His lantern shining on a summer's day,
To pierce the darkness of the human soul,
His pace deliberate, seeking on his way,
To find a man of only virtue full.
An idle quest, a philosophic stunt?
For surely roses cannot bloom in caves;
That man of virtue would the Furies hunt,
An angel cannot swim a sea of knaves.
But let us cast that light in different light,
Not if a man can be what cannot be,
But if one holds a candle in the night,
And choose a raft to be on moody sea?
For full perfection shall not grace this Earth,
But in the little things, lies life its worth.
I remember when we took that trip to Florida
It was late summer and Labor Day weekend
It was our first anniversary celebration trip
We stayed in the honeymoon penthouse suite
Our days were full of exploring antique stores
And the fun popular tourist sites we found
Our nights were full of passion and romance
A trip full of hope and dreams for our future
We found some garage sales along the way
And some rare 1800’s antique carriage lanterns
They had beveled glass, gold and brass accents
We decided to buy the pair to display at home
Years passed and many anniversaries too
Our lanterns have weathered many storms
They are strong resilient and still work today
A great symbol of our love and commitment
I never wished to be the fire
That found a home already weary.
I only carried the warmth I knew,
Never knowing it would become your ruin.
If I had seen those fragile walls,
The cracks hidden beneath your smile,
I would have held my flames with trembling hands,
Afraid to turn another memory into ash.
You say your home no longer stands,
That every corner became dust.
Yet ashes are only what remain
When something once burned brightly.
I cannot gather every broken brick,
Nor erase the scars my heat has left.
But if there is one prayer I still whisper,
It is that another sunrise—not my fire—
Will one day teach your heart
How to become a home again.
And if, in another lifetime,
We meet before the flames are lit,
May I learn to be a lantern instead of a wildfire.
The lantern wind drifts through the trees,
a silence carried by the wandering breeze.
It gathers quiet in small, tender degrees~
and the world glows where lantern wind passes.
Shy shadows lift as the light comes near,
folding the dusk into something clear.
Even the night leans close as if to hear~
and the world glows where lantern wind passes.
A single spark settles into my hand,
warm as a memory I understand.
It brightens the edges of my dream land~
and the world glows where lantern wind passes.
lone lantern holds
its thin flame upright
while shadows argue
about the meaning of light
I built a small cathedral
out of the hours no one saw.
Not of stone,
but of the quiet ache
that gathers when a person learns
to live with their own echo.
Inside it,
the light behaves differently.
It bends around old memories,
touches the soft edges
of the things I never said,
and warms them
as if forgiveness were a sunrise
slowly remembering how to rise.
Some days,
I am only a doorway
waiting to be opened.
Other days,
I am the whole sky
trying to hold itself together
while the wind insists
on teaching me how to let go.
But tonight,
I am simply human
a pulse,
a breath,
a small lantern of hope
carried through the dark
by hands that have learned
the art of not giving up.
And if you pass me
on one of your quieter evenings,
you might see it
that faint shimmer
of someone rebuilding themselves
not loudly,
not perfectly,
but honestly.
In ivory night I wander past the veil,
remembering how mortal breaths turn pale.
Peace rises from the wallpaper of stars
hidden lanterns guiding every fragile trail.
I found an old lantern
behind the door we stopped opening.
Dust covered the purple glass.
I brushed the years from its glass with my sleeve.
and the purple returned.
We used to raise our voices,
afraid silence meant we were losing
each other.
Now we sit quietly,
We had words,
but every word stayed somewhere inside.
The lantern whispered
through the silence between us.
Outside, the festival carried on,
while we stayed inside
beside the lantern between us.
The room felt different than before.
The lantern stayed on the table,
between us,
neither of us moved.
What we hid away
still waits behind doors
we thought were closed.
Those memories are old pages,
left where we last stopped reading.
So I hold it between us,
not because I believe
tomorrow would be any different.
But as proof
even after the hours
when our voices could not reach
across the room,
the dust had gathered,
but the lantern was not dark.
Personal Poetry Wheel Challenge
Challenge Dates: July 13, 2026 - July 19, 2026.
Theme: Relationships
Emotion: Peace
Color: Purple
Season: Festive
Form: Free Verse
Object: Lantern
Verb: Whisper
Beneath the lake’s dark skin, a lantern drifts, breathing light into the deep.
Fish pause mid-silver flicker, sensing secrets rising where no footsteps fall.
Some say the glow remembers us—calling back whatever we leave behind.
Cat decided to sleep outside on Halloween
Be careful! Cautioned her owner; do not be seen
People are evil, do not turn your back.
But cat wanted to guard the pumpkin Jack.
So, she sat in the field, watching her friend.
Luckily the trick-or-treaters were not around the bend.
They stay in town where more houses are.
She did not see a person, a truck or a car.
Stubborn, deaf, or just glee
Being who swings lip across nose
Asking who stinks
Knowing less he does.
That reminds me
Of relic modern lantern
Back where - I walk
My way to Damascus -
Lighting in and ahead
But blind towards
Tiny creature beneath
Hated Pharisaical Ninnyhammer across
‘You live beside mistake’ His words
Knowing less he does
jack-o-lantern totem was quiet and good
staying on the porch like a totem should
oak tree guarded her through the night
enjoying her flickering candle light
other animals gathered around to gawk
a porcupine, squirrel, crow and large beaked hawk
jack-o-lantern totem shared her light with all
she was a marvelous asset to our porch that fall
You mean Jack-o-Lantern Lane is a real thing?
I was surprised, thought it was just a song to sing.
Sure, said my uncle, it’s on the other side of town.
Want to go? Of course, I was down….
the lane was fiercely creepy, it gave some a fright.
Since I am braver than most, to me, it was a sheer delight.
I jumped out of the car and took pictures to post on sites.
It was one of my most utmost favorite Halloween nights.
jack-o-lantern scooped out his own seeds
then carved out his face with a knife from Leeds
he looked amazing with his notorious face lift
being self-sufficient and handy is a wonderful gift
Deep in the belly of the Jack-o-lantern forest were steeples
They were not known by many, gave witches the “creeples”
We never knew why they were there, but stayed away
The forest had an ambiance that said murder was her mainstay
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