The Ghost in Springfield's Past

Abe Lincoln still walks these one way streets

once paved in cobblestone.

His spectral gaze rests upon remnants

of sagging brick chipped maroon.

Cracked mortar patterns stretch five stories high

cloaked in green moss and strings of vines.

Tumbleweeds blow down deserted roads

in the form of conservative suits and ties;

preaching politics, (the only form of industry),

in the heart of a city that should have died.

Instead it clings to  a crumbling foundation

built around a man who fought,

and whose very life was robbed, 

because of a vision for the future.

A city laid out like an old woman in a hospital bed.

Waiting in a dull, grey room; courting transformation.

Pleading separation from all that was known before.

Fear engulfs those,

who in loving concern, seek to hold her here,

prolonging the inevitable with life support.

Ruinous erosion painstakingly replaced

with perfect replicas of the past.

Death waits with increasing impatience

persuading with brutal pressure and pain.

Writhing in agony unbearable,

the piteous old woman complains,

wailing in a moan we still refuse to hear...

"Release me.  I have no grace in age beyond time.

I am an open grave waiting with an inscribed epitaph

upon my crumbling tombstone...

SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS

Home of Abe Lincoln

Dead Since 1865"

Author's Note

This is a poem I dug out from 20 years ago. It brought a smile to face because it brought back a memory of my hometown. Interestingly enough it has been built up some 20 years later, although I do believe its only source of industry is politics and Abe Lincoln still.

Reviews

[richieb]

Great description and imagery throughout your poem. Your writing tells how Time has a powerful hold on keeping things the same yet still causing change as years go by. I always enjoy your writing.
Richie B.

[Auxiliosophiae]

A poem that shows just how the tragic loss of town's star child can have a lasting effect on the city itself.
I'm not a big poetry reader but this was very good and written in an intriguing point of view.

[Cyndy Robinson]

Thanks so much!