In mid 79AD the people of Pompei
lost the favour of the gods.
As the population went
about its business
from the mouth of the Vesuvio
came destruction and death.
A glowing cloud of gases,
debris, smoke and ashes
engulfed the city and the masses.
Many sought safety in their homes;
children in the arms of their mothers
others in the clutches of their lovers.
Roofs smashed, buildings crashed.
That day hope vanished, all life perished.
Darkness and silence
fell upon the city for centuries
until its rediscovery in 1738.
For the past two hundred-odd years
the horrors of that fateful eruption
are now slowly being unearthed.
Contorted bodies young and old
caught by surprise, buried alive
under metres of ash and pumice.
Lungs burned, muscles melted,
'n in time organs decomposed
leaving only bone and teeth
and the victims' empty form
encased in compacted ash.
Archaeologists filled the voids
with plaster to create casts;
the victims' last gruesome moments
captured for eternity
to be witnessed by posterity.
Each year thousands are
bewitched by its mysteries and ever unravelling beauty.
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| Writing Prompt |
A poem of 40 lines or fewer with the theme "unearthed".
Poems can rhyme or not. |
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