Poem: Ten O’Clock on the Coast


This is something I wrote as a junior in high school. It was during a weekend trip with my parents to the beach before wrapping up the school year. (And I have no idea what “western heat” is supposed to mean. Did I mention I wrote this in high school?)

Rhythmic salty crash.
Feet become human shovels —
Disappearing beneath brackish depths.
Foamy bubbles spread; stretch; wash away.beachballredyellowblue
Rising western heat.
Cascading hurdles fall
And eat ankles.
Red, white, yellow and blue spheres bowl
Until crashed into waves
Of foamy greatness.
Soothing murmurs announce their presence
As they swallow the ruins of castles
And cities
And wash out remains of existence.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s