When Our Monuments Burn

Fire-dwarfed we all sit,

stand, wait,

drawing along timelines

scythe-eyed for news

or perhaps revelation

that this is all

just a dream, a joke.


Dust-tongued our words

dry up like sand

through an hour glass.

All gone and past

leaving only empty air.

A promise

cracked apart.


History pour out,

breaks the damn of grief

and dark-vowelled words,

replacing now with then

as what will be

already spread its roots

in the tear-culled.






      1. For about a month I was helping my elderly parents move. Not exactly “enjoyable” but it’s nice to have them in safe housing nearby. I got home yesterday, and it was great to start visiting blogs again. 😀

  1. /all gone and past, leaving only empty air/–nice. I, too, worked with the burning of Notre Dame. Amazing to read so many different takes on the DT compound words.

  2. pertinent and up-to-the-minute with this one Carol – excellent use of the word compounds but I loved your own too “drawing along timelines
    scythe-eyed for news”

  3. You’ve captured the stunned atmosphere of yesterday evening in this poem, Carol – fire-dwarfed and scythe-eyed fit perfectly, and ‘leaving only empty air’ made me gasp.

  4. I think one does feel fire-dwarfed. There is a feeling of helplessness as this huge historical landmark crumbles. There is definitely a shift from then to now.

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