Sunday, June 12, 2011

Greystones beach in November

After the rain,
the speckled glint of shimmering sand
is now muddy brown.
Like a blind, closed tight on the warmth of summer,
the winter beach has shrunken in,
changing the colours of my day
to a darker palette, shades of grey.
The sun shrivelled
pale faced and worn,
as the cold season begins.

Seagulls a beacon
against a slate November sky,
their sound, comfort to a lonely beach.
The steps down to the water, pea green
slimy weed on stone,
bright against an ink-rippled tide.

Seaweed colours bleed into my mind
while textures playfully mingle.
Salt air stings my nostrils
caresses my lungs with wellness.
Sea sounds carry from the shores of Wales
as I crunch the length of the milk tide.

I look to the horizon and imagine another me
walking a beach somewhere there,
listening to my thoughts
as they channel the sea.
Grateful for the gift of nature,
I look over my shoulder,
my footprints remain
solid, as in a freshly cemented path
their sound, echoes in the shells.


  1. Hello Maire

    I love this poem, it is full of colours, textures, sounds and senses.

    The strange follower, Coco the dog and called LIZZY is Marie from W4all. I haven't posted on my blog in almost 2 years and couldn't get signed in to edit my name.


  2. Hi Marie, I am just about to look for you after your email:)) Thanks for your comment, this was one of the first "proper" poems I wrote. I only started writing in August last year and was big into rhyming, I thought poetry had to rhyme, it has been a great journey so far. Maire x

  3. '..the cold season begins.'...Love that, Maire as we enter winter here now...And this fine poem. was a great start back then, and equally rich for us now. XX

  4. It was the first poem that I personally felt was a "good" poem, it was my coming of age one and I will treasure it:))