Poet Tellaferro Poet Free verse

A Figure Stands There Ii

Its skeletal bones bare
Eyes still stare 
All that remains is the soul
A drift as a shadow lingers there
A bare bulb blares
sways absently silently 
in the chilled sliver nights air 
Hollow eyes watch from this home
of ruined deeds 
something struggles
Somewhere it roams
In the garden
In the weeds 
It grows there 
bare deep dark deeds
All that remains is a skeletal something
Feel the drifting breeze 
Lightning strikes here and there
Blinding bright burning out the sight
In the aftermath only images remain
The door sways gently 
The writing on the wall declares it all
Wallpaper tears, 
Portraits stare darkly
I brace for the coming fury
A private holocaust 
All that remains is a skeletal something 
As a figure stands there

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Poet Tellaferro October 10, 2021 at 7:50 PM Poems are like demons (or weeds) of never ending ideas that build till its complete or remove from your soul. I like to think of them as demons, unfortunately these ideas will sprout up in others poems like weeds but have to be recognized and recorded. Sometimes we pull those weeds sometimes they look like “objet d'art” placed nicely to make you go “what-de-fuxk”. But, they take time to weed out or to exercise them from your soul and sometimes is it takes time for new ideas to grow. But, you need to keep weeding or expelling them from your spirit, til then…