A quiet street in Pompeii – image thanks to Paul Vlaar (from Wikipedia)
I tempted Vesuvius to no avail
It stayed quietly sleeping
While I stood there peeping
Down into its crater
With face somewhat pale
Pompeii, a city by its ash entombed
With stones flying, falling
Death came swiftly calling
The remnants in silence
Now tell of those doomed
Slaves sold at the hardware store, tools to be used
Mosaics, frescoes, showing
The temple, bar, knowing
Roads, houses, shops, gardens
Scars* of those abused
I left filled with memories: Fires down below
The frozen life grasping
As fumes left them gasping
Those Romans so gifted
Cruel times long ago.
*The word “scars” refers to vulgar Roman graffiti on the walls of rooms in the brothel at Pompeii
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This is fantastic Jan, vivid imagery which i think fairly reflects the quality of the picture too
Thanks, Richard. I hope all is well with you. It was a fascinating journey back in time.
A lovely poem, Jan.
I never knew about the graffiti. You taught me something today, thank you.
What a moment in history Pompeii was. I can only imagine the terror those people felt. You’ve described the scene very well.
I remember watching a documentary about this once, and the way the pyroclastic flow just overwhelmed them. They had no chance of escaping it.
Thanks, it was an unforgettable experience, which showed how fragile life is.