The Lighthouse

The lighthouse beams into the night

Shattering the sea's conformity.

Raindrops fry upon the black ocean like bacon

And the lighthouse cries out across obsidian to anyone who'll notice.

It is a pleading thing,

Blindfolded by a cloth of icy rain

That screams in the bitter wind.

It is a tame thing, this lighthouse,

When thunder cracks like a breaking bone

And heaven's light absorbs the pompous streetlamp.

Well might the ships keep away

For shame of association

With the squat lonely building

With its yellow rotation

Atop the jagged crumbling cliff.

How beautiful it becomes though

When the boom of a colliding wave

Reaches up towards the top

To hint at the breaching

Of mankind's precautions.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I have read many poems about lighthouses...probably too many...
But this one separates itself from all the others...that might produce a yawn instead of interest,
the metaphors in this are fantastic....and the personification that brings them to the surface...
like those mysterious fish hardly ever seen because they are hidden deeply below the waves.

I really like the "cloth of icy rain" the pompous streetlamp" "the sea's conformity" are all fresh...

You are quite the poet...I am so glad I came across this write...I shall look into more of your writings.
j.

[Ranger Kessel]

A very descriptive poem with a great readability format. Thanks for ousting and best wishes.