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Songs Of A Beachcomber
http://songsofabeachcomber.blogspot.com
"A Beachcomber is a restless searcher for treasures other men may have lost. The search for truth and beauty must be ceaseless. Poems or songs as they are sometimes called must be lived before they can be composed. Some from college days represent the hopes and ideals of youth. May the thoughts and ideas found along the many and varied shores of life by a Beachcomber bring you joy."
- Added on: May 30th, 2008
- Country: United States
- Language: English
- Author: 1greenthumb
- Listed in: Poetry Poetry & Limericks
- Tags: books poetry Nature poem thoughtful beachcomber
Recent Posts
Non Omnis Moriar (1937)
(Translation from Horace)(I shall not die entirely)Cleaving clinging rock I carved a monument,Sky grazing grandeur of the pyramid it humbles.Gnawing rains, nor wearing winds, nor centuriesDeath's legions plodding endlessly could crumble. Death shall ...
Trout Stream
Tumbling waters boulder broke Pause where a willow dips, Laving her leafy tips. Rushing current's splashing stroke Swirls in a symphony, Glides o'er a fallen tree, Wearied waters torrent tried Rest in the shadows cool, Ripple the lillied pool. Rolli...
The Rape Of The River
Lucid, on gravel bedThe river fledGnawing her rooted shore.Snags formed a fishing groundWhere trout abound,Haunting the river floor.Cities her sides infectHer course deflect,Harness, enslave her, rapedPolluted, sewage swill;Untainted tillBeauty her b...
Dreams And Reality
Dreamers dwell in distant realmsUnmindful of the tangled trails that test their conquerors.Actors grasp the lurching helmsOf present deeds, and careful cruise where rash adventuresWere lost.Some imagine martyr's crowns;They picture death with torture...
Beachcomber
(About my canoe, but knowing that I have been called the Beachcomber helps to understand this one)Her battered bow attests a ceaseless search,Each rapids run or portaged roundThrough tunnels carved of conifers and birchTill evening's campsite could b...
Train Whistles
Each time at a crossingTrain whistles intoneTheir song with a feelingSo strangely their own.From deep in the distanceLow moaning is heard;The tone is entrancing,Somehow I am stirred.Again it is softer,Night hushes the sound,Till mellowed in shadowsMy...
