Heathen

 Heathen

 

Take note of these splinters of rough shale and bone

Each numbered and labelled here

Safe behind toughened glass

 

For these now redundant relics were

Most surely once

State of art technology and designed to steal breath

 

Take note too of these ancient tallow proofed

Water stained and warmed cave walls

Where back in the day we lived and hunted

 

Yes how we lived and roamed and loved

Until our hearts and our bellies were contented

 

It was here that once magnificent beasts

As big as London buses so they were

Did roam free

 

Now though I see only ghosts of them

In smoke from long house chimneys

 

Yet it is here I still see and taste a flake

Of you my love

Here too where a slice of me remains

 

Mid these clay masks and Coptic jars

Each filled with dried black blood and honey

Now sealed for eternity

 

It is here I see bronze nails and glass beads strewn

My old obsidian blade discarded

A single broken femur gnawed and drilled through

 

Here and there shards of painted pot remain

Fur and feathers have long since gone though

 

And although our residue and ancient DNA

Is still openly displayed precisely where we left it

It does not feel right nor like our home

 

Tis here my love they queue to stare through

Toughened glass and still they dare to call us both

Primitive and heathen

 

 

 

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

This is a wonderful write. I tried to date the time period but gave up as it could be covering many. Museums displaying their archaeological finds of peoples who lived so long ago. And the tour guide, in your poem, none other than the ghost of one of their kind. I really liked the reference to redundant relics once being state of the art technology. One day we ourselves will become the primitives. And we call them heathens with what religion has done to the world in more modern times. Your lines are packed with things to ponder on. Such an interesting read Neville.

Chris

[Neville]

Thank you Chris, I am so pleased that you found this post interesting and it made you think... I am more than made up with your very kind and reasoned comments here, many thank you's indeed... N

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

Neville, I am so pleased you have used archaeology to pen the lines in this wonderful poem. When I read the lines referencing the brass nails, the femur bone drilled through and the cave walls, I immediately think of our ancestors and the path they left to give us a view of the past. Your poem is a tribute to their lives. An excellent write, Neville. :-)

[Neville]

you honour these words by commenting upon them so.. and on their behalf, I thank you... Neville

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

You're welcome!

[Neville]

in that case, I shall thank you again.. thank you again..

[Mrudula Rani]

An ancient spirit contemplating at the turn of events! He is still lingering on about his remains!
I always wondered what happened to the intelligence and energy that once roamed this earth, when beasts were as big as London buses.. .. now I know, they are staring at us in disbelief! brilliant writing, dear Neville.

[Neville]

Thanks M.. again you are too kind... funny innit, I have often wondered that very same thing.. great minds eh.. Neville :)

[Mrudula Rani]

Yours is definitely a wonderful and great mind,my friend. Abrações.

[Neville]

now that is strictly a matter of opinion, my friend :) N

[angel]

I once read, back in the 70's, I think, a Reader's Digest article about archeologists digging up a motel room, centuries from now.Some of the conclusions they were drawing about the articles they found in there were hilarious. It was meant to be funny, that article, but it made me wonder what people of the future would think of our modern technology, some of which is so obsolete even now.
Today, we call that stuff 'vintage', but we still remember its true function; what will someone, thousands of years from now, digging in an archeological site, think when he comes across a cell phone, or a toaster?
I wish I could remember more about that Reader's digest article! All that sticks in my mind (typically) is that the toilet seat was thought to be an article of religious ceremonial significance, a sacred relic.
Thanks for the memories, Neville! I must wonder, though, if I am being dense and missing your point entirely.

[Neville]

Thanks angel & muchly so.. I think you are far too sharp to miss the point, or anything in fact... Neville x