Metronomy

Forgotten piece of jigsaw,

laying in reverence at the feet

of an unseen entity.

I cannot hear.

An ignorant pauper in water coloured smears.
*

Ancient voices echo

in vibrations beneath my lowly toes.

In austerity, grass rolls

as if to greet unseen visitors

and carpet their feet in some subdued welcome.
*

Questioning,

the truth of this place,

stoic settling of those who work,

those who fight,

and those who pray.
*

Their words “heaven” bound,

and lost,

amidst the curlew’s cry

and the raven’s caw.

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16 responses to “Metronomy

  1. Another beautiful poem from your pen, Shan…just lovely…I guess those ruins are in Norfolk but they remind me of York. They have the same ‘grandiose’ feel of the weight of history. Love this :) xx

  2. Such a captivating & stirring poem, Shan ~ a piece of history, somehow sad, that also enchants ~ & a connection with our others who lived inside that history. I just love ‘An ignorant pauper in water coloured smears.’ Wonderful write :)

  3. I was born and raised in Brighton, moved to Canada in 2002. I miss all the old ancient buildings/churches/monuments. They hold so much history in their bricks and mortar. This is a lovely write. Took me right back to all the many times I’d visited Castles, Huge old estates, and such. :) Canada tends to think anything going back to the 1600’s is old. They don’t seem to realise how old, old is to the UK. LOL

    • I’m from North Wales originally and I think it instils in you that we are walking amongst the ancients! There’s something most austere in these buildings resurrected in 1100’s. Yes I know they’ve had bits added to them/ torn down in the reformation by old Henry and his lot, but I fail to find any religion there. Just a peace, amongst nature. As it should be.

  4. n austerity, grass rolls
    as if to greet unseen visitors
    and carpet their feet in some subdued welcome…i always find it fascinating to stand in such places and breathe a bit of the history, trying to reconstruct what they did, how they lived, what they felt… a beautiful piece shan

  5. Oh this is such beautiful poetry! And the photo is SPECTACULAR. Lovely. And I can imagine how much fun swimming in a crocheted bikini was (as you mentioned on my blog:) That is worse than the underwear story. Almost. Hee hee. I love your blog…..

  6. Some of my most enjoyable memories of travels are drawn from ruins and my quiet contemplation in their presence. They felt alive to me, not simply structures that withstood time and weather but more like their history still echoes. I may not be making sense to anyone but myself. They never felt deserted. Their energy was there. Enough of my rambling. I thoroughly enjoyed experiencing your poem and reliving my memories. You can stalk me anytime :)

  7. nice..i like it being the forgotten piece of jigsaw…and the barefoot in the grass…i love that….def in places like this i like to pay a bit of revernce…smiles….lovely piece shan

  8. Can’t help thinking that by means of destruction, Henry VIII caused Art to be created.
    Those ruins mean more to me than the originals intact would have done.
    And, art begets art….
    Your words echoed what I feel when I visit those places.
    Glastonbury was my latest. I’m afraid I forget the names of the others. This in Norfolk?

  9. This a truly thought provoking, image filled poem. I love that I can feel myself standing there considering the history of a place, pondering it story. Love it :) x

  10. Everyone above has said what I would have said, if I’d visited earlier (and if I was clever enough to think of those words) so I’ll just say what I said when I finished reading this beautiful work of yours: Stunning!

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