I was tending the Light,
For the last time at Night,
When I saw a glow
Way out in the Bay.
Not the usual lantern lights,
At bow, and stern, and
Up the mast.
It was glowing,
Steady,
Not the flickering
When brushed
By the wind.
It’s the First of October,
And the ghosts,
Well,
The ghosts are getting ready.
It’s that time of year.
The dying time.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Fall Fairs
Bring fair foods.
At good fares.
And the provision boat
Comes next weekend
So
I must
Finish off what I have
This week.
A feast of hardtack
And beans
And a roast of pork
Still embedded
In the ice.
And moldy cheese
With the mold
Scraped off.
And a big cauldron
Stew
From those bits and bites
And pieces
That are not
Precisely
Identifiable.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
It was the last ship
I expect to see tonight,
Its ruddy lanterns
On the stern
Passing my Lighthouse
On its way to safe harbour.
Most ships do not want
To sail after dark,
Near the coast,
Near the rocks.
And a dog barked from
The deck,
And i wondered
What it thought,
What is smelled,
So close.
What were its
Expectations?
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Right on the dot
Of a clock.
The 20th minute
Post meridiem
Zap boom bah
Summer is over.
Then wait for a minute
And Autumn begins.
I went up the
Circular staircase
Of my lighthouse,
And leaned against
The railing
On that exact minute,
To watch whatever
Hand of time
Would shuffle the deck.
I do believe
The sunlight
Did flicker.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Mind you,
I have no dog
Here
On Partridge Island.
And
There is no bog
Here,
On Partridge Island.
There is grass,
And shrubs,
And fewer trees,
And the rocky,
Rocky,
Shore.
But I still would not
Have found my dog
In last night’s fog.
In fact,
I had to hold
Onto the rope,
Between my Lighthouse Keeper’s House
And the Lighthouse,
That I use in winter blizzards,
To find
The Lighthouse.
In that fog
You don’t even
See
The Light.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
There were rough seas at night,
But they did not keep me awake
For long.
The lighthouse keeper’s house
Has thick, stone walls
Like the lighthouse itself.
Built to last.
I snored away.
But the next day,
Which is clear but full of
Rough seas.
I walk the shore
Of Partridge Island,
To see what’s
Been blown in.
There’s always something.
Today, there is a dory,
As pristine as if someone
Had just rowed her here.
Though there are no
Oars.
Or any other item,
Or name on bow.
Barely a trace
Of water, awash
On it’s flat bottom.
I doubt I’ll ever
Know its origin,
Or its history.
In a couple of months
It’s mine to keep.
‘m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL sea,lighthouse,history,poem,poetry,harbor,harbour,Partridge Isl
When I hear
The Mermaid
Singing,
She sings for me.
She comes to the rocks,
At the base of my Lighthouse,
And sighs
And sings
And fills the froth
With her frothy voice.
She doesn’t try to lure me,
But to calm me
On my way to sleep,
Or on my return to wakefulness.
Always at the twilight
Of night,
Or the dusk
Of dawn.
So I have never seen her,
Which I assume
Is her intent.
She knows my desire
Is to pursue,
And also knows
I would perish
On the rocks.
We need
Each other
Alive.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Except the port is
Not that distant.
I don’t even need
My spyglass
To see the street lamps
Well-lit,
Especially the Three Sisters Lamp,
Lined up straight with
The steeple of Trinity Church
To give the captains
Of the ships
Somewhere to aim.
For they all aim,
Past me,
In my lighthouse
At the mouth
Of the harbour.
.
And they all
Go past me
To safe haven
,
And Friday night
Deviltry and celebration,
And rum galore!
Whilst I can
Only watch
From a distance.
{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
{I’m The Lighthouse
Poet Laureate of Partridge Island
1821 – 2021
A lot of stuff have I seen
A lot of stuff to report}
I opened the door
At the bottom of
My spiral staircase
Twisting
Beside the wall
Just white-washed
In the Spring.
And
Oh! And!!
Came out into
A sea
A forest
A cacophony
Of orange
And black
And white-spotted
Brilliant-winged
MONARCH butterflies.
They covered the edifice
From Light
To Entrance steps,
Soaking up
The heat
Of the stones.
I grabbed my trusty
Bum-worn
Wooden chair
And moved it
Distant enough
To watch the
Whole structure at once.
I’m still sitting.
~ DE BA, UEL.
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