poetry and prose about place

abandoned buildings

with 2 comments

We are living in a time when many of our older buildings are reaching the end of their useful lives. Old churches, old covered bridges, old schools and old houses are everywhere, facing the indignity of old age. So many succumb, end up in landfills or as rotting derelicts. Yet these are buildings where history whispers. Buildings with stories to tell, our stories.



abandoned church


highbush cranberry

first, fruit hard and green

then, red, ready for wine

then shriveled raisins

hang on a leafless vine


the wick of a candle stub

competes with cobwebs

for thickness, thin sunlight

oozes, amber glass, a saber

along the empty aisle

threatens motes

in stale air undisturbed

where stray wind never

finds its way


deconsecrated and so

not desecrated when mice

squeeze under the threshold

gnaw at the pulpit, or when

vines whisper

vague obscenities

at the lintel, tap on glass


stripped of cross and steeple

people, prayers

stained glass and benches

removed and sold at auction

mice pause at their industry

to assess ambiguous whispers


the young girl who sat on the stair

sang a song to her mother

the warden who argued to fix

the seep in the roof

the Minister

who stuttered




Copyright Jane Tims 2018

Written by jane tims

March 5, 2018 at 7:00 am

2 Responses

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  1. Jane, that is so beautiful. You have captured that feeling when you see these reminders of past days and put it into words.


    Gail Pilgrim

    March 5, 2018 at 1:56 pm

    • Hi Gail. Thanks. Your awareness will have been heightened by all you saw down-under. Jane


      jane tims

      March 5, 2018 at 7:44 pm

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