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.
lillian the home poet 
I feel this very much as an echo of ghosts of time passed… You really spoke a story of the walls here,
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Thank you, Bjorn. It really gets the imagination going when exploring the ruins here in this beautiful setting.
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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.
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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.
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This is so profound. And there still seems to be the need to build walls between people. Will we ever learn?
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So very glad you enjoyed this one. Thank you so much for your much appreciated words here.
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Quite an impressive take on the prompt 🙂
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Thank you so much. We’d just taken a walk that included these decaying buildings. They make the imagination travel backwards – seem haunted…
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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.
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I of course have heard of that place. Still standing?
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Yes and still housing inmates.
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this is super!
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Thank you, Candy. Glad you liked it!
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Buildings can hold so much memories, history… some might be better left untouched.
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Agree.
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I find old prisons to be very unnerving. Excellent poem. >
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Thank you — yes, the imagination brings wails and poor souls to mind….
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Wow, wonderful filling in the feeling.
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Thank you!
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I am so enamored of “the sun cared more…”
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Thank you! Truly appreciate your words here….happy I am.
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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….
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Thank you Toni…..and for the beautiful line you’ve quoted here!
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oddly, the line is from a book about a vampire who was an ambassador during Elizabeth I…..
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Wonderful idea to tell a story from the perspective of a building.
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Thank you, Bryan. So glad you liked it!
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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.
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I felt the ghosts here…….Glad that you enjoyed this one!
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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.
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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!
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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..:)
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