The Great Fire of London
Yet still it made a rise from the ashes, like an Eagle
The Great Fire of London
Through narrow streets where embers crept,
A restless city burned and wept.
From Pudding Lane the flames took flight,
And turned the dark to dreadful light.
The air grew thick with acrid smoke,
As timbers cracked and towers broke.
The river watched with molten eyes,
Reflecting fire upon the skies.
Men cried for water, hands in vain,
As heat consumed each street and lane.
The churches fell, the markets groaned,
A city’s heart to ash was honed.
Yet from the dark, a spark remained,
A whisper where the fire had reigned.
Through dust and ruin, magic spun—
And London rose with morning’s sun.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
You told the entire tale in a poem with so few words. I would read this to my children as a history lesson.
That is why they Britain is Great Britain. Good job.