POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


July 13thLighthouses are beacons that offer a sense of security to wayward seafarers by giving direction and lighting the way. They steer you clear of the rocks and other hidden obstacles throughout your travels. Write a lighthouse poem. Or, think beyond a brick and mortar structure and write of a person who performs the task as your personal lighthouse.



July 12 – Starry, Starry Night

July 11 – Lakes, Oceans, Waterways

July 10 – Seagulls (Triolet)

July 9 – Boats

July 8 – Seaweed/Kelp

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100 thoughts on “LIFE IS A BEACH – LIGHTHOUSE

  1. This is a poem that I wrote several months ago…

    The Anchor of My Soul (an Ovillejo)

    Pinnacle of rock, touching the clouds,
    Standing strong and proud,
    Like, on rocky, storm shoal,
    The Anchor of my soul.
    To those who wander giving light,
    Savior in the night;
    He is the way, the truth, the light,
    Keeping me from evil in His hand,
    Anchoring my soul to firm land:
    Standing strong and proud, the Anchor of my soul; Savior in the night.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  2. William Preston on said:


    Blink. Sweep
    across the sea;
    save us all from the shoals
    that hide in mesmerizing fog.
    Sweep. Blink.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  3. William Preston on said:


    no lantern left
    to penetrate the night,
    yet its shaft warns of dangerous

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  4. William Preston on said:


    I walked along the knobby wall,
    around the shaft that still stood tall
    although its lens was shut and still,
    a beacon now beneath a pall.

    I looked aloft and spied the sill
    where keepers used to pause and fill
    the old oil lamp that once had shone
    to warn unwary from all ill.

    I looked away and stood, alone,
    beside the old foundation stone;
    below, the sea still ground away,
    reclaiming yet another zone.

    I felt a sinking, deep dismay:
    the ocean yet will have its say.
    This lighthouse, once a guide to all,
    will be a rock riprap one day.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

    • DebiSwim on said:

      I had to look up riprap but when I did the full sadness of this poem hit me, yet it hints of a kind of fulfillment.

    • Marjory MT on said:

      I like the fact that while nor ‘manned’, many lighthouse still send out computer manned beams of warning.

    • janeshlensky on said:

      a beautiful plaintive poem with such simple but poignant phrasing (the ocean yet will have its say…). Liked the others as well, Bill, for you are a storehouse of good poeming.

    • I agree!! Storehouse indeed…I so enjoy that you brought us the keeper’s perspective…I thought about that, too…there was a great special on MPBN recently about lighthouses and their keepers.

      This is excellent, William, and after studying further I like what you did with the rhyme scheme…is this a form?

  5. Beachy Head Lighthouse

    We sat on a bench that hot July day,
    Sea breeze rippling curls through our hair,
    And we watched the waves from France
    Kissing the red and white lighthouse.

    ~ ~ ~

    An Epitaph for a Lighthouse

    Long is the memory
    of your light sharpened flash, a lash
    of a fishwife’s voice, you were.

    You kept them in line,
    your glare kept them at bay,
    a stare urged their journeys beyond

    roughened rocks, but your voice
    is faint now, clawed raw with your age,
    and we’re swallowed by night’s silken fogs.

    ~ ~ ~

    (c) MB

  6. Willyam Preston on said:


    On a lighthouse that stood on the shore
    perched a bird that was weary and sore;
    it had flown the Pacific
    because a terrific
    typhoon had been blowing full bore.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

    • Marie Elena on said:

      😀 !


      The quality and quantity of poems you pump out daily astounds me. I sure hope you are keeping all your work together and organizing it somehow. You wouldn’t want to lose a single piece.

      What a joy to have you with us!!

      • William Preston on said:

        Thank you. I do keep the work together, but my organization is rudimentary. I appreciate the forum that you and Walt offer, and well as Robert Brewer’s; they inspire me, as do the poems posted by so many skilled poets.

    • Marjory MT on said:

      I can hear that poor bird say “Where am I?”

      • William Preston on said:

        Some birds seem to look that way anyway. Thrushes, for example, mainly seem to have a pop-eyed look, in my mind.

    • janeshlensky on said:

      Reminds me of the book, The Big Year, about birding. The movie doesn’t do it justice.

      • William Preston on said:

        Thanks, Jane. I’ll have to look that up. By the way, if you love birding, I’d recommend Ogburn’s The Adventure of Birds.

  7. Pingback: Two Poems for a Lighthouse | The Chalk Hills Journal

  8. Marie Elena on said:


    A lighthouse glows from ‘cross a common lake,
    Petitioning in interceding prayer
    For one who thrashes fierce in tempest’s wake,
    Endeavoring to gasp a breath of air.

    While silently, still waters seek repose,
    uneven tides expose their highs and lows.

    © Copyright – Marie Elena Good – 2012

    Sorry for relying on an older one once again. July is so, so busy, and unfortunately I am not one who can pump out a decent poem in a short amount of time. I wrote “Uneven Tides” last year for our dear Walt when he was struggling greatly.

    I must say again that I love Erin’s “Anchor of My Soul.” Our Light in darkness, indeed.


    Adrift on a choppy lake,
    lost and unsure , uncharted
    are the waters just ahead.
    I sit in silence, not
    knowing which star to
    follow to bring me back
    to a safe and solid shore.
    In the distance it appears.
    A blink; a blip on my radar,
    A light offering a hand to draw
    my tired vessel to the
    harbor of humanity. The light
    travels across the lake and
    I take comfort and solace there.
    A beam, a beacon, the warmth
    of a thousand suns brings me home.
    In the murky night; a lighthouse shines.

    • DebiSwim on said:

      I don’t know the educated way to speak of poetry’s assonance and meter, penta this and that (yet) so I can’t tell you what you already know about the mechanics of your poem but it is beautiful. It touches with its common theme of fear and life decisions. I like this very much.

    • Marjory MT on said:

      “In the murky night; a lighthouse shines.”
      That is so beautifully full of promise. 🙂

    • Those last two lines are such a perfect close. 🙂


    A lighthouse stands,
    sentinel to the Great Erie.
    A beacon bright, glowing at night,
    to the wayfarers adrift on the cold chop.
    It signals distance.
    It offers direction.
    It provides solace.

    Shining out across the mighty waters:
    the Niagara River to the North
    where it spills in a cascade of thunder,
    to Fort Erie on the Canadian side,
    over the vastness, a dim glimmer
    to the West toward Toledo,
    diametrically opposed, bookends.

    Sailboats swing by to visit,
    and raise a friendly hand,
    half in greeting, half in stoic salute,
    totally in agreement that the beauty
    of her silhouette against the declining horizon
    expresses her import to all who navigate
    in her harbor. All is well. Shine on Buffalo Beacon.

    This poem first appeared at Marie Elena’s and my original collaboration at Across the Lake, Eerily (www.aleerily.wordpress.com)


    From far away
    your beacon bright
    steers me through
    the darkest night.
    From birth to death
    you’ll always be
    the guiding light
    surrounding me.
    Though you are there
    and I am here
    by your wise truths
    I always steer.
    So grateful I
    Will always be
    That you’re the Mom
    God gave to me.

  12. DebiSwim on said:

    Linda, we were on the same wavelength today.


    Did you know you are a lighthouse
    standing near the shore
    silently warning there be storms,
    dangers, hidden shoals and reefs
    as those you lovingly oversee
    blithely navigate placid seas.

    And when thick fog comes rolling in
    you blast a steady warning note
    that guides them surely on their way
    from peril to hearth and home.
    Ever vigilant, you won’t rest,
    watching over till your last breath.

  13. DebiSwim on said:

    Soul Beacon

    There it stands
    out in a field
    beside the curvy road
    incongruous midst
    power lines and
    grazing cows.
    I wonder
    whose hands
    poised it there
    to silently,
    witness to
    God’s grace
    and saving

  14. Marjory MT on said:

    LIGHTHOUSE (Shadorma 353373)

    Bright beacon
    o’er pending peril,
    sends warning
    ‘pass on by,
    hiding dangers lurk below
    bright beacon.’

    • Marjory MT on said:

      OK, if the last line is suppose to have five beats the it should maybe read….
      this bright beacon’s beam.

    • William Preston on said:

      I like this. Again, the thin shape looks lighthousy, so to speak, and the top and bottom lines are the same, reminding me of the repetitive blinks.

      • Marjory MT on said:

        Someday, I hope to learn how to get a ‘Shape Poem’ to work on this blog! …. Maybe an In-form Wed Prompt.

  15. janeshlensky on said:


    I got accustomed to surges and swells,
    the stirring stress of storms, the floating fear
    that held me struggling just atop fresh hells,
    fogged into blindest night with no help near.

    Sometimes despair might make me cry aloud,
    and in moonlight, I’d fathom inland ways,
    but I could ride out storms, savaged but proud
    of navigating trouble’s endless days.

    I saw your blinding sight sweeping the waves,
    redundant pulse of seeking now your chore.
    Searching the depths, you longed for one who saves
    lighthouses anchored on a rocky shore.

    Sometimes when I’m reflected in you light,
    I wonder who saved whom that stormy night.

  16. janeshlensky on said:

    Evening News

    It takes
    a good deal more
    than searching light to save
    the ship of state in grave distress,

  17. DebiSwim on said:

    sadly true

  18. janeshlensky on said:


    She had that future gaze that saw us plain,
    that showed us how to navigate terrain
    or surging seas or troubles at the flood.
    She gave us tools to pilot our own blood.

    Her eyes surveyed with real regard, endowed
    with fiercely loyal love—I know that now.
    She saw us rich in worthiness and grace
    and charm, that steered us past the roughest place.

    Her light could pull us from some crippling gales
    and hold us knowing some love never fails,
    but she knew just how shame could be a tool
    to save us from a life of playing fool.

    Although she’s gone now into that good night,
    her gaze lives in me, showing me the light.
    And I am learning how to pass it on
    to others, so such seeing’s never gone.

  19. Beacon

    My heart is a house
    of light. I need only
    listen to its rhythmic
    beat, keep the tune
    in my head, and follow
    the music. If I remain
    in light, I have learned.

  20. Life is a Beach- The Lighthouse

    A moment at the break of early morn;
    a flash of dappled sun begins my day.
    My hope; it is a beacon for all storms
    as often it gives sight to calm my way

    Hope is a lighthouse for distress; a word
    of comfort from a friend who knows you’re tossed
    upon the deepest, darkest doom; absurd.
    Hope hurries to your side, not counting cost.

    Hope is a fortress, haply strong and fast
    its symbol bright; its light will never fail.
    Foundation; iron beams and built to last.
    A lighthouse for my life and all travail.

    Hope is that brightest spark the soul knows best;
    That beacon, beaming; love knows all the rest.

  21. Split Rock (Cinquain)

    shores hidden by
    gales of wind, rain and surf
    a beacon in the night, stay back
    stay safe.

    • William Preston on said:

      This has a haiku feel, which probably fits what inspired Crapsey to devise the form in the first place. I like it much.

  22. connielpeters on said:

    Two Friends

    A small white house with green shutters,
    a tall lighthouse splotched with age
    sit side by side on a hill.
    The small white house remembers
    a family chatting over meals,
    sharing chores, playing games,
    reading books to each other at night.
    The lighthouse remembers
    their care to keep its tower lit,
    its bright beams reaching out to sailors
    warning them of rocks and shallow waters.
    The two watch tourists coming up,
    allowing them to peek into the past,
    but keep their stories to themselves.

  23. Pingback: Foggy Spell | Metaphors and Smiles

  24. Foggy Spell
    They speak the language of the sea,
    an incantation that puts me always at ease;
    low hollow tones echo over the ocean.
    On opposite points of jagged ledge-
    muffled by the heavy morning mists,
    a duet is immersed in a medley of melody.
    Two deep distinct voices rise and fall,
    flowing separately-following one another
    a continuing conversation sung richly.
    An ongoing discussion between the pair:
    “Beeeewaaare seeeeafaaarers,” chants one.
    “Keeeep cleeeear,” is the mantra of the other.
    And they’re tireless in their enduring efforts,
    brilliant yellow beacons glow and bellow
    persistent through dark and foggy spells.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  25. Storm Sentinel

    he stretches skyward
    this sentinel of the bay
    steadfast through any weather
    casting his light, a welcome
    to sailors lost in a fog

  26. Pingback: Alive And Well | echoes from the silence

  27. I recently read The Light Between the Oceans and remain haunted by the images of the life of the lighthouse keeper.

    Light Keeper

    His solitary assignment,
    his conscious choice, no less,
    left him stranded—
    a word he resisted—
    in that place, a slave
    to ritual, routine.
    Minding the light,
    as faithful as any lover,
    his life full but unfulfilled.
    He’d studied metaphor, along with
    weather and illumination,
    knew he served as beacon
    to the lost, fixed point of reference
    for all traveling strangers.
    But his lamp burned real,
    his island lay solid in the dark sea,
    a resting place perhaps,
    stopover, but home to no one
    but himself.

    • Beautiful and emotive. I imagine one would need the right personality for this calling.

      Marie Elena

    • William Preston on said:

      Though many disparage it, one of my favorite books is The Little Prince, by de St. Exupery. This poem reminds me of the lamplighter character in that book. The piece contains simple power from simple words; superb writing.

  28. Pingback: Harbor | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  29. On the Rocks

    A constant
    Beaming a ray of comfort
    Night after night
    Keeping captains company
    With it’s circling light

  30. The Light Still Shines

    Before the Everlasting Light shined
    A star hung high in the heavenly sky
    A light that announced His holy birth
    Pointing us all to a whole new Way

    The first real lighthouse shined bright
    To the Way, the Truth and the Light

  31. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Out of the Darkness

    Stand stately upright,
    call to me
    Of warm light safety
    on my sea
    Disperse all fog,
    Enlighten me

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