History
Torn, a blue sky,
With scratches, scrapes
These holes may hide
But songs they slide
Indeliby through
A landscape dry
Years, dead summers
Imprints upon stone
Cracked walls, now rocks
No reconcile shown.
Hyacinths
Adorn the cracks
Where once lay an entrance
Themes of remembrance
The moat guarding
Sunken myths
I bear this image, and
I want to grasp,
With hands that are not Roman-
Two earthenware handles
And pull up through soil
Into light unbridled
Breath to ancient tales
Then far, now near
To add new to what
Was already here.
02/04/2013
Photo credit: © Ian Boyle, 13th June 2007 (Found at http://www.simplonpc.co.uk/Sussex_Dannie-Lee.html)
Ian Whiteley
Fri 19th Apr 2013 23:33
Another good one David - there's something very mysterious and other-worldly about historic sites - and you've captured that mythical air really well
Good 'un
Ian