Transport Yourself to the Beach with Poetry


By Carolyn Coons

Beaches vary geographically: their sand can be fine and white or dark and coarse. Water can be crystal clear and placid or a menacing grey with choppy waves. To make your way to the ocean you might have to cross dunes and tall grasses or scale sea-weathered rocks covered with thick moss. 

Whatever imagery conjures the beach for you, there is a poet out there who has transcribed it to the page, capturing the sights, sounds, and feeling of being by the water. We have compiled some of these poems to enjoy whether you’re enjoying an ocean breeze or just wistful for one. Let us know your favorite wherever you follow us on social media!

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. From "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." From "Beach Glass" by Amy Clampitt

"Dear friend, you were right: the smell of fish and foam/ and algae makes one green smell together. It clears/ my head. It empties me enough to fit down in my own// skin for a while, singleminded as a surfer." From "A Few Lines from Rehoboth Beach" by Fleda Brown

"Dear friend, you were right: the smell of fish and foam/ and algae makes one green smell together. It clears/ my head. It empties me enough to fit down in my own// skin for a while, singleminded as a surfer." From "A Few Lines from Rehoboth Beach" by Fleda Brown

"There,/ sea breezes woo the palm trees/ and peeping coconuts faint/ from holding on too long,/ in sand, asleep;/ daydreaming of me." From "Mi Isla" by Huascar Medina

"There,/ sea breezes woo the palm trees/ and peeping coconuts faint/ from holding on too long,/ in sand, asleep;/ daydreaming of me." From "Mi Isla" by Huascar Medina

"I push my toes beneath the cold, damp sand,/ observe the ocean’s purple evening.// A loggerhead rides up and heaves her bulk/ to dig a hole, deposit future in the dark." From "Beachcomber Nocturne" by Lupita Eyde-Tucker

"I push my toes beneath the cold, damp sand,/ observe the ocean’s purple evening.// A loggerhead rides up and heaves her bulk/ to dig a hole, deposit future in the dark." From "Beachcomber Nocturne" by Lupita Eyde-Tucker

"Sand and scrub Versailled: a turfy view,/ a tailored esplanade of lawn, thick/ walled against the sea's ferocious hue." From "The Beach Motel" by Richard Freis

"Sand and scrub Versailled: a turfy view,/ a tailored esplanade of lawn, thick/ walled against the sea's ferocious hue." From "The Beach Motel" by Richard Freis

"Once I looked inside/ the darkness/ of a shell folded like a pastry,/ and there was a fancy face—// or almost a face—" From "The Hermit Crab" by Mary Oliver

"Once I looked inside/ the darkness/ of a shell folded like a pastry,/ and there was a fancy face—// or almost a face—" From "The Hermit Crab" by Mary Oliver