I am a lone bird wheeling jagged edges

of ancient cliffs above the shallows

of a rough Dover sea.

My  feathers gleam in the beam of

the lighthouse where gentle swells

pulse against rocky shores  

where in dreams you held me tenderly like 

treasured pearls.

I have abandoned the lighthouse

that seems to lean closer to the sea

waiting in vain at the tide swept shore.

The beam has ceased its search

still each time I pass I  tip my  wing.

Share this:

135 thoughts on “The Lighthouse”

      1. I feel pretty much ALL of your poems. I love how you manage to do that.
        I try and can’t do imagery with such panache. I call myself a meat and potatoes writer – not that it is a bad thing, just the way it is. I’m not particularly adept at imagery.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. I felt a certain remembrance of the past the bird gives reverence to. Like ourselves, our glow and exuberance of youth is replaced by something more subtle and plain. To revere the past is to hold hope we are not too jaded to remember the peak of emotions that coursed through our veins and straight to the heart for a chance at another breath that we might go on. My imagination runs away with your words. Forgive me, I am in the habit of letting my visions run where they will.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Your musings and visions are more beautiful than any poem. There are many worlds in each of us, beautiful, melancholy, unforgettable remembrances that are sometimes contradictory with our present, terrifying or incredibly joyful. May your visions always run wild and free.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Beautiful Rene. I could not have said it better. While my inner world is vast, it is just a mote in a sunbeam compared to the cosmos and all the possibilities creative minds can connect to. There are many gateways that beckon to be unlocked and our imagination is the key.

        Like

  6. When I watch all my heartbeats
    getting washed out to sea,
    and I try to forget them –

    losing faith in my wings.

    And I watch all these dances
    getting washed out to sea,
    and the lighthouse reminds me
    just how good it could be.

    Silly moonlit things,
    giving up on me…

    giving up on me…

    Liked by 3 people

      1. Let’s round up all the seagulls,
        round up
        every weavable sky
        and tip the clouds by the flockful…

        signal every beam out there
        that still has eye to see
        and care…

        Like

  12. Pingback: The Lighthouse – sourab titrés

      1. Always a joy to read and share your posts with followers, My Dear! Hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving celebration! Please be very careful and safe out there! I worry about you being in Florida with it being a hotspot. Texas is no picnic either, but I stay hunkered down!!
        xoxox 😘💕💖🌹😁

        Liked by 1 person

          2. Thank you, lovely! I can’t wait to tell you how much I love your last poem and how happy I am that it is published. It’s so beautiful and deserving of being shared. Congratulations! I’ll be over ! 😊💞💗

            Like

Comments are now closed.