Razor edged wire, threatens no more
pock marked walls show soul’s erosion
wind, humidity and whipping post,
rotters in this Devils’ Isle.
Faceless among spirits’ wails,
I roam this prison centuries freed.
Death’s release forced my choice
and I am staid midst crumbling stone.
My crimes were but a patriot’s wish
allegiance not to putrefied wigs,
but to the poor and scrabbling ones
who sought but food and voice.
I swear to you, the sun cared more
within these exiled walls,
than in London’s teeming lanes
and me upon bended knee.
I watch you, with eyes no more
buildings turned to crypt
by guards decrepited, paneless,
upright never then, and failing now.
I see those who cannot see me
workers, reclaimers and visitors alike,
bodies who will never understand
restoration shall never be.
Motivated by dVerse Poet’s Pub: Victoria tending the bar asked us to think about Me, Myself, and I…..or Is It? and write a poem in the first person. This piece is inspired by both the ruins and the history of Bermuda. Photo is at the Royal Naval Dockyard — the Casemates, built in 1839 by British convicts. These buildings were first used to house militia and later became a prison. Some restoration work has occurred — the climate here takes its toll on the old and the new.
I feel this very much as an echo of ghosts of time passed… You really spoke a story of the walls here,
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Bjorn. It really gets the imagination going when exploring the ruins here in this beautiful setting.
LikeLike
Impressive piece of history encased in strong poetry, Lillian. This reminds me a bit of Alcatraz island whose walls must hold so many stories of hopelessness. The third stanza made the story all the more tragic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I’ve been to Alcatraz. I think the sea and wind and blown sand work their erosion in such a way that makes it all the more tragic to see those walls. Memories encased…..and here, you add the humidity and the ruins are almost palpable in their wailing. Thank you for the kind comments! I really enjoyed this prompt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is so profound. And there still seems to be the need to build walls between people. Will we ever learn?
LikeLiked by 1 person
So very glad you enjoyed this one. Thank you so much for your much appreciated words here.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Quite an impressive take on the prompt 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much. We’d just taken a walk that included these decaying buildings. They make the imagination travel backwards – seem haunted…
LikeLike
reminds me of Sing Sing prison just down the road from where I live. I used to ride the train, which passed mere feet from its barb wired walls when I worked in the city. You poem evoked the hopeless dread sight of that place evoked.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I of course have heard of that place. Still standing?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes and still housing inmates.
LikeLike
this is super!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Candy. Glad you liked it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Buildings can hold so much memories, history… some might be better left untouched.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Agree.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I find old prisons to be very unnerving. Excellent poem. >
LikeLike
Thank you — yes, the imagination brings wails and poor souls to mind….
LikeLike
Wow, wonderful filling in the feeling.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
I am so enamored of “the sun cared more…”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! Truly appreciate your words here….happy I am.
LikeLike
so much history in this, so much understanding of the past lived in its walls. It reminds me of a line I read in a book about a visit to a deserted seraglio – the walls sweated with their tears and stank of their petty jealousies….so much feeling for a time and a space….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Toni…..and for the beautiful line you’ve quoted here!
LikeLike
oddly, the line is from a book about a vampire who was an ambassador during Elizabeth I…..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful idea to tell a story from the perspective of a building.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Bryan. So glad you liked it!
LikeLike
History holds so much emotion here in these walls and I love that you’ve given them a voice. It is as though they are hanging on to tell their stories.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I felt the ghosts here…….Glad that you enjoyed this one!
LikeLike
Old ruins of buildings and houses do hold on to the essences of the people who lived and worked there. You can feel it when you are there. I do love anything that has such history, and maybe even tales of ghosts and hauntings. Prisons interest me, too, as my husband just retired from working in the one here for over 20 years. Wonderful take on the prompt.
LikeLike
So slow I am in response. Apologies! Bermuda has been calling me more than the words — but I am back to my reading and writing. So nice to see your words here! Thank you!
LikeLike
Human prisons rust
Human’s Love rusts..
Human Freedom SinGs
with only Trust.. asSonG
wIth Love
asKinD
and fearless
RefRain..
amuSt
iNflAme
aTorch
oF FiRe
iN
i’sLove..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person