The Lighthouse
Upon the rugged, windswept shore,
Where waves crash wild forevermore,
A steadfast tower, brave and bright,
Guides the lost through darkest night.
Its beacon cuts through mist and rain,
A shining hope in ocean’s pain.
Through storm and still, it lights the way,
A faithful watch both night and day.
Oh, lighthouse strong, you never wane,
A guiding star on the endless plain.
In your glow, the weary rest,
Their hearts made calm, their spirits blessed.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins6 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (3)
A true Guard to all the ships at sea. Great description.
A lovely testament to those guiding lights in our life. 🤗
Such a beautiful and evocative poem ✨ Loved it 🤗