Dark-vowelled smoking columns aspire ruin
as dust-tongued, forested roof caves innavely;
water-spoken island surrenders to timbers
of flamed and lillified heaven-circling pyre.
Aghast of tragedy, fire-dwarfed gargoyles are
hearting a tear-culled Paris in hymnally tone
to dignify bell-voiced ash of towering ages;
above rubble, The King’s cross, power-gilded stands.
Linking to dVerse poetics with Laura Bloomsbury and loving the hyphenate-coined words by poet Dylan Thomas (as featured in my poem).
a poem in my pocket 
Apr 18, 2019 @ 16:46:45
Nicely captured !
Apr 18, 2019 @ 14:54:36
There is something so sad and unique with a burning cathedral… thankfully it seems like most will be saved.
Apr 18, 2019 @ 22:01:11
Yes, I’m glad they can salvage and hopefully repair this magnificent building.
Apr 18, 2019 @ 14:25:12
That middle line is so potent, with the flames circling around the “heaven” of the cathedral. Great word choices.
Apr 18, 2019 @ 14:44:51
Thank you, Jade.
Apr 18, 2019 @ 14:46:13
You are welcome.
Apr 18, 2019 @ 06:04:21
interesting shape to your poem and a sad but current theme.Excellent use of the word compounds here:
“water-spoken island surrenders to timbers
of flamed and lillified heaven-circling pyre;”
Apr 18, 2019 @ 14:44:15
Thanks for your comments, Laura, and an interesting prompt!
Apr 18, 2019 @ 04:11:02
aaaah. such a vivid tribute capturing the horror of the event.