The Beauty of T-Street Beach

“The Beach is written in the style of a free verse poem consisting of two stanzas, the first one having nineteen lines and the second having twelve. The lines vary significantly in length and feature a large amount of enjambment which stretches over fur lines in some cases. The mood and atmosphere of the poem is extremely relaxed and promotes the reader to feel nostalgic about the last time they themselves visited the beach.

The beach is still. What once was golden with colour and joy, now lies dull colourless and blind. Waves crashing onto the moiled sand as the taste of sand over wheals my mouth. Not a body to be seen across the vast graveyard, the colour of grey drags in the air caving in on my every breath. While the only source of light comes from the moons reflection on the water. Playground swings sway hauntingly alone, not a bike or a skateboard anywhere nor a crack of laughter or a pep of moan. The smell of Fish and Chips has disappeared and so has the sight of crowds cheering the skateboards on. The sound of the ocean makes the atmosphere feel abandoned, dark, alarming but relaxed. Seaweed heads and shells lay undisturbed among the sand

A gloomy day at the beach with the loud, soothing and relaxing sound effects of the waves coming together splashing and washing off all the garbage onto the sand and shorelines that comes from the land through various ways into the ocean. There is also the loud blasting and malodorous odor of the monster tractors scooping piles of garbage which was washed off by the waves or rushed through the riverbed going directly to the ocean causing floods and deaths. At the same time, a flock of seabirds flying above all trying to survive from all contamination of garbage, while the monster tractors continuing to scoop up and the soothing waves continue.

The wonderfully poetic language assists in the seamless transition from meadow to ocean: the rolling grass hills are likened the boiling waves (heated by the sun), and the pebbles are compared with crabs, scuttering away to escape the bike’s wheel. The “boys riding their heat-wave” creates a picture of a surfer, “feet on a narrow plank and hair thrown back”. The narrow plank creates

It is a fabulous place: when the tide is in, a wave-churned basin, creamy with foam, whipped by the combers that roll in from the whistling buoy on the reef. But when the tide goes out the little water world becomes quiet and lovely. The sea is very clear and the bottom becomes fantastic with hurrying, fighting, feeding, breeding animals”(57)

You look around and all you see is mother nature's finest. The beach is where people go to have fun and that’s why I go to this one special beach, because you get a little of everything there. You get wild life, the ocean, and pure silence. The only thing you can hear is the ocean waves crashing onto the beach, reminds me of Niagara falls. Its breathtaking. And everything is clean. No trash laying around at all. Nothing.

The aroma of the salty ocean breeze dances around me. The ocean splashes onto the million small grains of sand while tickling the feet of the diverse people who travel among it. Music of the waves sing in perfect unison with sound of the natives playing their drums, their beautiful harmonies fill the resort while they wait for generous people with anything to spare. I look around and embrace every small detail, like the small sand crabs that scurry across my newly pedicured toes and the shattered shells that gouge into the bottoms of my feet. I find my way to the brightly colored hammocks filled with people reading the magazines filled with all the fake information about Justin Bieber and his new girlfriend, or the perfectly picked novel just

Subsequent to finding misplaced debris and other pollutants cluttering up the once-beautiful beach after visiting the nearby seashore for the very first time, NAME was hit with the harsh realization that his precious beach was not a healthy place for other critters either big or small. This drastic revelation inspired NAME to clean up some of the mess around the beach, and after noticing the lack of designated areas to dispose of things such as wood, apparel, lose furs, etcetera,

But as the poem continues, it is interrupted by events that are unnaturalistic which shifts the view of the beach. In the poem, a point occurs where the beach is drastically changed both physically and mentally: “You hear the grating roar… But now I only hear / Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar / Retreating, to the breath” (Arnold 9, 24-26) The differences between the “grating roar” and the “withdrawing roar” of the beach is that when water crashes closer towards land, the beach grates against rocks on purpose. But “withdrawing” roars of the beach shows that the beach wants to escape from land, and venture “down the cast edges… and naked shingles of the world”(Arnold 27-28) where no men can interfere. This excerpt further justifies that men have become too overwhelming and warlike to a point where everyone wants to flee from the danger. The “melancholy [and] long[ing]” of the beach shows that this war won’t end in the near future and will gradually continue. Arnold further justifies taking a stand for oneself when stating how the beach moves towards the “naked shingles of the world.” The beach could be viewed as citizens because in the beginning, we are mostly innocent and calm but whenever an event takes place, we just go along with the circumstance, similar to how water flows with each other and never goes off by itself. We follow what society tells us to do and what is safe to do but in the end, people, running from a problem isn’t the best solution and should stand up for what is

Alone, in the distance I notice a colourless, lifeless piece of foam that rocks over the waves, tussling to stay afloat. It is wanting attention, it is battling to get noticed by the teenagers that once spent their summer days plunging into the water.Instead, they briskly walk by and get a rapid glimpse of what summer looked like and a reminder of the hot blazing days that are gone.Instead of the groups of teens, the only recognition it gets now is from the birds that

The beach exploded with noise as children ran around, playing whatever game their imaginations' could dream of. Toddlers with shovels and pails were building wonderful sand castles with their parents. Some of the other older kids raced around the beach deciding which one was "it", while chuckling to themselves. The sound of yelling "Mine!" and "FREE!" came from the young volleyball players. Children were laughing and playing as the waves came crashing down upon them. Seagulls, squawking and screeching, waiting for someone to chase after them, or feed them. The sun's heat with mixture of the cool wind made a lovely combination. The warm water covered people's feet as they talked and had their own conversations. The ideal weather was perfect

Here lies the area where the rising blue sea crashes on to a shore surrounded by huge, wave-worn rocks. Where the sun shines through the skies and radiates the skin of inhabitants who are admiring the beauty of nature. The limestone shoreline fights back by pushing the water back out and creating a enormous splash accompanied by the effect of ocean spray. Some people come here to go snorkeling and explore a whole new world underneath the water, while others come to enjoy the scenic views and are accompanied by loved ones to walk down the vast amount of nature trails. However to me, this is a place where I am allowed to ponder and be away from the noisiness of city life. At Blow Rocks Preserve Beach, I walk along the beach and am instanly relieved

The beach represents nature and the skate park, society. In nature, entropy reigns over the ocean currents overcasting disorder and destruction. In contrast, the skate parks railing and pipes give it a sense of structure and guidelines. Despite these differences, both are the cause of Alex’s disorientation. In one shot, a billboard flaunts the phrase “It’s better at the beach”.

The ocean strokes land with calm and reassuring hands, lacing water with sand and lifting seashells in its wake. My heart urges me forward, to walk among the peace, to capture the sweet smell of sea salt. My brain reasons with the rest of my body. Turning sharply from the churning water I force my feet to leave the warm imprint they have grown to love

The sun’s rays glisten across the water as my family and I lie on the golden sands of the beach to relax. Seagulls and other families are scattered around us along the length of the beach. My mom, my sister, and I lie next to each other, listening to the waves crashing against the ocean bank.