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Ruins

Crumbling cement stairs are overpowered by vines
And various plants that had grown out too far.
Leaves of purples, reds, and greens spread themselves
Outward, covering fractions of the steps.

Behind a forest of birch and willows
Stands the magnificent cottage,
With boarded up windows and a weather beaten porch.
The white paint flakes off with the slightest touch.

Moss hugs the roof with love,
The sides of the house each have a tile patio
That wraps around to the back,
With paths leading to gardens.

The flower garden on the right is blossoming
And flourishing even without care.
Daffodils and sunflowers, daisies and tulips
Among other flora cluster in the square, surrounding a dry fountain.

The vegetable garden on the left, however,
Is in worse decay than the house.
Dead plants, withered and wilted, litter the black soil with death,
Weeds dominate the nutritious plot.

But the backyard of this cottage is serene,
Peaceful, and well-kept for being abandoned.
It has foot trails jetting off of its deck,
Trees of all kinds everywhere.

One trail leads to a pond big enough to swim in,
But small enough to be a secret hideaway
To escape the havoc of the world.

A second leads to a bubbling brook in a secluded
Confinement of bushes and trees.
Reeds and rushes spring up near its source, and it continues
To twist farther from the trails.

The third, and perhaps best,
Leads to two things:
A potting shed,
And a walled garden.

The potting shed is typical, but charming
And roomy,
The fragrant aroma of every season clinging to the walls,
The care of a gardener embracing the air.

This walled garden reminds me of that in a certain book.
Just as I imagined it to be, glorious and thriving,
Golden streaks of sunlight pouring in,
The leaves soaking every ray up.

Although most perfect of all this splendor
Was the interior of the house.
Dusty, and a distinct scent acquired by a building shut up for too long,
The structure gave its joy and warmth.

Floorboards cracking and loose,
The swirling staircase missing three or four stairs at a time,
Cabinets and countertops that had collapsed upon themselves,
Furniture with broken legs and shredded upholstery.

The mantelpiece still held old photographs,
Faded and worn,
Barely a distinguishable image upon the paper.

In the study, there is a desk, with a typewriter
That still has a sheet on it, with print upon it,
Unfinished work.
Books clutter the shelves in disarray, no organization whatsoever.

A box of letters and other correspondence
Sits lonely in the windowsill,
The lid not secured, but at an angle.
Though one would expect the contents to be preserved and ready to be read,
Inside that first box was a metal one, locked with no key in sight.
Shaking it vigorously only produces a sound of rustling papers.

Maybe at the end of the day it doesn't really matter
If we find the answers, but rather that when
Night is falling we have learned to accommodate
And love those empty,

Those lost,
And that like the house,
Give all there is to give,
And when all is said and done,
We will have lived as full a life as the house,
But not be through with life.

Author notes

I edited it after a few comments pointed out a few things to me, I appreciate the input. Edited again but not exactly to the advice, it didn't seem to work too well.

for the contest: Too Busy For The Cause?

A contest entry

Please tell me what you think

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Comments

1 - 10 of 10

  • abuyi
    January 13, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    its interesting now.. But its very direct
    loads of "i" in second last Para u can avoid that, you can rephrase it using less words and represent it in a much better flow
    i get what you are tying to imply here but some sentences are awkward such as
    "That from year to year as I watch the world"
    "And that like the house"

    just to give the idea i would rephrase the last two paras to my taste just to present my point, i am sure you would do a much better attempt.. hope it helps you in understanding

    @'walking away from this hallowed place
    I wonder why it has struck me so,
    as I can return to the reality which is familiar to me,
    somehow I feel it is a part of me,
    as years pass by I watch this world and
    grow with it to love and accommodate the emptiness,

    Lost,
    like that cottage,
    I will give all I have to give,
    And when all is said and done,
    I will live as full as how the house lived,
    But that be not enough to be through
    With life.'@



    • katie-jo
      January 13, 2008
      Edit | Reply
      Wow, I see what you mean, and I like the way you are rephrasing it, it makes more sense. Do you mind if I edit it in the way you said it?

  • abuyi
    January 13, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    nice imagery i could imagined the whole place.. your description was beautiful, vivid and well thought

    what I dint like was that after reading there was nothing much to ponder in the end its just an empty abandoned cottage.. I agree with Northern raven's comment- content is more important than the aesthetics of the piece, so you should focus on other things than just characteristics.. try to show more how that cottage relates to us or anything relatable .. How its beauty was nourished but not cherished

    Well "weather beaten” "foot trails “are two separate words and fix the typo "mantelpiece"

    Thanks for entering my contest and best of luck

    abdulla zakir


    • katie-jo
      January 13, 2008

      Edit | Reply
      I appreciate your comment and fixed my typos. I also edited the ending so that there is something to relate to. Let me know if it makes sense, and thank you so much for your thoughtful comment .



  • The Hidden Darkness
    July 19, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    good poe, good luck in the contest


  • Profesh
    July 13, 2007

    Edit | Reply

    Lucidly elegant.

    The one thing that strikes me as detracting from the efficacy of your (otherwise impeccable) eulogy to a haven of rustic architecture: repetition of the word 'love'. In its first instance it is poignant; in the second, lacklustre.

    Notwithstanding, this is a finalist. Let it be said also that I have never before witnessed such virtuosically spare and poignantly understated use of assonance. Well done.

  • Nicole Hanna
    July 6, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Very descriptive. I felt like I was walking through the ruins myself, trying to understand its history and its story. You've sort of created a story for it, while still allowing the reader to make something up themselves. I really enjoyed that about this piece. Thank you for entering.


  • N.W. Clerk
    July 4, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Reading this poem, I felt like an intruder. Like I had come upon some hidden place where some else should've been, but wasn't, and I was tiptoeing through stealing glances at the abandoned home.
    Although a little choppy in places, I enjoyed the overall story.


  • Northern Raven
    June 18, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    This poem produced a vivid image in my mind of a cottage and garden that hard been abandoned suddenly, as if some dramatic event had happened to cause the inhabitants to leave at a moments notice. Who knows what that event could have been? It’s unexplained and leaves the reader something to ponder on.

    There appears to be one central image of the cottage from which all the others evolve, a flower garden, vegetable garden, back yard, a pond, a bubbling brook, potting shed and a walled garden, all in varying states of decay. While reading about each specific area around the cottage I built up the impression that the author of this piece had written it from imagination, and though it’s effective in most areas of description I think some of the images need to be given more consideration. For example, as a keen gardener myself, I know that sunflowers don’t grow in the same season as daffodils and tulips, but then I’m in the UK where we have more definite distinctions between seasons. Maybe elsewhere they are more undefined. I was also a little puzzled by ‘The fragrant aroma of every season clinging to the walls, / The love of a gardener embracing the air”. Potting sheds do not tend to be fragrant when abandoned by their loving gardener for a long time. The concept of the walled garden thriving was quite pleasing to see because when gardens are left uncared for, they wildness they attain is often more beautiful than those carefully crafted. Natural areas have beauty of their own that doesn’t compare with man made.

    The images created inside the house were pleasing and I could almost smell the “Dusty, and a distinct scent acquired by a building shut up for too long” The most striking part for me was the attention to the smaller details such as the photographs being barely distinguishable and the box lid being at an angle. It gave the impression of walking slowly round the house, taking in every minor aspect of the place.

    Though I enjoyed the content of the poem, it felt very much like reading a narrative in the manner that it’s presented here, which leaves me wondering about its overall construction as a poem. I think it would benefit from a rewrite and while the content is more important than the aesthetics of the piece, I think the flow and overall look would improve if the lines and stanzas were adjusted.

    Thank you for entering the Raven Contest 2007 and good luck with your entry! Your work may also be viewed by other Raven judges.

    Northern Raven

    • katie-jo
      December 29, 2007
      Edit | Reply
      I didn't really limit myself to what the seasons grow, but rather I imagined what blooms would look best there.

1 - 10 of 10