In the heart of the city stands a structure, tall and grand,
A testament to history, its stones meticulously planned.
Its walls have heard the whispers of a hundred years or more,
A silent guardian of tales, it’s an architectural lore.
Its doors, a portal to the past, swing open with a creak,
Each footstep on its hallowed ground, a story they could speak.
The windows, eyes to souls long gone, gaze out with glassy stare,
Reflecting lives of those inside, their joy and their despair.
A spire that pierces the sky above, a beacon in the night,
Guiding the lost and weary souls, towards the morning light.
Its halls have seen the laughter, the tears of yesteryears,
Echoing the triumphs, and the silently shed tears.
This edifice of stone and brick, a vessel of the past,
Holds memories within its grip, in shadows that they cast.
A school, a home, a haven, a place of trade or cheer,
Its purpose shifts with passing time, year after fleeting year.
So what is this enigma, this keeper of the days?
A building that has stood the test, in so many different ways.
It’s not just mortar, wood, or stone, but life that it contains,
A monument to human will, where history remains.
To guess its form, its function, you may ponder with a frown,
But know it’s more than just a place, it’s where life’s seeds were sown.
A building of significance, in hearts, it will reside,
Forever standing proudly, with its doors thrown open wide.
In response to dVerse Poets Pub’s challenge today to write a poem about a building of your choice, for example: the building in which you live; a building in which you were happy or sad; a favourite shop; a building in which you went to school or worked; a building that made an impression on you. You may write it in any form, but to push yourself that little bit further, you could write your poem in a similar way to Larkin, revealing the building bit by bit, so that the reader has to work out what it is.
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Celestial @celestialkreationz
This is lovely! I enjoyed your take on the prompt. 🙂
I love the way the building may whisper stories from its past… if we learn and listen to stones we may learn.
May I call you Celestial? Welcome to the Poets Pub! I love that you set your poem in the heart of an unnamed city, with no detail, and then really go to town on describing the building. I like that its stones are ‘meticulously planned’ and a ‘silent guardian of tales’, and its windows ‘eyes to souls long gone, gaze out with glassy stare’. The spire is a clue, ‘a beacon in the night, guiding the lost and weary souls’. And the final stanza is a riddle to be solved.