Photo by Jessica
Visit Jessica's 365 Day Photo Project Blog
Visit Jessica's 365 Day Photo Project Blog
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Suggested Prompt...
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Suggested Prompt...
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Use a lighthouse in your writing today.
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Lighthouse
beckon to our hearts
When will Papa's ship come in?
Rest easy my love his ship will come soon
Lighthouse at night
Lighthouse light shining toward the sea
Knowing that you are out there
Waiting for me
Lighthouse summoning you home
to me
~ cagrowngirl
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
5 comments:
The lighthouse
Stands tall
Shines to the world
Yelling out
"I am here"
"Look at me"
Beckons to those in stormy waters
Comforts those in dark seas
Raises up the wandering eye
Lifts up the hands that hang down
Like a lighthouse
I would like to be
Lighthouse
beckon to our hearts
When will Papa's ship come in?
Rest easy my love his ship will come soon
Lighthouse at night
Lighthouse light shining toward the sea
Knowing that you are out there
Waiting for me
Lighthouse summoning you home
to me
The light is on, but nobody is home. They are out at the store buying a wire mesh pencil holder.
The lighthouse was always a beacon of hope for her. If she could see the lighthouse, she was safe. She never went far from shore. She never went past the village's boundaries. She had to see that building during the day, the light at night. She didn't know what was beyond the village, and she never wanted to know. She had heard the stories of the fishermen lost at sea, those who could not find the lighthouse. She had heard the stories of the boats crashing into the cliffs when they couldn't see the light. What would happen to her if she couldn't see the light? She needed to be safe. Always.
As such, she never left the village. She never saw the world. She never met new people. She never learned of other cultures. She never experienced life as it was meant to be experienced.
She lived a safe life. She lived a sad life. She died alone.
She is buried next to the lighthouse ... her beacon, her safety.
Angelina studied the neat white house and the tall striped tower. Was this what she had been missing all these years? She checked the adress that she'd written down just a few days ago. But her trip felt like weeks. The house looked clean and comfortable, and she could see herself falling into bed there. But no one was home. She found the lighthouse door open and hiked to the top, "Hello?" She stuck her head up from the stairs. "Well, I'll be..." the old man said. It was a tearful greeting, but what do you expect from people who haven't seen their only grandchild in 18 years, and 11 months? As incredible as it was, that didn't stop Anglina from dropping onto the small cot in the corner. The sound of the waves rocked her to sleep and she knew, this is what home is suppoused to feel like.
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