Derelict 2

Well, second post of the day! I have become lazy of late, so I thought it was time to respond to the challenge at d’Verse today.


Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
are removed, destroyed, restored.
Our ruined abbeys and churches are,
as a rule, only too well
tidied up and cleared.
Losing in the process
who can say how much of mystery
and nostalgic awe.
Dust in the air suspended
Marks the place where a story ended.

To create my poem, I have used a mix of poetry and Prose. Poetry from TS Eliot with lines from East Coker and Little Gidding, and the prose is from Dame Rose Macaulay’s Pleasure of Ruins. I’m not sure how well it works, but it was an interesting exercise! And, in the process, continued my earlier theme…


  1. whew…great last line to cap this off….the death of what was…perhaps to progress…they tear down the old to put up the new and shiny…and i do think we lose a bit of mystery…really cool weave….

  2. There’s a controversy in my town, more of a superstition or belief, that once they tore down the old church downtown, nothing will prosper there. So far, this seems true.

    Love how you combined your words to create such a nice poem. Made me a little sad.

  3. Very nice… was it easy for you? 🙂

  4. Laurie Kolp

    Nice… I especially like your ending.

  5. Interesting work, especially so when paired with your earlier photographic posting. Loved that you used lines from East Coker and Little Gidding.

  6. Again, I find myself agreeing with Samuel (I have done so on other sites today) – your work is interesting, particularly with your photographs, and it was inspired to use lines from East Coker and Little Gidding. Nice work. Very.

  7. So true, very nice to meet you.

  8. Deft weaving of lines that makes the deterioration palpable. Well done.

  9. dust, marking the place where a story ended…very cool closure and an intriguing mix as well

  10. Sad to see these magnificent old building become derelict too, isn’t it. Well weaved.

  11. Sad so many magnificent structures are left in ruins and meet the wrecking ball. It makes me wonder if I sat in their rubble if I they would tell me their stories.

  12. Some see them as remnants of arts others an eyesore! What is obvious is a picture of failure for some reasons. Nicely written Sue!


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