Posts Tagged ‘sea’


Once upon an April

when the sea

was surging high

she said that nothing happened

but it did,

it did,

it did.

And when the tide withdrew

she lived ever after

remembering the rise

of happily.



© 2014, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(re-posted from 2014)



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I would be the tide

that moves your sea

as waves of you

go breaking through my soul,


and you – the gust of wind

that plays my flute

would hear my drumming

in the ocean’s roll.



(c) 1995, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post from 2015)

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A path leads down to the river,

the river runs down to the sea

where the gulls

and the zephyr that follow

bring naught but a daydream to me.


He rides his steed to the chapel,

he coaxes his lamb to the lee

while the music

and footprints that follow

bring naught but a fancy to me.



(c)  1993, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(A Maeberie series poem, re-posted from 2012)


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Grief does not tip-toe

it comes

on lead feet

leaving deep prints

in the earth

to collect our tears

and send them over-flowing

to the stream

that joins all sorrow

winding to the sea.

And in the walk-about

where we are left to keen

wildflowers bloom around

the weeping willow tree.



©  2018  Betty Hayes Albright


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It rolls in to me

one fresh churned wave

of salt-laden soup

in mussel shell blue


with armor of chiton

in sea-weed sway

and twists of driftwood

on layers of foam


bringing crab legs and agates

in dustings of gold

that buckle and rattle

kaleidoscope stones


and as barnacles yawn

to taste the high tide

it rolls in the next one

for you.



© 1993, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-write of “Beach” from 1993)



Marina Beach in Edmonds, Washington (on Puget Sound).


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When I was ten

all the rides

at Disneyland

could not compare

with that first sight,

that maiden rush

across the sand,

my first kiss

of the sea.



©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post from 2012)

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She would sate his fevered brow

with the coolness

of a gauzy cloud

until it rained

upon the mountains

filling streams

with tall white water

rushing eager to the sea.


And he would lift her

to the shore

and lay her down

on seaweed

where together

they would turn to mist,

and next time that it rained

the sky

would wear a double bow.


(c)  1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright



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