There is still the echo of cannon-fire
tucked inside the alcoves
the shadow of men with broadswords
across the window ledges,
whispers of skirts on floorboard,
creaking corsets and stubborn doors,
muted conversations,
murmured lovers’ words,
and the echo of a family,
some gone, some misplaced, some safe.
We remember the thrum of armies,
where they marched on stone, on grass, on soil.
Where we lay, were built, and fell,
where you now walk on summer days
when the sun is high and bright,
and there was nothing else much to do
but visit local sights.
We will stand here still,
until the years pass on too far,
and then there will be no stories for us to tell
and no walls to talk anymore.
Don’t entirely sure what I think of this piece as my brain’s a little fried from working on Shadow Dawn for the last four hours. Day one of NaNoWriMo done, twenty-nine left to go.
Anyway, I was going to give poetics a miss tonight but the prompt ‘if these walls could talk’ just took me straight to Morton Corbet Castle in Shropshire and I had to write something.
Carol J Forrester - Writing and Works 
I loved this piece of poetry and the way you played with words. Great job.
Wonderful! Oh the history behind this piece. So glad you wrote this instead of neglecting us for nanonano.
I’m so glad you joined in, Carol. You brought me back in time with the “echo of cannon fire” and “creaking corsets”. The thought of those walls crumbling until they can speak no more is very sad.
I love the way the poem begins, Carol – I always feel those traces of history in ruins and old buildings, that’s the thrill of visiting them, so your ‘echo of cannon-fire’ drew me in. I love the shadows , whispers and creaks, and the past voices, still contained within the walls. You’ve even captured the scarier ‘thrum of armies’. An evocative poem that I really enjoyed.
I love the juxtaposition between the drama of the past, the wars and passion, to the gentleness of picnicking and tourists… yes this is exactly like the walls would cry.
You totally rocked the prompt ❤️
The ruins do talk in the hiss of the wind, the rustle of the grass, the warmth of the sun and echoes of the past.
You weaved the history of this place cleverly into your poem! Brings in a touch of life.
Love your version of “fried” poetry 🙂 Castles intrigue me too.
I love your words, somehow words of comfort. Walls have much to tell.
Anna :o]
You’ve done this brilliantly. It’s as if the castle walls are actually telling you about its story 🙂
and then there will be no stories for us to tell
and no walls to talk anymore…. Then it will be up to poets like you to make us remember