jeudi, juillet 07, 2005

M,

You are like a lighthouse to a stranded boat at sea...

Keeping afloat,

Camille xo
Thoughts by à

3 commentaires:

Anonyme a dit...

Lighthouse Poem I for Cammers

DARK! DARK! Comes the night;
time to turn on the light.
TREAD! TREAD! Up the stairs
goes the keeper with his wares.
SNIP! SNIP! She trims the wick,
stirs the oil, clear and thick.
STRIKE! STRIKE! goes the match;
fire on the wick does catch.
GLIMMER! GLIMMER! Spark takes hold
of the wick so pale and cold.
FLAME! FLAME! burns the oil,
all night long it will not spoil.
FLASH! FLASH! the beacon warns--
Beware of rocks! Beware of storms!

Manners xo

4:04 p.m.
Anonyme a dit...

Lighthouse Poem II for Cammers

Here,
Among these jeweled stones
These worthless, wondrous anchorings
Of moonlit magic nights
Upon this Bay.
(What stories do you hold?)

Here,
Among the long dead,
Living limbs of trees
That drifted down the waters
Of a thousand streams,
To wash upon this Eastern Shore
Like me,
And these;
My family of friends.

Here,
Together and alone
To freely spend
The morning & the evening sky
With swimming somersaults of joy
Through silken waters
Spread like open arms
As far as eye can see

Here,
Where winged and walking
Fishermen will find
Within the waving grassy shallows
Of teeming life
A harvest for our daily feast
Of friendship & delight.

And Here,
Where longing memory at last arrives
And docks its tiny boat
To find
That everyone whoever washed ashore,
Upon this golden stretch of sand, and tree and stone
Is together still and gathered here
To share this Bay's eternal feast
Of Life.

4:07 p.m.
Anonyme a dit...

'Lighthouse' poem III for Cammers (by Shakespeare)

When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted,
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory:
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.

4:19 p.m.

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