Burnt Out
No one saw him come or go,
he just appeared
jerking around - a mute puppet on fire.
His strings must have been thin
too thin to hold a flame
or maybe like his eyes, they were fire resistant.
Some said he had been a great person,
a man who had tried too little,
but obviously was always above the heads
of the casual onlooker.
Some claimed that he had reached too high,
a reach that he could not sustain -
had ignited a jerky flame.
Women likened him to passed lovers
ones now much disparaged on social media.
'He can’t dance, never could; look
even now, being only a pair of eyes
dangling on two strings, yet still
he can’t dance; anyway
not the way we want him to'.
Eventually, as a solar flare will flame out,
or as an unpublished poem will,
if disparaged too long on social media
he went bossa nova.
No one saw him dance away
his fiery eyeballs and strings
burning now sight unseen.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment