To the Lighthouse

Dark.

The universe rocks and shakes;
sky tilts, waves heave,
frozen stars whip into my eyes.

Balancing,
on creaking wood,
shifting fathoms,
moving mountains,

Months. Years.
Living in death's gaping mouth.

Light.

Sea collapses, silken,
moonlight shimmer,

winking light.

Safe pillar.
Held in my eyes.

Lighthouse.

© Valerie Taylor
All rights reserved

Writing Help: Dive or Wade? | WritingCompanion

Dive or Wade?

Some writers like to dive straight into the help pool, immersing themselves in many kinds of writing assistance. They zap through innumerable books, workshops, and websites, and may join not one but several writing groups.

Some learners find it exhilarating to get their hands on so much information and help in a short period. For others, being deluged with much new information can be confusing, stressful, and cause them to lose confidence.

Wading is another choice, which some learners prefer and others take up because work and other commitments make it impractical to dive in. They start at the shallow, comfortable end of the writing help pool, perhaps reading a few relevant blogs and books, participating in a short workshop, attending a one-off lecture. As they grow more confident about their needs and interests, they strike out into deeper, adventurous water. They may enrol in a long-term course or sign up with a mentor. This approach does not overwhelm learners, but some find the learning process frustratingly slow.

Whether you dive or wade, writing help works best when it fits your needs. Too often, we evaluate help opportunities in terms of their cost and convenience. It’s more promising to focus instead of us, as writers, in terms of our...

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Writing Help: Dive or Wade? | WritingCompanion:

To the Lighthouse

“Why don’t we go to the faro?”
She said without waiting for answer
And briskly we walked the paseo
Past all the tripper trap chancers.

The sun was hot as hot could be,
The lighthouse worth more than a glance:
Time to stop by the sparkling sea?
But she had scented her chance ...

Past overpriced bars and cafes,
We now trudged over the dunes;
Past beaches for children then gays -
Would we stop anytime soon?

“Journey’s end,” she said with a screech,
“Here we are!” she cried with delight:
“Frying flesh on the nudist beach.
Feast your eyes on these wondrous sights!”

© Tim Scott
All rights reserved

(Ode) To The Lighthouse.

In lonely vigil, constant, mute,

     I rise above the ocean.

Through hours of dark

     I watch them pass,

Specks of perpetual motion.

I blink and turn

     and blink again,

their lodestar of the deep;

and then they're gone

     to alien shores,

unnamed, unknown, 

     sent safe away

while other mortals sleep.

© Sheila Rogers

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16, Lighthouse Road

Leaving, I consider how

the name of a destination sometimes describes a road
irrespective of the direction you move along it

and how

travelling away, towards the rest of the world
I can pull a beacon, with its quick, silent glances of radiance
further and further away into the unfamiliar. 

© Sophia Roberts
All rights reserved

To the Lighthouse

Hornet homes must be too dark,
Too crowded, difficult to park,
Too many close-up. Wing-tip rips,
Not any room to stand apart.

A human home, an upstairs room
Tempts hornets to the windowsill
They queue up, hoping for remorse
From human, gently buzzing hearts.

© Isabel Hare
All rights reserved

Fifty words give or take on “The Lighthouse”

It’s just a lighthouse to you
but to me it’s home
just a little place amid the foam
storms come and go
that’s life I suppose
it’s been my place
high tide or low
the bucket and spade
my only foe
apart from that
I’m happy being a
lugworm.

© William Botley
All rights reserved