[stylist] Ghosts of yesterday poem

[Brenda]

Hi Barbara
I'm slowly reading all the submissions and trying to interact with them 
in some form or another.

I liked this poem.  I like your contrast between those that feel haunted 
and those with fond memories at your school.

brenda


On 12/5/2011 4:26 PM, Barbara Hammel wrote:
> Okay, here’s a poem I wrote earlier this year.  After I get done reading the last book in The Earth’s Children series, I intend to try writing more poems—I have my seasons sestinas to finish up—and maybe I can be taught how to write better by taking criticism and change things before I consider it a final draft.
> Here goes:
>
>      GHOSTS OF YESTERDAY
>
>
>
> These hallowed halls are haunted
>
> By the ghosts who, yesterday,
>
> Were the life and breath of Iowa Braille
>
> But now have gone away.
>
>
>
> You can hear their footfalls echo
>
> Off the sturdy limestone walls,
>
> And if you listen closely
>
> You can hear their childish calls.
>
>
>
> Almost a century and a half
>
> Of memories linger here.
>
> As I roam these silent hallways
>
> On my cheek there falls a tear,
>
>
>
> For in the utter stillness
>
> All those children hold their breath,
>
> Their ghostly hearts are terrified
>
> Of their forever death.
>
>
>
> But sometimes in the silence
>
> All those sunny smiles of old,
>
> Overwhelm my heart with gladness
>
> And more joy than I can hold.
>
>
>
> These hallowed halls are haunted
>
> And if you can walk on by
>
> Without hearing or seeing those darlings
>
> Then you haven't ear or eye
>
>
>
> For the history that lingers,
>
> Which we wish to not let go.
>
> But the times they are a-changin',
>
> And you new folks just don't know.
>
>
>
> To you it's just a building
>
> That was built in days of yore
>
> To house and teach blind people,
>
> Nothing less and nothing more.
>
>
>
> The facts of its existence
>
> You can hold inside your head:
>
> What classes were taught and where,
>
> And when and what was fed.
>
>
>
> There are piles and piles of pictures
>
> Of people you never knew,
>
> And lists of names not familiar,
>
> So don't know which goes with who.
>
>
>
> And, frankly, in your forward-looking,
>
> Futuristic sight,
>
> You don't want to think of haunted halls
>
> When you turn off the light.
>
>
>
> You don't want to walk by daylight
>
> And glimpse a little shadow pass,
>
> You don't want to, in the quiet,
>
> Hear light tread of lad or lass.
>
>
>
> You don't want to sense the presence
>
> Of the children we used to be,
>
> All our talk of ghosts that haunt here
>
> Is making you feel creepy.
>
>
>
> But these hallowed halls are sacred
>
> To us oldtimers of the place,
>
> We don't find it creepy to meet
>
> Ghosts of our childhoods face to face.
>
>
>
> Those piles and piles of pictures
>
> Of people you never knew
>
> Have names we find familiar,
>
> We know which goes to who.
>
>
>
> And we know when they attended
>
> And friends they might have known,
>
> And friends of friends who knew them
>
> Till our web of connection has grown.
>
>
>
> This isn't just a building
>
> That was built in days of yore,
>
> To house and teach blind people.
>
> It is ever so much more.
>
>
>
> It was home away from home to us,
>
> This Braille Jail, some would say,
>
> But the grown-ups owed our parents
>
> Safety for us to learn and play.
>
>
>
> These limestone walls and hardwood floors
>
> Hold precious memories
>
> You new folks just can't grasp because
>
> They're not your used-to-bes.
>
>
>
> You never saw it thriving with
>
> The clamor of children at play,
>
> Or with classrooms of children learning
>
> Or large and small kids bowing to pray.
>
>
>
> For you this is an empty shell,
>
> The life has ceased to be,
>
> So you're filling it with strangers;
>
> Crowding out its history.
>
>
>
> Those little lisping whispers
>
> And the steps upon the floor
>
> Are our imagination
>
> That you wish you could ignore.
>
>
>
> But these hallowed halls are haunted
>
> By the ghosts who, yesterday,
>
> Were the the life and breath of Iowa Braille,
>
> But now have gone away.
>
>
>
>
> Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.--John F. Kennedy
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