"In the Ruins", a Poem

            I have decided to once again rewrite a poem that I liked but wanted to “fix” by using my own word choices and breaking up the structure a bit.  That poem is “in the ruins” by Mark Conway.  I did this as a writing exercise and I hope people enjoy it some.

            Feel free to say in the comments that you like the original more.  Or post a link to your own poetry.  Have fun with poetry.

In the Ruins

We toasted in the remains

ruined buildings providing

cover from the wind and rain

As we sat in caves or wrecked houses

on farms given back to the banks

the sound of current carrying

what was ours away

Listening to men who’d been raised

in ways of rearing that were lost

and we strained to divine

the use of their views

tossed on the pyre of time

They were crazy or passed out

those who could not bear

parting themselves from memories

of a world gone

of a time now nowhere

They came in from the rain

inflamed and dismayed

calm and arcane

they drank to dull the pain

The least one seethed

then wept at tasting the dregs

we drank and waited

waited for something to drop

Gazing and sifting

for signs written in wax

we were young

we knew how to die

but not how to last

A small man raged

he had god in his sights 

white signs and glyphs glowed in his eyes

his fingers moving thru the wet dust

patterns not unlike the stars

that shone on clear nights

In the ruins

to the sounds of rain

they spoke

Like a choir of seraphim

broken winged and fallen

their speech glowing

with gnosis and erudition

We sorted their mad sacred words

these broken minded guides

to the life before

and the life after that

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