Category: Beach

Some of these beach haiku were written by random trips to beach.

Most of these are part of a series based on afternoons spent at the beach on Hilton Head Island with my pad out ( a real paper note pad), hoping for words with my iPhone camera handy to add illustration to my thoughts.
I wanted to see if I would be ‘inspired’ by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Some turned out okay.

Some were too forced.

Some were just bad.

Some did involve some or all of those feelings.

As far as it goes, I guess I was inspired by by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Please aware that most of these haiku were NOT WRITTEN on the date in the title – for an explanation of this please see The Series link in the navigation table.

5.1.2025 – changes in our lives

changes in our lives
accidents, happenstances
the slightest pushes

It was the first truly important night of my life.

Despite my aching bones and blistered feet I sensed a possibility of strength, of a mission that drew solace and the chance of success or victory from the fire, from the dog, from my fellow human Fred, the night, the bright moon and stars, even the owl we were hearing intermittently.

This sounds vaguely absurd now but then so many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction, and on the more negative side the girl you met at a gathering you didn’t want to attend who infected your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.

but then so many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction

From True North by Jim Harrison ( Grove/Atlantic, New York, 2004)

So many changes in the direction of our lives come as a result of accidents, happenstances, the slightest pushes in any direction.

Then toss in the forward march of time.

Like the tide that twice a day comes in and sweeps the beach clean and leaves a clean slate wide open for accidents, happenstances or the slightest pushes in any direction.

All blank and wide open for changes that will infect your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.

Maybe this is where Jesus was going when mounted up on that hill side and sermonized saying, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Trouble enough for each day that will infect your life to the extent that the scar tissue will follow you into old age.

3.12.2025 – strive to learn before

strive to learn before
we die what we are running
from, and to, and why

The Shore and the Sea

A single excited lemming started the exodus, crying, “Fire!” and running toward the sea. He may have seen the sunrise through the trees, or waked from a fiery nightmare, or struck his head against a stone, producing stars. Whatever it was, he ran and ran, and as he ran he was joined by others, a mother lemming and her young, a night watch lemming on his way home to bed, and assorted revelers and early risers.

“The world is coming to an end!” they shouted, and as the hurrying hundreds turned into thousands, the reasons for their headlong flight increased by leaps and bounds and hops and skips and jumps.

“The devil has come in a red chariot!” cried an elderly male. “The sun is his torch! The world is on fire!”

“*Tt’s a pleasure jaunt,” squeaked an elderly female.

“A what?” she was asked.

“A treasure hunt!” cried a wild-eyed male who had been up all night. “Full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.”

“It’s a bear!” shouted his daughter. “Go it!”

And there were those among the fleeing thousands who shouted “Goats!” and “Ghosts!” until there were almost as many different alarms as there were fugitives.

One male lemming who had lived alone for many years refused to be drawn into the stampede that swept past his cave like a flood. He saw no flames in the forest, and no devil, or bear, or goat, or ghost. He had long ago decided, since he was a serious scholar, that the caves of ocean bear no gems, but only soggy glub and great gobs of mucky gump. And so he watched the other lemmings leap into the sea and disappear beneath the waves, some crying ‘““We are saved!” and some crying “We are lost!” The scholarly lemming shook his head sorrowfully, tore up what he had written through the years about his species, and started his studies all over again.

MORAL: All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.

As published in Further Fables for Our Time by James Thurber (Hamish Hamilton Ltd, London, 1956).

See more Thurber Drawings at For Muggs and Rex.

3.11.2025 – staring at stoplights

staring at stoplights
looking through the windshield of
car in front of me …

Driving to work in the dark again after the time change.

I found myself stopped at a stoplight and looking at the stoplights through the windshield of the car in front of.

The windshield of the car in front me neatly framed the four, no, five lights counting the left turn lane, that pointed in my direction from straight ahead.

The glass in the windshield made the lights into little starbursts for green when the color changed and the cars started to move.

I live in podunk little town and I drive to a resort town on a barrier island on the Atlantic Ocean.

As I stared at the stoplights, looking through the windshield of the car in front of me I had to wonder.

Four, no, five lanes counting the left turn lane for all the traffic coming on to the island.

Five lanes of traffic.

Five lanes of paved road.

In one direction.

There are five going the other way as well.

Ten lanes of traffic connecting podunk with a dead end barrier island.

It wasn’t so much that there were that many people who drove that many cars that so many lanes were needed but that we all had to be on the island at the same time.

But that’s okay.

We all leave at 5 o’clock too.

And we will need all these lanes to get off the island.

Trying to make sense of this world and I cannot even understand my commute.

In the marathon race of life, I am expected to finish my race even though the folks who won this race finished long ago.

The light was green and I drove through the light, under the green starbursts and on to another day at work.

3.9.2025 – songs that greet sunrise

songs that greet sunrise
rain, twilight – Here I am – sing
what and where they are

Not how many different birds I’ve seen
but how many have seen me,
letting the event go unremarked
except for the quietest sense of malevolence,
dead quiet, then restarting their lives
after fear, not with song, which is reserved
for lovers, but the harsh and quizzical
chatter with which we all get by:
but if she or he passes by and the need
is felt we hear the music that transcends all fear,
and sometimes the simpler songs that greet sunrise,
rain or twilight. Here I am.
They sing what and where they are.

Geo-Bestiary, #34 as published in Jim Harrison: Complete Poems by Jim Harrison, Copper Canyon Press, 2021.

2.8.2025 – candids, stills, portraits

candids, stills, portraits
showing way of life that is
treasured, fast fading

Adapted from the line, “Moutoussamy-Ashe’s series of monochrome images include candids of weddings, stills of a church gathering and everyday portraits of the island, showing a way of life that is treasured and fast fading.”

In the article, How an outsider captured the intimacy of Gullah Geechee life in 13 portraits by Gloria Oladipo in the Guardian.

As a resident of the low country I love this story and feel for the people who created the culture that who lived on land now in the gun sites of developers who, like Lex Luthor, have an affinity for ‘Beach Front Property.’

The Gullah culture of the low country is certainly “a way of life that is treasured and fast fading.”

As a citizen of the United States of America, I can say, I know how you feel.