The Ruination of Botallack
In Cornwall fair there lies some lonely stacks
Of rocks and bricks and mortar out at sea.
An engine house pow'ring the tin mine lacks
In completeness. The earth holding its scree
Dives from the land of tin and pasty fame
And into sea a darkest shade of blue.
Rocks of Botallack look to us in shame.
I turn my back and bid the mine adieu
But only to obtain my camera
And capture the ruins of despair.
My brain drinks this mine's old ephemera
And breathes the antique salty Cornish air.
Apollo's light then turns great hues of red
As I leave the old mine's ruins for dead.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
