An idyllic calm sets the morning scene at Monkstone Bay,
awakening begins the movement with rushing high tides
of spume, in waves of silty supplanted sand,
screaming seagulls echo against curved rocky outcrops
pathway to the beach is located from the gated farm,
that descends down the winding steps, brushing aside
overhanging branches that block the path downward.
Speechless, soundless air tainted and battered
by natures noises through slapping of a receding
tide on a ravaged rippled rock formation
surrounding a veiled image of an amphitheater
exposing cracks, crevices, and fissures.
The golden sands sweep against the ocean bed
betraying becalmed fishermen and fish alike
into constricting confusion of contested waters
a coastal path, private beach where seagulls reign
setting beautiful scenes, treasures, and wildlife,
portraying its vision of peace and serenity
at Pembrokeshire's Monkstone Bay.
(This beach is in Pembrokeshire, South Wales)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem