Conversation Among The Ruin's (Ruins Upon Ruins) Poem by The First Shrike

Through portico of my elegant house you stalk
With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit
And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net
Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.
Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak
Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light
Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight
Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break.

Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock;
While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit
Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot,
Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic:
Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate,
What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?

Sylvia Plath



Ruins Upon Ruins


That both of us

hath wrought
Into
our elegant house

I walked
by invitation
only

Whirlwinds
wild fury

I say did we both

Nought did I
so solemnly
speak
nor wish to
unfold
to thee

That which all know
have privy to see
agreed

The birds
all there colors
fashion
still hold
yet he
himself
through peace
chose to
speak
unto me

I know
If a child
I was
and thou
bewitched
me so
you did
then there
the right you
gave to me

The right called
love
I spent upon
thee

For untruthful told
words found
in time

Would soon
have both us
crying

Yet unto the two
of us through
light
we still keep
trying

A tragedy
is not that
of which I
seek
but
simple
understanding
made upon
peace

Estate bankrupt
as so
spoken by
you
can just as easily
be
respune again
diplomacy
in words
doth bring

Intertwined
the two again
saith you

Speak the
truth
pray tell to all
It doth
end well
repose

Think good


James E McLain Jr.

The First Shrike