All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Golden Shore
I clasp grains of ashen sand,
My eyes, gazing upon windswept lands.
I walk, scaling the golden shore.
My body--lifeless--descends through the floor.
I weep, amidst a moving meadow; to my sanity, I implore;
“Wake me, please, from this dream,” as I shudder before a taunting door, “For I have lost the trail, as it seems.
For returning, I have no means”
I wait; And receiving no reply, my mind, taunting, begins to pry;
My cheek rests upon a chilling stone floor;
In the distance, a phantom child cries (sending haunting rhythms unto the skies),
A shadow comes from the darkness, speaking: “A forlorn land, with one lone door. You must choose your course, or your grave, you dig for.”
The child, “Here-Lies,” vanished before my well-worn eyes.
To my reason, I beseech;
“Should I return to the weeping beach?”
I glance once more at this deathly state, and choose to pierce the morbid gate.
I approach, knocking at the abandoned door;
It swings open; my thoughts, decaying from the core.
A beam of air brushes past my face,
From my lips--a sigh of bliss;
I stroll, with tender grace.
Specks of sand swim through my feet,
Warmth descends; A healing sheet.
I see a shape draw near; A beauty that I adore.
Heretofore, my wish was to live no more;
But now, I hold in my arms, my perfect paramour.
And now, I long for the roar of the golden shore.