St. Augustine

I went to visit St. Augustine with my family over the break, and this kind of came to me, very heavily inspired by the architecture there.

The line is drawn in the sand

with shells scattered'

stones tattered

coquina stout and strong

 

A row of houses stands defiant

to tourism's last throughs

across the street a vine grows

will it reach?

 

Cars pass over it calmly, cutting it short

the buildings live another day

on their porches children play

their walls rotting alive

 

A division stands between them

a world of dilapitation

a force of antiquitation

the difference is not so simple as you think

 

The homes are ancient

but life scars

time mars

When the old is beautifull

it proves it has never lived

Author's Note

Tell me what you think it means as well as yyour ever welcome criticism, please.

Reviews

[redd Brick Keshner]

Somehow there "feels" a subtle self-contradiction as the reader goes through each line. I cannot point out exactly what it is just yet. I like how "in the moment" this poem is. Maybe to tighten the poem, we could use a bit of a connective for the line drawn and what is on either side of that said line... make the comparison and contrast a bit more vivid. "Will it reach?" is also floating quite a bit... wondering where it fits or what it pertains to. I love the last stanza but hope I am wrong in my reading that the very beauty of this place is what has brought it down (having never lived?). I will read this again when I am in a different state of mind and see if I am receiving the poem differently. My grandmother just passed away and that may be skewing my perception and reception. Cheers.

[Emily B]

it's been years since I visited there, but your words brought the experience back

[Sam Davidson]

This is an awesome poem, it's rhythm is excellent, your choice of words perfect. As to what it means... correct me if I'm wrong but I think you're talking about how this place will out-last the people there. It's "rotting alive" walls will survive "tourism's last throws", because it has a feel to it that's separate from any one time, from any one zeitgeist.

You catch a real feeling of something here, something poignant but ultimately personal; but you share that sense (maybe of nostalgia) with the reader.

It seems that you empathise a little with this place, it's solidity, it's dignified deterioration. With all of this changing life going on outside, this place just goes through it's own cycle, changing but unchanged.

I'll check out some more of your stuff later on.

SD.