abandoned meeting house
~
~
the meeting house
~
~
crooked clapboards
doors nailed shut
remember
~
they argued
into the supper hour
words threaded, knotted
~
violent voices
eyes wool, ears cotton, lips
flax flayed to linen
~
over wages paid
to the man who splits
the wood, stokes the fire
~
at home, needles
slid, silent, through layers
of quilting
~
women forgot their thimbles
pricked thumbs
left blood on fabric
~
~
Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
nichepoetryandprose 
A beautiful old building and a sad tale. 🙂
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Rebecca
November 6, 2014 at 6:53 pm
Hi Rebecca. Thanks! Jane
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jane tims
November 7, 2014 at 11:31 am
It is intriguing how you have woven and stitched together the history of discord and wounding with the final image of quilting and the blood. I love the subtlety of this. And the great photo.
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Carol Steel
November 6, 2014 at 7:15 am
Hi Carol. Now that I have finished my ‘harvesting colour’ manuscript, I’m going to return to the ‘abandoned’ theme. Lots of subject matter out there! Are you going to Word Travels? Jane
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jane tims
November 6, 2014 at 5:39 pm
The picture of the old meeting house is hauntingly beautiful. And, I liked how the poem made the story of the building come alive. .
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Sheryl
November 6, 2014 at 12:35 am
Hi Sheryl. These old buildings could tell such stories. I like the way you include images of the buildings that Helena knew. Jane
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jane tims
November 6, 2014 at 5:38 pm
Thank you for the kind words about A Hundred Years Ago. They are greatly appreciated.
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Sheryl
November 7, 2014 at 1:37 am
fabulous combination!
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kiwiskan
November 5, 2014 at 2:52 pm
Hi. As I drive around, I see these abandoned buildings. I think about the voices that rocked those buildings in the past! Hope you are warming up down there below the equator! Jane
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jane tims
November 5, 2014 at 4:50 pm
We are thank you Jane
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kiwiskan
November 5, 2014 at 6:55 pm