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The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill it had been there for centuries forgotten none now knew for what purpose it had been used not even the elders who had many suggestions A not unattractive looking building of stone and that in it's self only added to the mystery for these stones were not locally quarried the nearest place being over 170 miles away Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed wrestling them into place quite some task an imposing building nestled in the hillside and the views surrounding it post card perfect Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall large enough for a man to walk into upright Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche This was all that was left apart from one roofed room in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed admittedly very rockety but still it was usable I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep I found the building restored though it's use still not clear only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal I realised from their armour that these were soldiers so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme for a poem so I wrote this.

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Ram-Shackled Ruin

The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill it had been there for centuries forgotten none now knew for what purpose it had been used not even the elders who had many suggestions A not unattractive looking building of stone and that in it's self only added to the mystery for these stones were not locally quarried the nearest place being over 170 miles away Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed wrestling them into place quite some task an imposing building nestled in the hillside and the views surrounding it post card perfect Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall large enough for a man to walk into upright Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche This was all that was left apart from one roofed room in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed admittedly very rockety but still it was usable I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep I found the building restored though it's use still not clear only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal I realised from their armour that these were soldiers so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme for a poem so I wrote this.