The lighthouse keeper


Moonbeams flash off white horses,
The keeper lays face down, eyes open
Cold tea by his bed,
Flies cover his bacon sandwich,
A fowl stench hangs in still air,
The ship nears jagged white cliffs,
381 dead or missing,
Gulls skid on her upturned hull,
Crashing waves await the morning sun.




Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 704 times
Written on 2015-04-25 at 16:22

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
What a marvelously stirring piece. It tells us so much in such a small span. Well done.
2015-04-27



Macabre and dark like the menace of the sea.
Love it!
2015-04-25


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Powerful imagery here Mick. As a sailor I truly appreciate the need for lighthouses and the digilence of their keepers. Now, thank God, they're automatic and electric. No concern over overripe lighthouse keepers. Well written!
2015-04-25