Christopher Roe’s most recent poem to appear here was Mary’s Place (September 2011).
Ruins
By Christopher Roe
By Christopher Roe
Bare broken bones of ruined castle keep
stark against the gray unyielding horizon
like departing souls black rooks take wing
wind moans in darkened corners breathe
where blown dry leaves scuttle like ghosts
deep within the wreck of once grand walls
forgotten stones like dead upon a heap
the shards of history no longer speak
tumbled gravestones in a weed grown yard
no longer tell of keepers wandering close
atop a lone sarcophagus a gray cat sleeps
the waxing wind wails dead monk’s chants
shadows flee the setting sun
moon glares its cold blue eye
upon shapes in the gloom that shift and cry
Look at us. Look at us
and learn.
Love the imagery.
I was out of breath. So much passion here.
Christopher, beautiful imagery, internal rhyme, sense of dark and dank,
my favorite line:
“the waxing wind wails dead monk’s chants…”
Thank you for sharing this exquisite poem; wish I’d written it!