July 13th – Lighthouses 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.
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KEEPING UP WITH THE WAVES
July 12 – Starry, Starry Night
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
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
All I can offer is awe and amen.
… and wow.
I love the phrase “The Anchor of my soul” Very touching and confidant Erin, lovely.
Me too. That grabbed me right away
Ditto. ♥
Very well done, holding so much truth.
Thanks to all of you!! 😀
LIGHTHOUSE
Blink. Sweep
across the sea;
save us all from the shoals
that hide in mesmerizing fog.
Sweep. Blink.
copyright 2013, William Preston
I think the “Sweep, Blink” is so effective. I can actually see that in my mind.
So true.
THE OLD LIGHTHOUSE
Retired,
no lantern left
to penetrate the night,
yet its shaft warns of dangerous
daylight.
copyright 2013, William Preston
AT THE OLD STONE LIGHTHOUSE
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
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.
I like the fact that while nor ‘manned’, many lighthouse still send out computer manned beams of warning.
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?
Thank you. I don’t know if this is a formal scheme or not; I got the idea from Frost’s Stopping By Woods.
Oh!! How lovely…it makes me happy to see people pattern after other poets…studying and cycling schemes forward. 🙂
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
Both excellent writes, Misk! Love the wordplay in your epitaph.
There’s a photo I took right where we sat yesterday, too, if you’d like to see the lighthouse. It’s a rather famous one.
http://miskmask.wordpress.com/2013/07/13/two-poems-for-a-lighthouse/
Beautiful picture. I would love to be sitting where I could see that. Your epitaph is brilliantly effective with fishwife – a wow here.
I like your play on words and picture building. Thanks
Me, too. The picture adds, but the words paint well.
These are such good verbal snapshots, Misky.
ACCIDENTAL MIGRANT
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
😀 !
William,
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!!
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.
I can hear that poor bird say “Where am I?”
Some birds seem to look that way anyway. Thrushes, for example, mainly seem to have a pop-eyed look, in my mind.
Reminds me of the book, The Big Year, about birding. The movie doesn’t do it justice.
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.
[…] “Lighthouse” Wikipedia “Fishwife” Photo is my own of Beachy Head on Sussex coast Copyright © Misky (MB) […]
UNEVEN TIDES
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.
Well worth reposting, beautifully done.
Beautifully written, Marie. ♥
Indeed.
BEACON IN THE MURKY NIGHT
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.
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.
“In the murky night; a lighthouse shines.”
That is so beautifully full of promise. 🙂
Those last two lines are such a perfect close. 🙂
BUFFALO HARBOR LIGHTHOUSE
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)
I’ve been visiting there and reminiscing lately. *sigh* Might have to find time to spend together across the lake again.
M.E.
You’re missed there. All I do lately is reminisce. And soul search. Maybe time to change the name back again!
I like both yours, Walt, but this one’s geographic details ground me in its tribute.
I’d like to second that sentiment. Also the “All is well” phrase recalls for the the town crier or the lamplighter, and personify the lighthouse. There’s much love in both poems, especially the second.
GUIDANCE
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.
Wonderful assurance.
wonderful tribute to mom.
So sweet, Linda.
Marie Elena
I lo e this, and the thin rendering resembles a lighthouse.
Linda, we were on the same wavelength today.
Parenting
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.
How peaceful to know they are (will be) always there.
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,
symbolically,
stand
witness to
God’s grace
and saving
power?
What better to witness to.
Debi, you’re on a roll today. All good reading.
Truly.
Marie Elena
Yes, indeed.
LIGHTHOUSE (Shadorma 353373)
Bright beacon
o’er pending peril,
sends warning
‘pass on by,
hiding dangers lurk below
bright beacon.’
OK, if the last line is suppose to have five beats the it should maybe read….
this bright beacon’s beam.
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.
Someday, I hope to learn how to get a ‘Shape Poem’ to work on this blog! …. Maybe an In-form Wed Prompt.
Symbiosis
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.
🙂
Wow. A bingo for sure. The final line is neck-snapping.
Evening News
It takes
a good deal more
than searching light to save
the ship of state in grave distress,
sinking.
sadly true
Lighthouse
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.
And speaking of on a roll, Jane? Wow.
Marie Elena
Yes. I think the roll is perpetual.
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.
This is so lovely and wise, Sara. You consistently say so much in so few words.
Marie Elena
Thanks, Marie! I am completely in love with this July beach prompt.
Excellent. This calls to mind something some Quaker friends (or Friends) like to say: :holding in the light.”
Oh, I really like that.
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.
I like the allusion of hope as a lighthouse. Never would’ve thought of that.
Split Rock (Cinquain)
Rocky
shores hidden by
gales of wind, rain and surf
a beacon in the night, stay back
stay safe.
This has a haiku feel, which probably fits what inspired Crapsey to devise the form in the first place. I like it much.
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.
Ooo…I love the persona, Connie!
Hannah said it well, and I add my amen.
Marie Elena
Mine too. This is breath-takingly dear.
I like the vivid picture you paint here.
[…] LIFE IS A BEACH – LIGHTHOUSE-Poetic Bloomings […]
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
I love this. Pairs (or triplets or whatever) of lighthouses strike me as little communities or families, and this poem accentuates that feeling for me.
Oh, how cool, it’s neat to find similarities in patterns of thinking! Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. 🙂
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
[…] Written for Poetic Bloomings “Life is a Beach” – Day 13: Lighthouse. […]
ALIVE AND WELL
As my world
crashed around me
I heard your clarion call.
I looked to the east
where you waited, strong
and standing tall.
You guided me,
giving me hope,
as days turned to night.
Through rough waters
I navigated, in the safety
of your light.
2013-07-13
P. Wanken
Superb.
Thanks, William.
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
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.
[…] … Written for Poetic Bloomings, Day 13. […]
On the Rocks
A constant
Beaming a ray of comfort
Night after night
Keeping captains company
With it’s circling light
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
Out of the Darkness
Stand stately upright,
call to me
Of warm light safety
on my sea
Disperse all fog,
Enlighten me