Light House 7 Poem by DM W
Light House 7
Under stars, beguiled by seagulls' cries,
A tall, hollow tower at cliff's edge;
With its faded paint of spectral white;
With its walls drenched in battered sea mist;
Blessed beacon of the bleakest night.
No neon shrine or crude symbol:
Born of restless modern dreaming.
Yet iconic and immovable;
As it fulfills its time honored role,
Of guiding lost ships in troubled seas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
9/12/2025 11:58:16 AM # 1.0.0
In trouble sea, is not this world a troubled sea
Indeed Gajanan that's what I was alluding to in the poem...thanks for your comment.