The Beginning of Our Annual Beach Journeys

“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.

It was such a beautiful day out, the weather was perfect. Temperature was around a good seventy-nine degrees, sunny and with a light breeze rolling in off the waves as the crash along the shore. The sound of laughter, happiness and nature all in one filled the air. People from all walks of life enjoy their holiday in their own way on the beach. Footprints in all sizes, some are small and some are huge, spread over the

The volleyball nets strung tight as a harp. The hammocks swaying loosely in the nice ocean breezy. The dinks flowing and abundant like Niagara falls. People always fing something fun to do at the beach.

Sitting on the beach 3 years later, I let my pale skin burn to a crisp in hope to bring home a tan that my friends will be envious of. A drip of sweat fell down my cheek and I peered out to the massive waves crashing onto the gentle sand. The overcast clouds reflected a gloomy reflection down onto the waves. I watched as the tide pulled on the sand in different directions. The sand, not being able to resist

As soon as we got to the beach I could smell the fresh water and feel the wet sand under my toes. I could hear the sound of waves hitting against each other. As soon as we reached the sandy beach, we changed into our swimsuits, quickly ran to the water and swam our afternoon away. Eventually, Montrose Ave Beach

My toes wiggling in the damp golden sand. The salty air invading my nostrils. Ocean waves are crashing up against the shore and receding back into the deep blue waters. The ultraviolet rays of the sun are heating my pale skin. William and the boys are building a large sandcastle. They cover the gleaming turrets with slimy brown seaweed and pristine white shells. The rolling hills to my right are a dark shade of green, having been healthily watered by the summer showers. Small feathery clouds move steadily through the gleaming blue limitless

As I walk the vast stretch of beach my bare feet are mesmerized by the miniscule grains of tan colored rocks. With each step I feel my doubts and worries drift away as if a spirit came down and relieved me of them. I can reach down with my ever wanting hands and scoop up a mountain of sand and watch it in awe, as if I was standing at the base of Mount Everest, waiting in anticipation. I can feel its rough coarse texture on my warm weathered hands as the sand slips through my fingertips. I can see the various sand castles that the kids have made throughout the day. Most of them are simple with maybe one or two cylindrical towers and a shallow moat to keep out the attackers.

At the time, the tide was low and the beach uninhabited by many. The idea of an adventure was coursing

A condign vacation was in order after I wrapped shooting., so I took the following week off work and headed to East Hampton. A limpid sky hovered over head as Scotty and I drove towards the sea. As we inched closer to our destination the light, crisp air began to taste of salt and the salutary sun elicited a a mutual felicity from us. Soon the ocean entered our ken, waves rolling and crashing, then slithering back into the powerful body. We parked the car and abandoned our footwear at the threshold of the beach. The warm sand caressed my feet, a seagull squawked in the distance. We clamed our spot in the sand and applied sunscreen (I a bit more liberally then she), then took our place amongst the rest of the sun worshippers. Overhead the sun

Although tacky and maybe somewhat crooked, I proudly handed that pillow to my aunt the next time I saw her. When I visit her house, to this day, the pillow still sits on the living room couch. It’s impossible to describe the satisfaction I feel when giving someone something that I created myself. Although there are occasional times where I have to rip apart seams, part of sewing is being able to fix your mistakes and still generate a quality piece. The simple gifts that I was given turned into countless gifts for my family and friends, and each built confidence in me. I have acquired an enjoyable hobby and learned a lot about myself. Sewing has shown me to strive to be successful so I can proudly share my accomplishments and it has taught me to put total effort into my work from start to finish. Also, I have learned to manage money and keep track of my own inventory for craft fairs, flea markets, and special

When a little kid gets a teddy bear, a toy train or a doll from a special time or a special someone, it can become a part of them. Some kids carry a teddy bear or doll until it is falling apart and missing eyes, but no matter what it looks like to others, it’s still beautiful to them. I have things that are important to me, because my Grandfather that passed away gave them to me. These are things that I keep as a memory and no matter how old they get or how old I get, they are always going to be special to me.

Some children received ostentatious things and for lack of a better expression, “grew up too fast”. I, however, had inexpensive toys that I learned to cherish like anything else. Being an only child of a single parent, this is what I had to settle for and I had no issue with it. There were several toys to which I had, though I didn’t play with many of them. There are three specific childhood possessions I had that were very special to me.

My parents and I happily trudged out of our chilled condo room, weighed down by various beach supplies. We made our way to the elevator, slowly but surely exiting the maze we call our condo hallways. As we glided down, floor after floor, we finally reached the parking garage. We stepped out of the elevator feeling a mix of humidity and heat immediately cling to our tan bodies. We exited the garage to find a beautiful scene. Birds were flying overhead as there were sun rays beating down against white, hot sand. We crossed the bridge that held shoes and scattered shells. After we did so, we pressed our feet against the white sand that belonged to Destin, Florida. The sight was even more alluring than I had ever imagined.

Its cold, windy, and sunny all at the same time. The beach stretches for miles seeming endless, until it reaches a tall cliff with waves crashing against it. The sun shines down on the moisture in the air creating a “sparkling” affect to add to the view. In some spots on the coast giant rock formations stick out of the water, creating a question on how they formed there. Sea creatures dot the sand everywhere. Walking the beach with sand between your toes is and not a worry in your mind is one of the best feelings. If you time it right early in the mornings and late in the night low tide takes place and you can find sand dollars and unique shells. Beautiful houses and hotels line the beach all with the same withered look they all strive to have, and balconies on every place to capture the view.

The place that is peaceful in its own ways. It is the place to go to get away from our jobs and everyday duties. It is the place where we can sit and think the best. A place where nothing matters but what is in that little moment. This place is called the beach. A trip to the beach can be successful if you make the right preparations and find activities to do during the day and night.