I miss the ocean

[paskal]

When I get home from work I change into my gym shorts & running shoes & jog 1 mile west until I hit the beach.





I think I'll do it tonight, too.

[sighyoung]

OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo, 5
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears, 10
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, 15
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man—yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter, 20
Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.

[dangerous]

OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo, 5
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears, 10
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, 15
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man—yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter, 20
Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.

Excuse my ignorance-- Keats?

[sighyoung]

OUT of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo, 5
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears, 10
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting, 15
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man—yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter, 20
Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.

Excuse my ignorance-- Keats?

Walt Whitman--the opening lines to "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking," about his childhood memories of living near the ocean on Long Island. It's about learning the significance of death while a child, and gaining the perceptive powers of a poet. It's also about teaching his readers to empower themselves, too.

[docellis]

That was pretty.

Jocephus - you've been to an ocean before, right?

[Jocephus]

That was pretty.

Jocephus - you've been to an ocean before, right?

yea, ive seen the pacific and atlantic

and actually that post i wrote is from "curb"

im indifferent about the ocean...kinda freaks me out

[thrill]

and actually that post i wrote is from "curb"

AHAHA!

The thong.

[clement]

I love it. I'm not a happy man if I don't get to swim in the ocean at least once a year. The wavier the better. I could see myself moving to Sydney someday. The ocean and coasts there are just so amazing. A lot like northern California except the water down under doesn't freeze your ass off.

[Sausage_Gravy]

I LOVE the ocean. It is so beautiful and serene. I was lucky enough to get to swim in the Gulf of Mexico this summer, and my son got to see the ocean for the first time. I would love to live by the ocean.

[Leroy]

I've neer seen the ocean...well, except for once when I was two, and once flying over it in a C-130 on our way to Guatemala.