The Lighthouse Poem by Vishorag Shadja

Standing tall is the tower by the shore,
When all around you doesn't even reach,
Your height that will sky breach,
Against the salty wind along the beach.

Centuries old is the underpinning,
that shows every-time the shore departs
Pining for the replacement parts,
Yet standing tall like the master of fine arts.

Gusts that try to shake the goth,
Against the odds the lighthouse prevails.
The exiled beauty of threadbare sails
That flutter like a monk's cloth.

Every quake is the turn of the screw,
Cracks that show the long endurance...
The tower being the rock of tolerance,
Adventurous is the tower's persistence.

The executioner has come for your art,
Hack you down and set you part by part,
For you are old and might fall apart,
With calmness and serenity you should depart.

Yet, the salty air doesn't stop,
Humidity and cold over the top.
Bringing about rain and clouds,
With fog and squall and shrouds.

The lighthouse tower tries to stand tall,
Throughout the winter, summer and fall.
Still pining for the replacement parts,
The master of fine arts finally departs.


- - - - - - - - -Vishorag