Monday, 14 April 2025

COLOSSEUM... (My poem about visiting the Colosseum in Rome, 2004...)

 Colosseum…

(Thoughts about my visit in 2004…)



Warrens of stone walls

Beneath ground-level

Overgrown with tufts of pale grass.

Seemed too empty.

No echoes of roaring beasts

Nor reminders of lamplit gore,

Nor screams of the lacerated,

Nor smells of death

And fetid entrails…

No.

Just cold apologies for corridors.

The sad warrens of foreign walls…


Crumbling of immense walls

Within stadium confines

Weathered by time and rain.

Seemed too stark.

No soul-rending deja-vous,

Nor memories of combat,

Nor excruciating pain,

Nor pangs of death

And falling into a void…

No.

Just cold misery for my surroundings.

The sad crumbling of foreign walls…


Pete Ray





As a teacher in Birmingham’s Museum & Art Gallery, I would often produce sessions in role as a Centurion, Petronius Fortunatus, who visited Britain twice during his unusually long lifetime and children were able handle artefacts…



I was a little disappointed by the Colosseum, I guess, which contained modern seating for the next concert recital… 






No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.