On An American Beach in Mid-July 2020

American Beach in Mid July …

Beach in July
An American Beach in Mid-July

On An American Beach in Mid-July  2020


When riding crest of wave in field of rocks

when battered by the constant to and fro

our feet are damaged moving us too slow

to escape time bombs tied to hands of clocks.

Yet here we are in sun upon a beach

an ancient sand line wrapped around a lake

to dip our wounds in tide for healing sake

and hope our death is far beyond our reach.

A beach where my children played in the waves

throughout their lives they’ve dug holes in this sand

to splash around the shallows for awhile.

But never thought these dunes could be our graves

we watch our loved ones slip from our own hand

due to a simple want to watch them smile.


For now the definition of “Beach Day

has taken tone of showing great weakness

a day where mind no longer fights bleakness

to smile, to laugh, to pay for right to play.

On beach this day I find a common theme

a large collection of our young adults

too young to self examine any faults

pass joints and bottles as if in a dream.

My children will escape into the waves

of lake but I have fallen into crowd

of drunken teens who need to lose control.

One teen on Tequila wails about how he craves

“a father figure in his life” out loud

into my ears his spittle on my soul.


So now we wait to see sickness arrive

to plow the field, remove the grain from stalk,

to thin the herd or fly away from flock

remove the option for family to thrive.

The consequence for day out in the sun,

a change to definition of picnic,

it seems these moments take there toll too quick,

our smiling on the sand has turned to run.

Our loss is not the fault of teenagers

whose only goal was live before they die

they do not know they will return alone.

The darkness moves too quick to know players

or find some joy before the reasons why

so many minds are gone before they’ve grown.


Each breath on beach a suicidal act

the sickness comes upon you like cat’s feet

or where the morning fog and sun will meet

the stare upon our mirrors time has cracked.

What age is this but Age of Our Disease?

Where trip to beach has scarred my memory

my need to find a beach without a fee

becomes my Mantra on how just to please.

This risk that once would bring a loving sigh

holds possibility to ruin lives

like mine, or put sudden brakes on plan.

When I was a teenager and tried to fly

or tell the time by counting steep rock dives

the only worry then was getting tan.

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Jamie Lee Hamann
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Jamie Lee Hamann

Things have changed over the years. My name is Jamie Lee Hamann and I have a passion for writing short fiction and poetry. I started writing for TCE around 2015 and since then I have finished two collections of poetry "Six Years of Service" and "The Rhyme of the Ancient Middle Class" both available on Amazon and plans for more. I share a weekly poem for TCE every Saturday. I started work on my first novel and I am using TCE to share my progress as I go. I share new excerpts of this work every weekend. A Science Fiction novel that I hope is enjoyable to read. I currently live in Lemmon Valley NV with my family. I am excited to share my poetry and my writing. If you desire to find my other work on the internet feel free to stop by my website simplepoetics.weebly.com. The website offers articles on poetry, poems, and links to all my other writing.

3 thoughts on “On An American Beach in Mid-July 2020

  • July 27, 2020 at 11:34 AM

    Thank you for the memories of my teenage beach days. Now I walk on Daytona Beach where the sand is packed and doesn’t sink in and enjoy the cooling ocean breezes.

  • July 31, 2020 at 10:22 PM

    Bring back many memories of Santa Cruz beach. When we were teenagers, my friend Sheri and I would sail over the pass from San Jose in her little VW Bug to spend the day on the Boardwalk and beach. We were both slender, tanned, had long auburn hair, and cute in our bikinis – got a lot of whistles and followers! Ohhh – those were the days!

    Great post, Jamie.


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