an arm bent

Out of the waters reach

Smiling content.

A soft wind rustles his hair

On the hot sand.

Does he dream of a cool home, there,

In a strange land?

His eyes shine on the green South

On a spring day:

But the blood trickles from his mouth

In Suvla Bay.

Short Beach Poems

Short poetries about beaches are perfect for capturing a fleeting moment or emotion, from the crash of the waves to the warmth of the sand.

1. On Home Beaches

       by Les Murray

Back, in my fifties, fatter that I was then,

I step on the sand, belch down slight horror to walk

a wincing pit edge, waiting for the pistol shot

laughter. Long greening waves cash themselves, foam change

sliding into Ocean’s pocket. She turns: ridicule looks down,

strappy, with faces averted, or is glare and families.

The great hawk of the beach is outstretched, point to point,

quivering and hunting. Cars are the stuff at its back.

You peer, at this age, but it’s still there, ridicule,

the pistol that kills women, that gets them killed, crippling men

on the towel-spattered sand. Equality is dressed, neatly,

with mouth still shut. Bared body is not equal ever.

Some are smiled to each other. Many surf, swim, play ball:

like that red boy, holding his wet T shirt off his breasts.

2. Beach Sand

       by Raymond A. Foss

Maybe it is the memories

the change of pace that brings us there

the sense of vacation

maybe the smell of the place

the sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grasses

but oh it is the feel of it,

the crunch and slide of it

the feeling of beach sand

so different from dirt, soil, loam

no, not earthy, moist, rich,

but oh so granular and gritty

even when wet,

moveable paper spreading under toes

sliding beneath the soles

smoothing my skin

clearing my mind

unburdening me of the rest

drawing me to the tactile, the feel

of beach sand

3. A Thought on the Sea-Shore

       by John Newton

In every object here I see

Something, O Lord, that leads to thee:

Firm as the rocks thy promise stands,

Thy mercies countless as the sands,

Thy love a sea immensely wide,

Thy grace an ever-flowing tide.

In every object here I see

Something, my heart, that points at thee

Hard as the rocks that bound the strand,

Unfruitful as the barren sand,

Deep and deceitful as the ocean,

And, like the tide, in constant motion.

4. On the Beach in November

       by Edward Cracroft Lefroy

My heart’s Ideal, that somewhere out of sight

Art beautiful and gracious and alone,—

Haply, where blue Saronic waves are blown

On shores that keep some touch of old delight,—

How welcome is thy memory, and how bright,

To one who watches over leagues of stone

These chilly northern waters creep and moan

From weary morning unto weary night.

O Shade-form, lovelier than the living crowd,

So kind to votaries, yet thyself unvowed,

So free to human fancies, fancy-free,

My vagrant thought goes out to thee, to thee,

As wandering lonelier than the Poet’s cloud,

I listen to the wash of this dull sea.

5. Paradise

       by Douglas J. Olson 

Emerald hills and turquoise seas

Endless canvas brushed with trees

That sway so gently in the hue

Of watercolor azure blue

Waves that ripple through my mind

Touch sun-kissed sugar sands of time

As whispered winds so softly sigh

A dreamlike lazy lullaby

6. Ocean Port

       by Kenya James

Feel the warmth from the heat

Feel the sand on your feet

Feel the cool of the breeze

Feel the calm

Hear the peace

Hear the waves hit the shore

Hear the sounds

Of boat motors roar

See the people in the sand

See that kite in his hands

See the way the seagulls fly

Taste the air as it passes by

Taste the salt

Touch the wood of the ocean port

7. Beach Calls Me Away From Math Class

       by Anonymous

I hear loving whispers of the beach

Math class is tritely boring

I ask to go to the bathroom

My surfboard and car whisper my name

I am driving now

Long Beach Poems

Long poems about the beauty of beaches are epic journeys through the sun, surf, and sand, inviting you to lose yourself in their lyrical beauty.

1. Beach Glass

       by Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water’s edge,

turning over concepts

I can’t envision, the honking buoy

serves notice that at any time

the wind may change,

the reef-bell clatters

Its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra

to any note but warning. the ocean,

cumbered by no business more urgent

than keeping open old accounts

that never balanced,

goes on shuffling its millenniums

of quartz, granite, and basalt.

It behaves

Toward the permutations of novelty—

driftwood and shipwreck, last night’s

beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up

residue of plastic—with random

impartiality, playing catch or tag

ot touch-last like a terrier,

turning the same thing over and over,

over and over. for the ocean, nothing

is beneath consideration.

The houses

Of so many mussels and periwinkles

have been abandoned here, it’s hopeless

to know which to salvage. Instead

I keep a lookout for beach glass—

amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase

of Almadén and Gallo, lapis

by way of (no getting around it,

I’m afraid) Phillips’

Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare

translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst

of no known origin.

The process

Goes on forever: they came from sand,

they go back to gravel,

along with treasuries

of Murano, the buttressed

astonishments of Chartres,

which even now are readying

for being turned over and over as gravely

and gradually as an intellect

engaged in the hazardous

redefinition of structures

no one has yet looked at.

2. Kallundborg Church (From the Tent on the Beach)

       by John Greenleaf Whittier

“Build at Kallundborg by the sea

A church as stately as church may be,

And there shalt thou wed my daughter fair,”

Said the Lord of Nesvek to Esbern Snare.

And the Baron laughed. But Esbern said,

“Though I lose my soul, I will Helva wed!”

And off he strode, in his pride of will,

To the Troll who dwelt in Ulshoi hill.

“Build, O Troll, a church for me

At Kallundborg by the mighty sea;

Build it stately, and build it fair,

Build it quickly,” said Esbern Snare.

But the sly Dwarf said, “No work is wrought

By Trolls of the Hills, O man, for naught.

What wilt thou give for thy church so fair?”

“Set thy own price,” quoth Esbern Snare.

“When Kallundborg church is builded well,

Thou must the name of its builder tell,

Or thy heart and thy eyes must be my boon.”

“Build,” said Esbern, “and build it soon.”

By night and by day the Troll wrought on;

He hewed the timbers, he piled the stone;

But day by day, as the walls rose fair,

Darker and sadder grew Esbern Snare.

He listened by night, he watched by day,

He sought and thought, but he dared not pray;

In vain he called on the Elle-maids shy,

And the Neck and the Nis gave no reply.

Of his evil bargain far and wide

A rumor ran through the country-side;

And Helva of Nesvek, young and fair,

Prayed for the soul of Esbern Snare.

And now the church was wellnigh done;

One pillar it lacked, and one alone;

And the grim Troll muttered, “Fool thou art!

To-morrow gives me thy eyes and heart!”

By Kallundborg in black despair,

Through wood and meadow, walked Esbern Snare,

Till, worn and weary, the strong man sank

Under the birches on Ulshoi bank.

At his last day’s work he heard the Troll

Hammer and delve in the quarry’s hole;

Before him the church stood large and fair:

“I have builded my tomb,” said Esbern Snare.

And he closed his eyes the sight to hide,

When he heard a light step at his side:

“O Esbern Snare! a sweet voice said,

“Would I might die now in thy stead!”

With a grasp by love and by fear made strong,

He held her fast, and he held her long;

With the beating heart of a bird afeard,

She hid her face in his flame-red beard.

“O love!” he cried, “let me look to-day

In thine eyes ere mine are plucked away;

Let me hold thee close, let me feel thy heart

Ere mine by the Troll is torn apart!

“I sinned, O Helva, for love of thee!

Pray that the Lord Christ pardon me!”

But fast as she prayed, and faster still,

Hammered the Troll in Ulshoi hill.

He knew, as he wrought, that a loving heart

Was somehow baffling his evil art;

For more than spell of Elf or Troll

Is a maiden’s prayer for her lover’s soul.

And Esbern listened, and caught the sound

Of a Troll-wife singing underground:

“To-morrow comes Fine, father thine:

Lie still and hush thee, baby mine!

“Lie still, my darling! Next sunrise

Thou’lt play with Esbern Snare’s heart and eyes!”

“Ho! ho!” quoth Esbern, “is that your game?

Thanks to the Troll-wife, I know his name!”

The Troll he heard him, and hurried on

To Kallundborg church with the lacking stone.

“Too late, Gaffer Fine!” cried Esbern Snare;

And Troll and pillar vanished in air!

That night the harvesters heard the sound

Of a woman sobbing underground,

And the voice of the Hill-Troll loud with blame

Of the careless singer who told his name.

Of the Troll of the Church they sing the rune

By the Northern Sea in the harvest moon;

And the fishers of Zealand hear him still

Scolding his wife in Ulshoi hill.

And seaward over its groves of birch

Still looks the tower of Kallundborg church

Where, first at its altar, a wedded pair,

Stood Helva of Nesvek and Esbern Snare!

3. The Changeling (From the Tent on the Beach)

       by John Greenleaf Whittier

FOR the fairest maid in Hampton

They needed not to search,

Who saw young Anna favor

Come walking into church,–

Or bringing from the meadows,

At set of harvest-day,

The frolic of the blackbirds,

The sweetness of the hay.

Now the weariest of all mothers,

The saddest two years’ bride,

She scowls in the face of her husband,

And spurns her child aside.

“Rake out the red coals, goodman,–

For there the child shall lie,

Till the black witch comes to fetch her

And both up chimney fly.

“It’s never my own little daughter,

It’s never my own,” she said;

“The witches have stolen my Anna,

And left me an imp instead.

“Oh, fair and sweet was my baby,

Blue eyes, and hair of gold;

But this is ugly and wrinkled,

Cross, and cunning, and old.

“I hate the touch of her fingers,

I hate the feel of her skin;

It’s not the milk from my bosom,

But my blood, that she sucks in.

“My face grows sharp with the torment;

Look! my arms are skin and bone!

Rake open the red coals, goodman,

And the witch shall have her own.

“She’ll come when she hears it crying,

In the shape of an owl or bat,

And she’ll bring us our darling Anna

In place of her screeching brat.”

Then the goodman, Ezra Dalton,

Laid his hand upon her head:

Thy sorrow is great, O woman!

I sorrow with thee,” he said.

“The paths to trouble are many

And never but one sure way

Leads out to the light beyond it:

My poor wife, let us pray.”

Then he said to the great All-Father,

“Thy daughter is weak and blind;

Let her sight come back, and clothe her

Once more in her right mind.

“Lead her out of this evil shadow,

Out of these fancies wild;

Let the holy love of the mother

Turn again to her child.

“Make her lips like the lips of Mary

Kissing her blessed Son;

Let her hands, like the hands of Jesus,

Rest on her little one.

“Comfort the soul of thy handmaid,

Open her prison-door,

And thine shall be all the glory

And praise forevermore.”

Then into the face of its mother

The baby looked up and smiled;

And the cloud of her soul was lifted,

And she knew her little child.

A beam of the slant west sunshine

Made the wan face almost fair,

Lit the blue eyes’ patient wonder

And the rings of pale gold hair.

She kissed it on lip and forehead,

She kissed it on cheek and chink

And she bared her snow-white bosom

To the lips so pale and thin.

Oh, fair on her bridal morning

Was the maid who blushed and smiled,

But fairer to Ezra Dalton

Looked the mother of his child.

With more than a lover’s fondness

He stooped to her worn young face,

And the nursing child and the mother

He folded in one embrace.

“Blessed be God!” he murmured.

“Blessed be God!” she said;

“For I see, who once was blinded,–

I live, who once was dead.

“Now mount and ride, my goodman,

As thou lovest thy own soul!

Woe’s me, if my wicked fancies

Be the death of Goody Cole!”

His horse he saddled and bridled,

And into the night rode he,

Now through the great black woodland,

Now by the white-beached sea.

He rode through the silent clearings,

He came to the ferry wide,

And thrice he called to the boatman

Asleep on the other side.

He set his horse to the river,

He swam to Newbury town,

And he called up Justice Sewall

In his nightcap and his gown.

And the grave and worshipful justice

(Upon whose soul be peace!)

Set his name to the jailer’s warrant

For Goodwife Cole’s release.

Then through the night the hoof-beats

Went sounding like a flail;

And Goody Cole at cockcrow

Came forth from Ipswich jail.

4. The Haunted Beach

       by Mary Darby Robinson

Upon a lonely desart Beach

Where the white foam was scatter’d,

A little shed uprear’d its head

Though lofty Barks were shatter’d.

The Sea-weeds gath’ring near the door,

A sombre path display’d;

And, all around, the deaf’ning roar,

Re-echo’d on the chalky shore,

By the green billows made.

Above, a jutting cliff was seen

Where Sea Birds hover’d, craving;

And all around, the craggs were bound

With weeds–for ever waving.

And here and there, a cavern wide

Its shad’wy jaws display’d;

And near the sands, at ebb of tide,

A shiver’d mast was seen to ride

Where the green billows stray’d.

And often, while the moaning wind

Stole o’er the Summer Ocean;

The moonlight scene, was all serene,

The waters scarce in motion:

Then, while the smoothly slanting sand

The tall cliff wrapp’d in shade,

The Fisherman beheld a band

Of Spectres, gliding hand in hand–

Where the green billows play’d.

And pale their faces were, as snow,

And sullenly they wander’d:

And to the skies with hollow eyes

They look’d as though they ponder’d.

And sometimes, from their hammock shroud,

They dismal howlings made,

And while the blast blew strong and loud

The clear moon mark’d the ghastly croud,

Where the green billows play’d!

And then, above the haunted hut

The Curlews screaming hover’d;

And the low door with furious roar

The frothy breakers cover’d.

For, in the Fisherman’s lone shed

A Murder’d Man was laid,

With ten wide gashes in his head

And deep was made his sandy bed

Where the green billows play’d.

A Shipwreck’d Mariner was he,

Doom’d from his home to sever;

Who swore to be thro’ wind and sea

Firm and undaunted ever!

And when the wave resistless roll’d,

About his arm he made

A packet rich of Spanish gold,

And, like a British sailor, bold,

Plung’d, where the billows play’d!

The Spectre band, his messmates brave

Sunk in the yawning ocean,

While to the mast he lash’d him fast

And brav’d the storm’s commotion.

The winter moon, upon the sand

A silv’ry carpet made,

And mark’d the Sailor reach the land,

And mark’d his murd’rer wash his hand

Where the green billows play’d.

And since that hour the Fisherman

Has toil’d and toil’d in vain!

For all the night, the moony light

Gleams on the specter’d main!

And when the skies are veil’d in gloom,

The Murd’rer’s liquid way

Bounds o’er the deeply yawning tomb,

And flashing fires the sands illume,

Where the green billows play!

Full thirty years his task has been,

Day after day more weary;

For Heav’n design’d, his guilty mind

Should dwell on prospects dreary.

Bound by a strong and mystic chain,

He has not pow’r to stray;

But, destin’d mis’ry to sustain,

He wastes, in Solitude and Pain–

A loathsome life away.

5. Beach Comber

       by Robert William Service

When I have come with happy heart to sixty years and ten,

I’ll buy a boat and sail away upon a summer sea;

And in a little lonely isle that’s far and far from men,

In peace and praise I’ll spend the days the Gods allow to me.

For I am weary of a strife so pitiless and vain;

And in a far and fairy isle, bewilderingly bright,

I’ll learn to know the leap and glow of rapture once again,

And welcome every living dawn with wonder and delight.

And there I’ll build a swan-white house above the singing foam,

With brooding eaves, where joyously rich roses climb and cling;

With crotons in a double row, like wine and honeycomb,

And flame trees dripping golden rain, and palms pavilioning.

And there I’ll let the wind and wave do what they will with me;

And I will dwell unto the end with loveliness and joy;

And drink from out the crystal spring, and eat from off the tree,

As simple as a savage is, as careless as a boy.

For I have come to think that Life’s a lamentable tale,

And all we break our hearts to win is little worth our while;

For fame and fortune in the end are comfortless and stale,

And it is best to dream and rest upon a radiant isle.

So I’ll blot out the bitter years of sufferance and scorn,

And I’ll forget the fear and fret, the poverty and pain;

And in a shy and secret isle I’ll be a man newborn,

And fashion life to heart’s desire, and seek my soul again.

For when I come with happy heart to sixty years and ten,

I fondly hope the best of life will yet remain to me;

And so I’ll burn my foolish books and break my futile pen,

And seek a tranced and tranquil isle, that dreams eternally.

I’ll turn my back on all the world, I’ll bid my friends adieu;

Unto the blink I’ll leave behind what gold I have to give;

And in a jewelled solitude I’ll mould my life anew,

And nestling close to Nature’s heart, I’ll learn at last . . . to live.

6. For Johnny Pole on the Forgotten Beach

       by Anne Sexton

In his tenth July some instinct

taught him to arm the waiting wave,

a giant where its mouth hung open.

He rode on the lip that buoyed him there

and buckled him under. the beach was strung

with children paddling their ages in,

under the glare od noon chipping

its light out. He stood up, anonymous

and straight among them, between

their sand pails and nursery crafts.

The breakers cartwheeled in and over

to puddle their toes and test their perfect

skin. He was my brother, my small

Johnny brother, almost ten. We flopped

down upon a towel to grind the sand

under us and watched the Atlantic sea

move fire, like night sparklers;

and lost our weight in the festival

season. He dreamed, he said, to be

a man designed like a balanced wave…

how someday he would wait, giant

and straight.

Johnny, your dream moves summers

inside my mind.

He was tall and twenty that July,

but there was no balance to help;

only the shells came straight and even.

This was the first beach of assault;

the odor of death hung in the air

like rotting potatoes, the junkyard

of landing craft waited open and rusting.

The bodies were strung out as if they were

still reaching for each other, where they lay

to blacken, to burst through their perfect

skin. And Johnny Pole was one of them.

He gave in like a small wave, a sudden

hole in his belly and the years all gone

where the Pacific noon chipped its light out.

Like a bean bag, outflung, head loose

and anonymous, he lay. Did the sea move fire

for its battle season? Does he lie there

forever, where his rifle waits, giant

and straight?…I think you die again

and live again,

Johnny, each summer that moves inside

my mind.

7. A Day at the Beach

       by Marie Matheny 

The sun and sand go hand in hand.

The sound of constant waves –

There’s a smell of salt in the air.

The ocean is seen through a haze.

The parents bring their children

And watch them play in the sand.

They help them jump the waves

By holding little hands.

The teens exude vitality and youth.

They know they’re coming of age.

They strut and prance and dance around

As if they were on stage.

Lovers strolling hand in hand

Enjoy their day of sun and sand.

They seem to think they’re all alone –

The crowded beach on which they roam.

The old move slow and steady

Thinking it’s no notion.

This could be the last time

They get to see the ocean.

The seagulls glide in circles.

It seems without a care,

But really they are searching

A crumb to catch mid-air.

Scattered on the beach

Are castles made of sand.

Some are small and messy – 

Others big and grand.

If one is lucky,

While looking out to sea

They may spot some dolphins

Swimming gracefully.

A day at the beach is not complete

Without catching the perfect wave

Or gathering shells along the shore –

Souvenirs of a perfect day…

8. Painting A Picture of the Beach

       by Mitchell Browder

I picked up a brush

and 80 bucks worth of paint.

After a few tries, I know

that kind of artist I ain’t.

So I will paint a picture

in your head

with the words

that I write instead.

I’ll start with the sky…

use your imagination

blue, blue like

the first day of summer vacation.

Next is the grass,

tall and green.

The breeze makes it wave

and the sun makes it sheen.

Just beyond the grass

are the sand dunes

and just above that

a seagull looms.

The air is sweet

with the scent of the ocean

and the coconut

in my suntan lotion.

The sun is warm

and bright.

I have to squint to see

that little boy’s kite.

I crest the dune,

and there is the sea.

The waves crash and foam

and softly roar at me.

I wade in; it is quite cold.

Now let’s sign this in the sand

where the waves hit the shore

and sea meets the air and the land.

Now step back and look.

What a wonderful view!

And the canvas can go wherever

because it is in you.

9. On A Walk Along the Beach

       by Jim Yerman

One way, I think, to come to a better understanding of our country…of this land…is to take a walk along the beach…and watch people playing in the sand.

With our first steps onto the sand…one simple thought arises…how before us stretch a sea of people in all colors…shapes and sizes.

This alone makes us smile but we are also pleasantly surprised to watch as an entire circle of life plays out before our eyes.

We see lovers holding hands…we pass a wedding…we sneak a peek…we see another couple…she’s pregnant…their baby’s due within the week.

As our walk continues in the cooling breeze of a Florida Autumn…we see a family with a naked baby…the sand is covering his bottom.

We see families with older children…their sounds drowned out by the oceans roar…running…laughing…jumping…playing catch along the shore.

We see older couples, just like us, walking with elegance and grace…It’s hard to find a person on the beach without a smile on their face.

Here’s a little something, I imagine, every seashore has to teach…people playing on the beach have no labels…they’re just people on the beach!

So, if you want to come to a better understanding of this country…of any country…of any land…take a walk along any beach and watch how people share the sand.

Yes, I imagine that’s exactly the message the seashore means to send…

as we share the sand…

the sun…

the sea together…

how easily we blend.

Beach Poems That Rhyme

Poems about beaches with rhyme are like the ebb and flow of the tides, soothing and musical to the ear.

1. On the Beach at Fontana

       by James Joyce

Wind whines and whines the shingle,

The crazy piers takes groan;

A senile sea numbers each single

Slime silvered stone.

From whining wind and colder

Grey sea I wrap him warm

and touch his trembling fine boned shoulder

And boyish arm.

Around us fear, descending

Darkness of fear above

and in my heart how deep unending

Ache of love!

2. I Saw From the Beach

       by Thomas Moore

I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,

a bark o’er the waters move gloriously on;

I came when the sun o’er that beach was declining,

the bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life’s early promise,

so passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;

each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us,

and leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Oh, who would not welcome that moment’s returning

when passion first waked a new life through his frame,

and his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning,

gave out all its sweets to love’s exquisite flame.

3. On the Dunes

       by Bliss Carman

Here all night on the dunes

In the rocking wind we sleep,

Watched by sentry stars,

Lulled by the drone of the deep.

Till hark, in the chill of the dawn

A field lark wakes and cries,

And over the floor of the sea

We watch the round sun rise.

The world is washed once more

In a tide of purple and gold,

And the heart of the land is filled

With desires and dreams untold

4. Meadow and Beach

       by Amos Russel Wells

I watch the children play beside the beach

Upon an upland meadow lifted high,

The ocean large before them, wave and sky

A boundless panorama wild and free.

The clouds in floating companies agree.

White ships allure the fondly following eye,

And all the glowing prospect far or nigh

Is Nature’s meditative jubilee

And yet the children toss their little ball,

Shouting and rioting in heedless play,

Unmindful of the glory of it all,

Nor thinking once beyond their meadow gay.

Among the buttercups they leap and fall

The ocean wide before them—what care they?

5. Whispering Waves

       by Edel T. Copeland 

Waves come crashing to grey sullen shores.

Powerful and strong, it breathes and roars.

Cascading and caressing each grain of sand,

A warm embrace between sea and land.

High above, a seagull soars high.

Wings of purity it spreads to fly.

Battling high against darkened cloud,

In a wind that blows fiercely, flying graceful and proud.

Beneath, the sand is soft and warm.

Sculpted by nature, it’s weathered the storm.

A passionate battle between calmness and rage,

A new chapter’s beginning; don’t turn the last page.

I listen again to the whispering waves,

Music of nature calming and brave.

Its power unknown, its stillness untamed,

Mysterious and magical, a treasure earth claims.

6. Swoosh, Boom, Crunch, Howl

       by Hayden Myer

The sun rises higher and higher, like a blossoming flower, as the children play…

Beach, Beach, Beach

The zephyr catches my skin like a wide receiver playing football…

Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh

the crashing waves sound like a head-on collision…

Boom, Boom, Boom

The sand crunches under my feet like cereal in my mouth…

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch

The salty water is carried with the wind…

Howl, Howl, Howl

the gulls soar higher than the clouds…

Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh

The child crashes to the ground like a rock slide…

Boom, Boom, Boom

The man walks on shells that feel like needles…

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch

The dog is angered by the birds…

Howl, Howl, Howl

The kite flutters like a plane…

Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh

The afternoon thunder blasts like a cannon…

Boom, Boom, Boom

The child snacks on some chips that sound like glass…

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch

The night has fallen and the coyotes holler like babies…

Howl, Howl, Howl

The sun rises again higher

7. Come to the Beach

       by Lucy Berges

Come to the beach

where the ocean is blue

and the little smooth waves

come running at you

the sand starts tingling

under your toes.

You stand very still

and there the wave goes

we’ll build a castle

near by the sea

Relax and sunbathe

Trust me you’ll see

8. The Sun

       by Ernestine Northover

The sun is a beach ball covered in sand,

warming up this little land.

It’s been kicked into the blue sky,

by a boy on the beach that kicked it too high.

It races you home, wherever you may be,

who will win, you’ll have to wait and see.

Beach Poems For Kids

Beach poems for children are playful and imaginative, capturing the wonder and excitement of a child’s first beach experience.

1. My Garden — Like the Beach

       by Emily Dickinson

My Garden — like the Beach —

Denotes there be — a Sea —

That’s Summer —

Such as These — the Pearls

she fetches — such as me

2. The Beach

       by Robert Graves

Louder than gulls the little children scream

whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;

But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,

laughing the salty water from their mouths–

Heroes of the nursery.

The horny boatman, who has seen whales

And flying fishes, who has sailed as far

As Demerara and the Ivory Coast,

Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales,

That every ocean smells of tar.

3. The Beach

       by Weldon Kees

Squat, unshaven, full of gas,

Joseph Samuels, former clerk

in four large cities, out of work,

waits in the darkened underpass.

In sanctuary, out of reach,

he stares at the fading light outside:

the rain beginning: hears the tide

that drums along the empty beach.

When drops first fell at six o’clock,

the bathers left. the last car’s gone.

Sun’s final rays reflect upon

the streaking rain, the rambling dock.

He takes an object from his coat

and holds it tightly in his hand

(eyes on the stretch of endless sand).

And then, in darkness, cuts his throat.

4. Beach Glass

       by Raymond A. Foss

How do you beach?

Sorry, don’t want to get

Too personal

Just asking, to get a perspective

To put us on the same page.

Do you lay in place

drink in the rays, melt the stress?

Or maybe play – ball, Frisbee, or V-ball?

Not me. I walk, the length of the beach

Too restless to sit

Lost in my own thing

Looking for shells, people,

and beach glass.

Taking in the scene;

Hoping I remember where I left her

on my return.

5. Sand of Beach

       by John B. Tabb

Sterile sister though I be,

Twinborn to the barren Sea,

Yet of all things fruitful we

Wait the end; and presently,

Lo, they are not! then to me

(Children to the nurse’s knee)

Come the billows fresh and free,

Breathing Immortality.

6. The Beach Rolls Up

       by Annette Wynne

The Beach rolls up upon the land

And plays a game along the sand;

But when the children want to play

The sea just laughs and runs away.

7. At the Beach-Side

       by Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was down beside the beach

A wooden spade they gave to me

To dig the sandy shore.

My holes were empty like a cup.

In every hole the sea came up,

Till it could come no more.

8. South Beach

       by Edward Kofi Louis

Beach, each!

Preach the truth,

To reach out!

To help the people,

View the view of the beach;

South Beach.

Peace of the Beach Poems

Find peace and tranquility with beach poems that evoke the serenity of the ocean and the solitude of the shore.

1. While Walking on the Beach

       by Ralph P Quinonez

You look out into the water;

The waves make the most beautiful sound.

A place you find peace and comfort,

Walking hand in hand and looking around.

As you walk toward the water,

Sand coats the bottom of your feet.

The smell of the sea salt drawing you closer,.

The view is so beautiful, oh so sweet.

Almost as if it is calling you.

Sometimes it’s only in your mind.

A place to clear your thoughts

And leave everything very far behind.

You find shells, rocks, and other things.

The warmth is like a kiss from up above.

Looking out into the Gulf Coast

Can only remind you of true love.

As the waves come crashing in,

Time seems to be standing still.

The sun is shining down on you

As you walk the beach at your will.

Paradise you thought you could never reach.

Out in the distance you can see the ships sailing by.

Tears of joy for the scene God has put before you,

As the moment makes you cry. 

Two shadows are together as one,

A sign of great unity.

A great day full of fun

While walking at the beach.

2. A Day at Beach

       by Melissa Roberson

As the ocean waves at me,

And the sand greets the sea,

The fish swim free,

And shells wash up by me.

The sand squishes suddenly,

Between my shoeless toes.

Then the tide flows over them,

And back down it goes.

The salt is on my tongue,

The sea’s song is sung,

The sun is going down,

And so my day at sea is done.

3. A Smooth Beach

       by Chase

Waves continuously wash away footprints,

Like time washes away, leaving you with a clean slate.

A smooth beach.

Waves wash away the good and bad.

Waves and time don’t discriminate.

All encompassing,

Everything returns to the ocean.

It’s just a matter of time

before you’re washed away.

4. Relaxation at Beach

       by Polette

The wind blows

I breathe deeply

I close my eyes so tight

I can barely see light

It feels as if I float on thin air

It’s relaxing, it’s refreshing

It’s peace, it’s nature

It’s as if I can fly

And never die…

5. The Summer

       by Sydney Harris

The saffron-yellow sun grins on top of the beige sand,

and the aquamarine waves wash up onto the seashore.

The towering palm trees sway from side to side

as the gentle wind whistles through the beach.

The field of vivid flowers dance and smile underneath the lime colored grass,

and the flap of a monarch butterfly’s wings soar through the broad meadow.

The coconut and lemon ice cream dripping down my hand

as the sun melts it like ice.

The swimmers sitting on the silver seats and speaking to each other

and watching the surfers surf on their surfboards.

The sun drifting down as it suddenly gets darker and darker… 

6. Relaxing on the Beach (Silent Conversations)

       by Lexi Baylor

Sitting in a hammock,

the wind rocks me to sleep.

The warm sun

wraps me up

and holds me tight.

The salt in the air

fills my nose,

and I can’t help

but love the feeling

of sand between my toes.

The waves roll up on the sandy shore,

singing me to sleep.

I lie lifeless.

Not a care in the world,

not a single peep.

The art of doing nothing

really is something.

7. The Beach Is Soothing for the Soul

       by Callie Pedersen

Falling asleep with the sound of beach waves,

The soothing noise as they crash on the shore,

Fading emptiness when they would engrave.

I still hear it when I open the door.

The freshness and saltiness of the breeze,

It is powerful and very peaceful,

The type of peace that brings me to my knees.

These waves understand me more than people.

Without waves, I float into dark abyss.

Nothing feels right anymore, I’m lonely.

Without all these ocean waves, I would miss.

Even when It’s cold here, I am cozy.

I’m at peace, I finally found meaning.

Waves carry me; they keep me from leaving.

8. Walking Along the Seashore (Haiku)

       by Paul Holmes

Picking up pebbles

or seashells strewn on soft sand

pure relaxation.

9. Peace Is Best Panacea for All Ills

       by Ramesh T A

Far from the madding crowd of the world, I have gone in search of peace in Paradise beach;

Beach is the best place free from pollution with the environment of clean air, beauty and peace;

Peace is the best panacea for all the ills of the fast modern world of civilization;

Civilization has brought all technological advancement for life and work leading to problems!

Problems as a chain reaction are continuing needing research and remedy to be free!

Free life, time and will cannot be expected in the fast world of activities with competition in all;

All want diversion, mental rest and rehabilitation in peaceful places like resorts and so on;

On such places too due to rush and too much crowd, people seek cool and lonely hills or beaches!

Beach like Paradise one is best seems to pacify all to come to normal attitude and mood;

Mood if regained by rejuvenation in wonderful and beautiful Nature, life will be fine;

Fine atmosphere of beach and beauty of sky, sea and sand mingle at horizon is divine;

Divine bliss at the sight of such a nice paradise is wonderful experience in loneliness sure!

Sure paradise beach opens the eye of wisdom to seek solution for all problems in Nature;

Nature is indeed the source and destiny for all living beings on the Earth formed by Nature!

10. Beach on Golden Sand

       by Anonymous

Sitting on a beach on golden sand

blue sky above me

glass of wine in my hand

with the sound of the waves

and palm trees blowing in the wind behind me

such a sight to see

ocean breeze to me is like music in the air

on a day like this it`s so easy to unwind

party time

i think it`s time to drink more wine

as the sun goes down it`s the place to be

folks walking hand in hand

splashing on the edge of the sea

then it`s off to a bar for some seafood company

in paradise it`s the place to be

sometimes i can sit and watch the waves

for hours changing places and shapes all day

a feeling so peaceful and free

doesn’t really matter if you have company

along the coast the sun burns the sand

the smell of beer

lotion on people`s hands

look over there another party on the beach

help yourself man a beer is never outa reach..

Beach Poems at Night

Experience the mystery and magic of the beach at night with poems about the beach at night that explore the stars, the moon, and the shadows on the sand.

1. On the Beach at Night Alone

       by Walt Whitman

On the beach at night alone,

As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,

As I watch the bright stars shining,

I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.

A vast similitude interlocks all,

All spheres, grown, ungrown, small,

Large, suns, moons, planets,

All distances of place however wide,

All distances of time, all inanimate forms,

All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,

All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes,

All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,

All identities that have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe,

All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,

This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d,

And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.

2. Walking Across the Atlantic at Night

       by Billy Collins

I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach

before stepping onto the first wave.

Soon I am walking across the Atlantic

thinking about Spain,

checking for whales, waterspouts.

I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.

Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface.

But for now I try to imagine what

this must look like to the fish below,

the bottoms of my feet appearing, disappearing.

3. Meeting at Night

       by Robert Browning

The grey sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each

4. Along With Youth

       by Ernest Hemingway

A porcupine skin,

Stiff with bad tanning,

It must have ended somewhere.

Stuffed horned owl


Yellow eyed;

Chuck-wills-widow on a biased twig

Sooted with dust.

Piles of old magazines,

Drawers of boy’s letters

And the line of love

They must have ended somewhere.

Yesterday’s Tribune is gone

Along with youth

And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach

The year of the big storm

When the hotel burned down

At Seney, Michigan.

5. The Indian Beach at Night

       by Kunjal Shah

Sprinkled over the blanket cover-

little salt crystals sparkle a smile,

Little romanticists look up the sky,

eyes widen, cheeks rise..

Gullible, oh so gullible,

sweet laughter gently does rise.

Palms and wrists now become sands

as the weight of the wait bury ’em in

Unseen ocean roars a rumble,

in rhythmic silver dance the frills

Golden lights glow inverted arcs

domes of mystical fiction,

The beach at night, calm but not humble

compared to the day’s richly jungle

Walking, struggling lazy legs drag

through the stretched piece rectangle,

The sepia town with the midnight sky

is a separate world of sense, touch and sigh

As mind breathes a calm and fiction weaves-

a highly haven of lucid clear jumble…

6. Walking on the Beach at Night Neath Opal Moonlight

       by Deborahlee

Magnesium clouds blanket the licorice skies

with grey blocking the view of brown green eyes

the night maiden and her silver wolf twin stare

breathing the brine cologne from the ocean air

hunting for dinner and spotting you standing there.

You waltz down the amber tinted coastline

breathing the salted air perfumed with brine

in the darkness on the sand covered dune

under chromium stars and the round opal moon.

If you hear whispers and blood curdling groans

mixed with whistled winds blowing in moans

run with the speed of the spiraling cyclones

as the walking dead rise from saltwater graves

and the shadows dance in the crashing waves

then two ghost sisters climb out from the undertow

trailing you down the beach as footsteps go

to drag you with them into the sea world below

but if you just travel on and not head out

werewolf siblings shall feast on you as you shout.

7. On the Beach at Night

       by Walt Whitman

ON the beach, at night,

Stands a child, with her father,

Watching the east, the autumn sky.

Up through the darkness,

While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,

Lower, sullen and fast, athwart and down the sky,

Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,

Ascends, large and calm, the lord-star Jupiter;

And nigh at hand, only a very little above,

Swim the delicate brothers, the Pleiades.

From the beach, the child, holding the hand of her father,

Those burial-clouds that lower, victorious, soon to devour all,

Watching, silently weeps.

Weep not, child,

Weep not, my darling,

With these kisses let me remove your tears;

The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,

They shall not long possess the sky—shall devour the stars only in apparition:

Jupiter shall emerge—be patient—watch again another night—the Pleiades shall emerge,

They are immortal—all those stars, both silvery and golden, shall

shine out again,

The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again—they endure;

The vast immortal suns, and the long-enduring pensive moons, shall again shine.

Then, dearest child, mournest thou only for Jupiter?

Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

Something there is,

(With my lips soothing thee, adding, I whisper,

I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)

Something there is more immortal even than the stars,

(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)

Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter,   

Longer than sun, or any revolving satellite,

Or the radiant brothers, the Pleiades.

8. Night Beach

       by Jon the Von

Liquid fire,

Lucid sky

mirrored in the sands

of desires.

I stand here – your shore

you approach – as my wave.

Together we’re the magic

of this night beach!

9. Beach Sunset

       by Kareneisenlord Klge

Splitting sea and sky

fiery circle descending

colors merge to night

Beach Poems about Love

From romantic sonnets to heartwarming love letters in verse, romantic beach poems capture the passion and longing of the human heart.

1. The Sensations of Summer

       by Sibel

As I lay on the sand

And look up at the sky

I can see the sun shining like a diamond up high

The whooshing waves wash endlessly upon the shore

These are the sensations of summer that I adore

Nothing could replace this moment

Not anything

I pick myself up

Step in to the Beach

Forget all my thoughts so my mind is free

as all my troubles drift away from me

I go deeper into the rushing water, letting the waves take control

These are the sensations of summer that I adore

2. A Day at the Beach

       by Declan Mcbride

Hot, soft sand under my feet

as I walk briskly into the crowded beach

Sea breeze presses on my bare skin

I start digging a hole and others join in

The wave seems beautiful as it gathers strength

but is crashes down on me like a white wash sumo

I crawl battered and tired from the swell

and paddle to calmer waters to relax and chill

I lie down silently on my board

looking up at the harsh sun

suddenly I’m feeling drowsy and slow

and gently close my eyes

3. The Time at the Beach

       by Brianna Sue Jones

Waves coming in splashing,

splashing, hitting rocks,

moon tilts for high tide, fish popping up,

ready to drink the ocean water

4. Life’s A Beach

       by Patricia Polka

At the beach, life’s different.

Time doesn’t move,

Waves crash the ocean front,

Kissing my feet.

Sea glass glistens in the sun,

The warm air dances around me

Giving a new start to the world.

The sand tingles under my feet

like being tickled by love.

Laying on the beach shore,

Tanning the day away.

The tans may fade,

But memories

Never do.

5. The Beach

       by Amy R. Buzil

It’s a day when the ocean waves whisper to the sun:

‘Warm me up sunshine!’

And they try to throw their rays

right at me,

Painting my white skin

into a golden tan.

The fingertip of the wind

brushs against my left cheek.

The clouds try hard not to move.

I see them

Crawling inch by inch.

I Look down at my toes;

the hot pink nail polish;

sinks into the warm sand

the grains adjust to my movement.


I gaze out into the water

shining like cherry-flavored lip gloss

and diamonds held in a blue blanket.

I lean back into the pink blue purple of the wind,

where it leaves a colorful touch on my arm

and I feel as I could blow away

at any time..

6. The Beach

       by Elliott

In the summer the soft beach calmly slides through the coast,

Softly spread like butter on toast,

The perfect heaven for fun and pleasure,

on a scale which has no measure,

Beautiful calm clear and clean,

the most glorious sight I have ever seen.

7. Sinking into the Beach

       by Veronica Rodriguez

Sea shells running up against the coastlines

Leaving marks and footprints behind.

People surfing having a great time.

Children flying kites with birds and a wonderful breeze.

Looking out as far as you can see,

There like diamonds but they’re going away,

As you see the suns saying goodbye

As it sinks into the beach.

8. I Love the Beach My Way

       by S.Zaynab Kamoonpury

I would have perhaps liked to swim in you O’ sea

only if sharks and octopi didn’t inhabit thee

Perhaps I would’ve swum and dived deeper in glee

if piranhas and sting rays couldn’t attack me!

I would’ve gone far a’ seafaring

with a daredevil like daring

if jellyfish in seas weren’t thriving

I would’ve loved to go scuba-diving

But since at sea such dangers lurk

I shan’t be shark chow in marine murk!

So I’m content with reading, watching aquatic seafaring tales

of olden ships, wrecked vessels, treasure troves and blue whales

But on a sandy beach I can sit all day

The sight of water so refreshing I must say

I’ve a feeling O’ God you like water too

for most of the earth you covered in water true

So in the ebbing tide salt water I’m content just splashing my feet

A rare starfish, crabs and seaweed to meet

Final Thoughts

In conclusion, beach poems capture the essence of summer and the tranquil beauty of the seaside.

They can transport us to a place of peace and serenity, and remind us to slow down and appreciate life’s simple pleasures.

Whether they are funny, famous, short, or long, beach poems offer a unique perspective on the world around us, and invite us to take a break from the hustle and bustle of daily life.

So, next time you find yourself craving the sand, sun, and waves, take a moment to immerse yourself in the world poems on the beach and feel the peace and beauty they bring.

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