Lighthouses
Short. Chequered.
Tall, stark
white. Bleak.
Imposing. Short.
Bulky.
Soaring tall
towers.
Architects of the
past
Monuments of hope.
Incredible lenses.
Awe inspiring
architecture.
Tales of
survival.
Loneliness.
Heroics.
Salty air, howling
winds.
Fierce sun,
pelting hail.
So few, humble,
men, women,
keeping thousands
safe.
Drawn to every
story,
I sit in the long
shadow,
Watching clouds
scuttle past.
Looking up and
wondering,
At midnight,
mid-winter,
Who walked the
spiral stairs?
Julia Vaughan
Julia Vaughan
moved to Australia with her husband in 1989 and began writing poetry after
attending inspiring Victorian Surf Coast U3A “I just don’t get poetry”
classes. Having poems dotted sparsely across the internet, she dreams of
becoming an accomplished poet. When not dreaming, she can be found
walking the beaches with her two Vizsla dogs.
Published poems:-
Woman in Red -
Otoliths, 01Nov2021
Words are Flowers
- Melbourne Culture Corner, 01Nov2021
Finding Calm -
Writing In A Woman’s Voice, 09Feb2022
Sustain Yourself –
Mad Swirl, 15Feb2022
Fabulous work. I, too, would love to know who walked the spiral stairs. Linda
ReplyDeleteThank you Linda. I was quite taken by stories of wives, in the middle of the night, carrying up the stairs, bowls of hot soup to exhausted and wet and cold lighthouse keepers in the middle of wild weather.
ReplyDelete