Light flashing high above,
waves roaring at the base.
Wind whistles eerily around and around,
swirling in an endless chase.1
Boats fight against the tide,
steering away from black, dead stones.
If the light above didn't flicker,
then the rocks would be made of bones.2
Hope illuminates surroundings,
embedded deep within the glare.
It flickers in the depths like fire,
never leaves, just there.3
But now, as the years pass,
the light slowly fades away.
The paint starts to peel off,
revealing a harsh, rough gray.4
Bird droppings coat the place,
covering up all signs of beauty.
With that exact same move,
the darken Hope, it's just duty.5
Now the Lighthouse stands abandoned,
no fire flickering within.
No more does safety radiate from it,
for now, technology has gained a win.
A contest entry
- Picture Prompt Contest by Alexgia.
175 points, ended March 5, 2009, 10 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Beautifully written. Just to mention.. I think you may have meant this poem to be written in 4 line stanzas. I've done the same thing. If you go into edit... and fix the spacing.. don't check off "fix line spacing"... it does this automatically.... I didn't know that until yesterday myself. Anyway.... wonderful piece... it would flow better I think as mentioned above. Good Luck in the contest.
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Very well written...I enjoyed this. Good luck in the contest.
Ria
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