Caer Caradoc
by poetrydiary
Like a grain of sand I cross your banks,
borne on Roman time and tides, too late
to stand and fight, with you, for life.
My feet scour and stir the earth you threw
upon this hill in vain; once proud
projection of your power, erect
(I imagine, at least) but now
soft and conquered, smooth mounds suckling sheep;
slopes made romantic by imagined pasts and feet.
A woman it was, I hear, who did for you at last.
Like a grain of sand I cross your banks,
and shape your fort, and feel your hands;
two thousand years have passed and still
I dream with you.
——————
Caer Caradoc is a hill fort and also a hill in Shropshire, in the West of England. It is named after Caractacus, the Celtic chief who resisted the Roman invasion of Britain in the first century AD, and is supposedly the site of his last stand against the Roman legions. He was betrayed by a neighbouring Queen and taken in captivity to Rome. You can read more about him on Wikipedia and about the hill fort here: Caer Caradoc.
I like castles and fortresses and this poem is one of a series which I haven’t added to for a while. I’ve climbed Caer Caradoc many times, and it is a good place for a last stand.
poetry diary 
As soon as I read the first stanza, I thought “Hot dog! [excuse the Americanism but it seems to work] He’s back with a fort poem. It’s funny how your entire tone changes when you write one of these. Love “smooth mounds suckling sheep” and the last stanza [not line], is wonderful.
Thanks Margo – I will reflect on your comment about tone – maybe I am a frustrated castle-builder (which would be a bit sad in the 21st century!).
Maybe I should also drop the last line…I’ll sleep on it,
Thanks again, and good to hear from you – I thought of you when I wrote it as I know you like these.
There’s nothing wrong with castle building in this era. I think we can use more, but I associate castles with fantasy despite their history. I was rather hoping you would drop the last line. Note I resisted saying so, but you opened the door 🙂
I have deleted it (using a trebuchet, naturally).
Laughing… of course you did. Somewhere my husband has a model trebuchet from his teen years. Ah, you castle men!
I really like this, it’s beautiful, historical yet timeless, it takes me back. Wonderful.
The final stanza struck me as pure inspiration – but then I guess it all was. A perfect read.
i esp. love that last stanza where you walk the place and feel the history, crossing the banks like a grain of sand, feeling the hands…often happens to me when i visit the historical places in Basel, trying to grasp that thousand years ago someone stood in exactly that place and built the walls of the cathedral for example…fascinates me madly..
nice…i like as well…standing on these places and feeling a bit of the history behind them..the lives they once contained or defended…you capture it well in your words.
Ah, and this poem makes ME dream as well…..beautifully penned.
Vivid capture of the sculpture..I like these lines best:
Like a grain of sand I cross your banks,
and shape your fort, and feel your hands;
two thousand years have passed and still
I dream with you.
Great to see you at D’verse ~
Places that anchor us in the world, that define us by their strange intimacy, either by time, memory, or happenstance of landscape, these places that live stop us thpugh we are but grains of sand. This poem has a lyrical quality that really pulls me in. Your emotional attachment to the land and the meaning of this place are vividly affective.
One of the things that really strikes me in this poem is your use of alliteration. It seems to add to the feeling of the place and adds smoothness to the textures of the grain of sand and the fort. Good contrasts.
Interesting piece of history, good rhythm, nice word flow. I always love learning about Roman era history.
This is lovely. The immediacy of your sitting there.
Ruins re always so much better than the complete thing. I loved say, Glastonbury cathedral now and would have hated it in its hey day.Time to build me a folly.
Was it Boedica who did for Cataractus? {sorry}.
Hi Aprille – no, it was a lady called Cartimandua, who was clearly quite a character: see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartimandua, and http://resourcesforhistory.com/caractacus.htm.
Caractacus did manage a whole decade of defiance first though!
Thanks for commenting.
Matthew
mmmm, yes. Very nice, thank you.