Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Hussein Dekmak Oct 2020
Gazing at you this morning, your face was pale and your body appeared Fragile;
This brought tears to my heart!

Not long ago, you were full of energy, looking vibrant with life, so Beautiful!
Your smile was soft, your scent delightful.

Without you,
Life won't be the same;
Fall will be long, winters will be cold and empty!
You are my beacon of peace, love, and inspiration!

I will miss you,
Yet, I will be waiting for you,
At the corner of love and hope to see you bloom once again with such life.
Enchanting me with the joy and beauty you bring.
The chance to admire you will be absolute bliss!

Hussein Dekmak

MSunspoken Sep 2020
Numbing chill
Amongst the gale
Ice cold breath
Trembling still
Heart be lost
Buried in snow
Tundras melt
Icebergs weep
Fingerlike rays
Warm on skin
Breath of life
Thaws a heart
Found by a beacon
Eloisa May 2020
And he believed
and found the magic in me
Then flew me into his floral wonderland
He held my hand
and lit the torch
The hope I’d use to light
the darkness of my thoughts
A bright beacon to tame my beast
A gardener unafraid to touch my heart of thorns
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Divide
by Michael R. Burch

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
was man born to sorrow that first day,
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide,
the brighter for longing, an object denied,
the tug at his heart's pink, bourgeoning clay?

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
but grew bitter, bitter ... man's torrents supplied.
The bride of their longing forever astray,
her shield a cold beacon across the Divide,
flashing pale signals: "Decide. Decide.
Choose me, or His Brightness, I will not stay."

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
imploring her, ebbing: "Abide, abide."

The silver fish flash there, the manatees gray.

The moon, a pale beacon across the Divide,
has taught us to seek Love's concealed side:
the dark face of longing, the poets say.

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide.

NOTE: "The Divide" is essentially a villanelle despite the non-formal line breaks.

Published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Eclectic Muse, Freshet, Better Than Starbucks, Sonnetto Poesia, The New Formalist and Pennsylvania Review

Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, sea, salt, first, tide, moon, pale, beacon, Divide, love, concealed side, dark side of the moon, longing, passion, desire, lust
Niki Gray Oct 2019
Remain humble and kind
always let your light shine.
Like a beacon of hope
to those wary, lost souls
on the hunt for a lamp
to light their barren path.
setting each step aglow
out of desolation.
Thank you to all my family and friends who support me and inspire me to be the best version of myself.  Special shout out to my husband Jim and my children Sydney and James thank you for loving me.  Thank you Christian,Todd, Sheela and Courtney for always giving great advice,  inspiration and encouragement. Thank you God for blessing me with so many things.
Bevan111 Sep 2019
On a cold and lonely day with a hint of a breeze
The red metal box alone and lonely  started to freeze
Would someone need  him today he thought
A lovers tiff, an angry couple who'd just fought

A well placed word on parchment or better still
A poem from the heart to elicit a thrill
Night and day, day and night
the postbox remained resolute hoping to see the light
Aquila Sep 2019
I am scared to die.
i know you wont be waiting for me anymore.
i miss you with every atom in my body.
I am a goddess atop a mountain:
I am afraid.
I am alone.
I am a beacon.
I am a coward.
how do i say this
neth jones Jul 2019
Don’t let the medium dry
Moisten This Creation                                   
by ANY MEANS necessary

It’s vulnerable

For This Creation to become pedestal WE MUST :

feed it
off of a capillary bag

mist it
under a dense healthy breath

lead it
to suckle an engorged breast

we risk it becoming husk ;
good only for digs and dust shops.

For This Creation, WE MUST queue

with our blood tapped
and ready

our breeding fluids
our various flows carefully labelled
and in sterile pouches

our donor cards filled out
steady for sacrifice

Keep This Creation wet
and it shall be a beacon
a call to awareness
a beckon of craft for us all
and not some common art-hole
Arts’ Monster
It’s vulnerable
(a toothed Whale out of water
  awaiting a machine strong enough
  to return it to the ocean)
Next page