Beach. Calamity, fun, friends. But what happens when you find yourself there without any of the previous words? You’re alone surrounded by noise. It’s so loud you can’t even think.
One day when I went to the beach a gaggle of tiny white crabs pinched off the skin at the top of my toes. This of course was because I was a small child, for the skin on those toes of elderly folk are not as desirable for crab shoes.
When I was younger I hated the beach. Sand everywhere…ugh. I wish I could enjoy simple things like the beach. But it’s too fucking hot. I never knew how people could love it so much.
The waves beat around me, sucking me in, deeper, deeper. I float, is it floating though? Is it really floating or am I just sinking farther into the abyss above, but not below me now?
The children laugh and play as their parents sigh; dying, dying, dying. Their lives are slowly passing by and they don’t seem to give a fuck. It’s so nice, to be young, to wander the beach and feel the sand squirm around your toes. So carefree.
The beach is nice and sandy. Lots of people go there. It’s very fun to go to the beach. I have almost drowned in the beach. It can be very scary some times. There are very many creatures that live in the waters at the beach. I love
warm and sandy. i dont want to get sand in my pants though. gross. maybe ill go to a beach of rocks, and just lightly walk to the water. then swim, rocks mean no mud too. i’ve never been on a sandy beach.
Sun and warm and summer time. The best years of my life spent here. My natural home. I want to marry here. It makes me smile and think of nature. And of life. The ocean is always moving, always changing, never constant.
The beach, ah a place of relaxation. The sweet salt air and the salt water fill my senses. The sand squishes between my toes. It’s a place of happiness. The beach, for me, is home. Always.
On the beach was the carcass of a seagull. I usually hate seagulls, but as I watched the flies buzz around its rotting guts I felt sad for it. How did it get there? What was it’s life? Stupid seagulls, I hate those things.
The beach is a place I can go where my worries disappear and be where nothing or knowone can harm me. The sun is there and beats down from above and i get a feeling of warmth when my eyes are closed and everything that matters is gone away.
There’s a strong and sandy oceanic breeze here. The sharp smell stings your face, blows white ash on your hands. You wonder where all the water has come from.
scary and frightening waves rising higher and higher coming to get me strike fear in my heart. i want to go in and experience the magic of the ocean but i am afraid, afraid of what’s lurking around the corner that i cannot see. i am always afraid of that, the unseen.
ONe day I went to the beach and a crab grabbed my bikini bottom and started to run away with them. I had to chase him into the water with no bottoms on while the entire beach watched in horror.
i promised to go with him today. what’s the point in me making useless promises like those? they’ll never let us be together. they’ll never allow it. and the guilt i feel is immense. but when i close my eyes, all i can see is him, laughing and smiling at the place he loves most: the beach.
The beach is amazing. The sounds, the smells, the feeling you get when you first see the ocean coming into view. The sand between your toes as you savor the sweet aroma of salt water. Bliss.
“Isn’t life a beach?” Take it in your own hands to decide whether this statement is pessimistic or optimistic. I say the glass is half full in this situation….
It is sandy here, along the beach. Everything is yellow and watery and dry and beautiful, and everyone is smiling. It could be dangerous, but we choose to believe that everything is fine on the beach of disaster and laughter.
the beach where i am from is full of rocks, not sand. sometimes i stand at the water’s edge here and miss the barnacles from home. california, as much as i may want it to be, is not my home.
the beach is a place that people go to, they go to relax. to get away from their catoitcs lifes and just kick back and enjoy the scenery. knowing that there are much greater things out there. so much water. so much out there and everything is just so beautiful
went to the sand dumes to feel the sun burn
as we fell up into the distance
there was nothing but laughter
excited
and the thrill that Shel was just a prophet of
unforeseen fate
something in the sand eating my feet, taking a look through spectacles at a branching seashore line. each wavering piece of clothing lands in the dunes, and I can’t understand, nor will i ever understand, why she won’t love me.
sandy grains in the atmosphere blow around mom’s fishing tackle. how i love the sky trees birds water land. horses in the hoofprints on the shore. the water is indigo. i am smoking high quality mexican weed and feel as if the sky is eating itself. i wish i knew my father.
I like the beach. The sand gets in everything. Swimming is fun, but jellyfish suck. Salt water does too, but its good for your skin, apparently. And your hair… sandcastles are fun, lighthouses rule, and the stairs inside of them, you see those at the beach.
the beach is a place that has now been slightly corroded. a public opinion, even of something small, can affect the popularity of generally anything. The oil spill has made people afraid of beaches, even though a small portion of area is really affected.
As I sit there, gazing to the shore, I see the beautiful waves wash upon the white, soft sand. As the fresh salt water touches my skin, I get chills going up my body. As I lean back into the sand, my body sinks in, giving me the feeling of connection to the world.
The beach was crowded. The boardwalk littered with hurried, sandaled feet, dropped ice cream cones, gum wrappers, lost strands of tickets from the arcade. John was here somewhere, among this chaos, but I couldn’t find him. I
siphoning the confidence of the white ones that step hesitantly out of their coughing vehicles to study the tan legs touted before their eyes and the sacks of bones stretched out on towels and bronzing to perfection
Cool air coming off the ocean. It reminds of summer and freedom. Childhood care free spirit. Joy.
Beach. Calamity, fun, friends. But what happens when you find yourself there without any of the previous words? You’re alone surrounded by noise. It’s so loud you can’t even think.
One day when I went to the beach a gaggle of tiny white crabs pinched off the skin at the top of my toes. This of course was because I was a small child, for the skin on those toes of elderly folk are not as desirable for crab shoes.
When I was younger I hated the beach. Sand everywhere…ugh. I wish I could enjoy simple things like the beach. But it’s too fucking hot. I never knew how people could love it so much.
what is this beach i don’t know where i am or what i’m doing here god help me get out of this place here no no oh no no!
sun sand waves boards babes pizza frisbee umbrellas footballs tennisballs towels bikinis speedos fried dough babies babies babies sun burn
The beach so full of life, now a wasteland of oil. People stare at the burning sea and shed their last tears.D
The waves beat around me, sucking me in, deeper, deeper. I float, is it floating though? Is it really floating or am I just sinking farther into the abyss above, but not below me now?
The children laugh and play as their parents sigh; dying, dying, dying. Their lives are slowly passing by and they don’t seem to give a fuck. It’s so nice, to be young, to wander the beach and feel the sand squirm around your toes. So carefree.
The beach is nice and sandy. Lots of people go there. It’s very fun to go to the beach. I have almost drowned in the beach. It can be very scary some times. There are very many creatures that live in the waters at the beach. I love
warm and sandy. i dont want to get sand in my pants though. gross. maybe ill go to a beach of rocks, and just lightly walk to the water. then swim, rocks mean no mud too. i’ve never been on a sandy beach.
i’ll sit, calmly. looking out as far as the eye can see.
Sun and warm and summer time. The best years of my life spent here. My natural home. I want to marry here. It makes me smile and think of nature. And of life. The ocean is always moving, always changing, never constant.
The beach, ah a place of relaxation. The sweet salt air and the salt water fill my senses. The sand squishes between my toes. It’s a place of happiness. The beach, for me, is home. Always.
On the beach was the carcass of a seagull. I usually hate seagulls, but as I watched the flies buzz around its rotting guts I felt sad for it. How did it get there? What was it’s life? Stupid seagulls, I hate those things.
a place where all my hopes and dreams will come true. if i try hard enough to accomplish my goals, i will one day make the beach my home.
Joelle Miller Williams.
The beach is a place I can go where my worries disappear and be where nothing or knowone can harm me. The sun is there and beats down from above and i get a feeling of warmth when my eyes are closed and everything that matters is gone away.
There’s a strong and sandy oceanic breeze here. The sharp smell stings your face, blows white ash on your hands. You wonder where all the water has come from.
scary and frightening waves rising higher and higher coming to get me strike fear in my heart. i want to go in and experience the magic of the ocean but i am afraid, afraid of what’s lurking around the corner that i cannot see. i am always afraid of that, the unseen.
ONe day I went to the beach and a crab grabbed my bikini bottom and started to run away with them. I had to chase him into the water with no bottoms on while the entire beach watched in horror.
i promised to go with him today. what’s the point in me making useless promises like those? they’ll never let us be together. they’ll never allow it. and the guilt i feel is immense. but when i close my eyes, all i can see is him, laughing and smiling at the place he loves most: the beach.
The beach is amazing. The sounds, the smells, the feeling you get when you first see the ocean coming into view. The sand between your toes as you savor the sweet aroma of salt water. Bliss.
“Isn’t life a beach?” Take it in your own hands to decide whether this statement is pessimistic or optimistic. I say the glass is half full in this situation….
there’s something about
the silvery glisten
of the moon’s lonely cry
as it floods
across the ripples.
home is where the heart is,
my heart is with
the waves.
It is sandy here, along the beach. Everything is yellow and watery and dry and beautiful, and everyone is smiling. It could be dangerous, but we choose to believe that everything is fine on the beach of disaster and laughter.
the beach where i am from is full of rocks, not sand. sometimes i stand at the water’s edge here and miss the barnacles from home. california, as much as i may want it to be, is not my home.
the sky is blue. the sand is warm. i’m home. i’m planning my next trip in the middle of this one.
Oh, man, last spring was my first time tripping on the beach! Never had more fun with good random people.
the beach is a place that people go to, they go to relax. to get away from their catoitcs lifes and just kick back and enjoy the scenery. knowing that there are much greater things out there. so much water. so much out there and everything is just so beautiful
went to the sand dumes to feel the sun burn
as we fell up into the distance
there was nothing but laughter
excited
and the thrill that Shel was just a prophet of
unforeseen fate
something in the sand eating my feet, taking a look through spectacles at a branching seashore line. each wavering piece of clothing lands in the dunes, and I can’t understand, nor will i ever understand, why she won’t love me.
salty waves, in the water, salty waves of my hair. wind whips. i am at home.
As soon as we got there, the tide came rushing in with so much velocity I couldn’t breathe. What the crap I can’t write this fast.
sandy grains in the atmosphere blow around mom’s fishing tackle. how i love the sky trees birds water land. horses in the hoofprints on the shore. the water is indigo. i am smoking high quality mexican weed and feel as if the sky is eating itself. i wish i knew my father.
I like the beach. The sand gets in everything. Swimming is fun, but jellyfish suck. Salt water does too, but its good for your skin, apparently. And your hair… sandcastles are fun, lighthouses rule, and the stairs inside of them, you see those at the beach.
the beach is a place that has now been slightly corroded. a public opinion, even of something small, can affect the popularity of generally anything. The oil spill has made people afraid of beaches, even though a small portion of area is really affected.
As I sit there, gazing to the shore, I see the beautiful waves wash upon the white, soft sand. As the fresh salt water touches my skin, I get chills going up my body. As I lean back into the sand, my body sinks in, giving me the feeling of connection to the world.
The beach was crowded. The boardwalk littered with hurried, sandaled feet, dropped ice cream cones, gum wrappers, lost strands of tickets from the arcade. John was here somewhere, among this chaos, but I couldn’t find him. I
siphoning the confidence of the white ones that step hesitantly out of their coughing vehicles to study the tan legs touted before their eyes and the sacks of bones stretched out on towels and bronzing to perfection
I have not been to a beach since last summer, and I’m making a point of going to Bradford Beach. It’s the place to be again!