Bracklesham Bay

Horses in the water
Tide upon the turn
People having cups of tea
October sunshine burn

On the shingle, fossil hunters
Carefully turn each stone
Searching for a special thing
To treasure and take home

The sea is lapping gently
Beach full of passers by
Everyone enjoying
A day ‘neath clear blue sky

At Bracklesham the bay
Reaches out around the coast
Somewhere else to wander
In the place we love the most


Sea of Heart

Sun glare on the water
staring out to sea
Caught up in a moment
completely blissfully

Familiar scent of harbour
feint upon the air
Reminds me of my childhood
and all the years spent there

Familiar crunch of shingle
underneath my feet
On a beach in Sussex
here I am complete

The shoreline’s friendly whisper
my essence here in part
The sea is deep within my soul
and also in my heart


Of the trilogy:
Sea of Child (1st October 2015)
Sea of Heart (2nd October 2015)
Sea of Sometime (3 October 2015)


Yellow poppy, Lancing beach
Shingle fauna growing wild
Glorious in the bright sunshine
Spreading out and undefiled

Down beneath the high tide line
Lies a friend I know so well
So good to visit her again
And revel in her rising swell

This is to me perfection here
The beach, the sea and yellow
And all of it so close to home
I am a fortunate fellow


Lancing Beach

Lightest of breeze

Sea in the air

Sounds of children

Playing down there

Green on the shingle

Cabbage White

Occasional bird

In lazy flight

Blue of the sky

Blue of the sea

White wispy clouds

Soft buzzing bee

Shimmering distantly

Worthing pier

Sometimes hazy

Sometimes clear

Moored on horizon

Fishing boats

Whilst nearer in shore

Swimmers float

Out to the east

Brighton’s sprawl

High in the air

A seagull’s call

Perfect now

The weather’s fine

Lancing Beach

In summertime






Lurking fog and drizzle falling, the sea a greyish green

Waves like monstrous ogres rising tossed by winter winds unseen

Alone on dampened shingle, the taste of salt upon my lips

Braced against the ocean’s vigour, gazing out to windward ships

I am the only audience for this winter serenade

A symphony composed for one, perfect and uniquely made

For the sea’s cacophony is splendid, a sound I cherish as my own

It is to me triumphant music, wave cymbal crash and wind song moan

Rhythm dragged across the shingle, drumbeat on the wooden groyne

Turns the staid and older man back to the winsome boy

Enraptured there I listen as the music builds and plays

My heart a-flutter, eyes for tears, a glorious malaise

And as the white surf retreats away, tumultuous applauds

Along with cries ‘Encore! Encore!’ as I hanker after more.



Sometimes I shout at the sea
Not from anger but by way of an echo
To the volume of its majesty
For, as foam topped white horses leap and crash
And the noise of shingle-drag pounds the path of a dangerous shore
A shout is the most appropriate.



Sometimes I whisper at the sea
Not from timidity but also by way of an echo
To the beauty of its serenity
For, as a golden sun-cast glistens on a flat calm
And the silence of lapping gently caresses the path of an ebbing tide
A whisper is my best and all.

©Jemverse (18 May 2014)

Smooth the sand

Smooth the sand ‘neath rain streaked sky

Seagulls on the wing

Soft, whispered from the distant sea

The wind begins to sing

Turn the tide, the ebb once more

Back across the beach

Meet again the shingle

Always well within seareach

Whitecaps now on falling wave

Salt upon the air

Distant sun glare ends the day

The night time waiting there



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