Wednesday, December 17, 2014


baylee ruins

Time tumbled through the lingering days,
sighing into deep falling as nights passed,
drawn down toward the bed of earth;
returning to the lowest point as cast.

Awry, askew, divided into many parts,
a separating from the substance known,
a calling back to pure imaginings;
so did the soil seduce and call its own.

What once stood proudly solid and erect,
had fallen into ruins of deep disgrace,
a breaking down of order and of substance;
chaos called and mocked with weary face.

1 comment:

  1. I was halfway through and already wishing I had a group of my students to work through the poem with. I love it, Ros. So much happens in the poem.

    Merry Christmas.