The Deserted Village

There’s a road on the hill, leads down to the plain

Where once was a village before the Black Plague,

And the old stone walls that marked off the fields

Lie hidden by the village called Tiverton Lees.

 

Where the gorse has flourished since the old crops died

Laid waste, un-nourished through the countryside,

And the old plough furrows ripple down through the vale

Where the farmhands idled, swilling lunchtime ale!

 

There are marks on the ground, along the main street

Worn smooth by the passages of carts and feet,

And the old foundations of the King’s Head Inn

Lie stark, untroubled, where the men filed in.

 

The land lies fallow by the old cattle byres

While hearthstones, burnt, tell of warm cottage fires,

Of children, spooning at their hot pottages,

And wives, sat darning in their warm cottages.

 

But the mounds, in relief, lie, row after row

And the hillside’s grief sighs, covered in snow,

When the world turned once, and caught at its breath

To visit on the village what they called ‘The Black Death!’

 

Lost, all lost, are the dreams and the tears,

The love that was made, and the hopes and the fears,

There hasn’t been a burial, wedding or a sneeze

For seven hundred years, in Tiverton Lees!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Mark Anthony Games (Hum..]

Ok, I think you are my new favorite writer on Writers Cafe! I have a thing about old places. I have spent my life trying to be noticed but of so many all that remains is ruins, gravestones and tales. Scotland, especially the island bare remarkable hints to the sight, sounds and emotions of the highland clearances. What was all that struggle for now that the weeds and moss grows, now that silence filters through the thorns and now that all that knew of the men and women have thinned and weakened. What can be the point of our existence, other than to leave ruins to inspire and intrigue some future unknowing soul.

[TL Boehm]

hmm. Here in NM there are abandoned places. Ghost towns, ancient settlements - just abandoned and sometimes there is no record of "why" - in this case you address it. The Black death. Life is tenuous.
Well told story.

[eatmills]

I studied the Black Plague in High School. I remember stories of towns that laid in ruins because of this and this poem has painted a very visual image of such a small town.

Bravo!!!

[ROSALIND]

this is for You......
Hello my friends,
I just popped in
to say Hello,
how was your day?
Did anyone greet you
with a nice word to send
you on your way.
When you got home.
Did anyone tell you that
You are special.
That You are God's chosen Bride.
God sees He hears
God knows all the very hairs on your head.
You are a Royal priesthood.
When you walk down the road
and you feel helpless, Don't
For the father sees all your tears
of sadness and all your Years of pain.
The Father waits for you.
As if You were the only one
Waiting?
Why not give your life to him.
And believe me when I say this.
You will not regret it no not ever...


© 2012 ROSALIND

[Helena]

The Black Death conjures in my mind all sorts of terrible images. What a frightening travesty that happened so many years ago. I'm glad I didn't live then! You have done this proud with the usual superb descriptive stanzas and a damn good story! Bravo!!

[Loner]

David u should start writing novels yr details are so explicit
that it takes the reader into another world .... awesome write.

[HaleythePoet]

This story is so vivid that I could picture it while reading it. I absolutely love it. Thank you for sending me a request for it.

[Valentine]

This sounds like your version of a real story of old...is it? I know some of your writing comes from the past of all of the lands you have beeen in..but the Black Deqth sounds familiar..Another great write from the master..I have so many DVD's of English tales..I love them and also the scenery of Yorkshire and SWcotland..Keep them coming please..loce and God bless..Kathie

[Kristallo]

So poignant, the rise and fall of so many tiny villages, all the remnants of people lost to the cold winds of time. My imagination was so satiated by your brilliant imagery, flawless and masterful story telling is a talent you've harnessed well. I loved this poem, like all others i've read from you, it's remarkable story telling with fluid and unbroken construction. Brilliant poem. I so enjoyed reading.

[Tate Morgan]

This seems to have a mythical sense to it. I can imagine it in my mind. There the locals tell the tales don't go near this place lest you seek the ancients wails. Seems we have a short memory humans that is.How many lives villages legends grew up lived their lives suffer and died? We have forgotten more than we ever remembered. Such is the truth of humanity. I loved it