
Growing up near a beach, I led a child-dylic life of sun/sand/surf
The ocean was my backyard pool; the sand my playground
Near the water’s edge, the consistency of that granular play-doh
Encouraged childhood architectural whimsy.
We built our castles, carrying water to the construction site in Baby Bear-sized buckets
Not too small to hold too little, not too big to burden our slender frames
The structure, once assembled, cried out for ornamentation.
And so the Dribble Castle began to take shape.
Small fingers drip-drip-dripping the moist sand into fabulous pillars, turrets, bridges,
Water scooped into moats suggesting a royal tableau.
We lay in the sand beside these marvels, reveling in the glory of our creations.
Then, as the afternoon wore on and the tide shifted,
We watched the waves break closer and closer, wishing the waters away
But knowing well the fate of our hours of work.
A hard lesson to learn young: the inevitability of impermanence.
Now, my aging self relearns that lesson every day.
Sometimes it saddens me, sometimes it strengthens me.
Trying to keep my footage, standing firm through ebb and flow,
My mental dribble castle reminds me to reach for the richness, seek out the beauty, hold tight the wonder
The impermanence is part of living, but the pillars, turrets, and bridges may always be rebuilt.
Annie
[Note: I wrote this poem weeks before the pandemic changed everything, so I kept putting it aside to discuss the more pressing issues. But as I reread it, I feel its relevance to me right now–at this time.]
A beautiful poem at any time, but especially poignant right now. Thank you for sharing, Annie. Glad you are well and safe.
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Thanks so much, Janine. Hope all is well with you and family—both two-legged and four-legged!
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That’s beautiful, Anne. Thank you.
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Thank you, Freddie. I’ve been thinking of you and hope you’re doing ok in these weird times.
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Hi Annie! Hoping you and the family are well and safe in this crazy surreal time! Xoxo
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We’re all ok, thanks. You stay safe too. Surreal is right, for sure!
Xoxo.
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Hi Annie! We are good here, hoping your family is as well. Missing you and hope we all get through this soon. Thank you, as always for the great posts! Xoxo
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Thank you!!
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Goodness, childhood seems a very , very long time ago. Thanks for reminding me that indeed we all had one.
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This was a happy and uncomplicated time. Alas, I have very few childhood memories.
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Why?
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Sweetness.
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Thank you, donthedoctor!
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Beautiful piece of writing, Annie. Much to be anticipated in the eventual flooding of the castle most, if I remember correctly. A few glorious minutes of sand bridges and towers overlooking sparkling water before the inevitable crumbling!
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Leave it to you, Matthew, to enhance my poem with your lyrical imagery!
FYI: This morning, I was able to access your author’s interview, which was filled with provocative thoughts. I liked it on the interviewer’s site, but when I went to yours, I got the reading “Page not found.”
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Cheers for the heads up Annie. Think that’s it fixed now!
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That’s good! Glad to help.
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Yes, this poem takes on meanings and implications that couldn’t have been anticipated.
Hi Annie. Bye till next time.
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Hi, Neil. Thanks for stopping by. Bye!
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Beautiful Annie. Poignant . I love this poem. Thank you Susie
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Ah, Susie, how very grateful I am for your continuing support! Thank you! Hope you are all doing ok.
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It’s a lovely poem and message Annie. I was just thinking the other day what an innocent world we lived in as children.
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That’s quite a coincidence. Maybe our blogging has placed us on the same wave length! Thank you very much, Joni.
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Annie, those who grow up far from the beach have to find other ways to build sandcastles. I enjoyed your poem. https://judydykstrabrown.com/2015/03/04/sand-castles/
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And I enjoyed yours! Beef or figs, we seem to be kindred spirits, methinks. Unfortunately, I couldn’t access the video.
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Try this one, Annie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxcftjJ39BU
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That is extraordinary! Wrapped around my awe at his creativity and huge talent was a sense of gratitude that his works won’t be washed away by the waves. But as I’m a worrier, I started thinking about earthquakes and fracking. Never mind—it’s wonderful to see his genius. I’d love to visit…but I wouldn’t want to live there. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to enjoy.
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I’d like to see them in person as well. What an amazing dedication to a dream.
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Highly evocative words, Annie. Stay safe and stay well.
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Thanks, Frank. You, too.
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Beautiful poem, Annie. It made me think of happy times watching my grandchildren at the beach doing exactly that!
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Thank you, Fran. I’m glad it made you think of happy times!
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Nice Annie.
Change may come, but the memories are permanent.
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Thanks, Darnell. I appreciate your comment.
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Such a lovely bit of writing. Its funny how the water and the sand will be there forever, but what we do with them disappears so quickly, much like our time on earth.
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Thank you very much, JP. I wanted to end on a positive note, but of course, that’s true. And our mortality has never been thrown at us in quite as dramatic fashion as it has been lately.
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What beautiful,imagery this brings – we all ca relate to your pillars, the things we rebuild after loss. The impermanence of life is learnt as we grow up and from the beginning the abstraction of death still resides in those washed away sand castles waiting to take form from the endless sand and the vast sea.
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Thanks so much, Ilene. As an admirer of your poetic talent, I’m bolstered by your generous comment.
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