I thought I saw
The stones almost breathing,
Trembling above an archway
in perilous union,
Gargantuan slabs of slate sit
Atop rotten roof rafters
Splintering through their wormy hearts
And weathered walls.
The beating wind
That grinds and gnaws,
The pock marked surfaces
And goat licked canyons
Caving in like Las Medullas,
Termite mounds of rust
And phantom limbs of chestnut trees.
Abandoned but for tourist click
Of shutters decaying inwards
To shadows cool with piercing eyes,
& the goats rest on the broken
Blue balcony, looking out,
To bright clear heat rising.
Categories:
eulalia, imagery, nature, places, travel,
Form: Free verse
The song of Prudentius eloquent as a dove;
Escapes from her lips in a freedom folk lore’s:
Torn and spiked by iron hooks in Roman pleasure,
Breasts burnt to smoke at the tender age of twelve plus.
Sacrifices to their Gods she would not accept;
Miracle covered her with snow to each ones joy.
On the pavements lay her lifeless body,
Guarded by the evils and the heavenly; Divine.
Picture Prompt Ref:-
"Saint Eulalia"
by John William Waterhouse, 1885
http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=15983&tabview=image
Categories:
eulalia, art
Form: Free verse