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Best Poems Written by Poet Tellaferro

Below are the all-time best Poet Tellaferro poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

A Quiet River

Along a quiet river to nowhere were styx lean like broken crosses. The wind is gentle with a sent of quite decay or is that brimstone in these sinister currents, that spin! A black river between two lands, one of shadows n tombstone and bright sunny skies. The vail is thin...

I terry at the edge of this vast leviathanic river stretching, to pear into shades of deepest waters, were dark things swim... Only fractual waves driven by soft sinister currents, stured by a wind sented with night shade or is that delicate decay. I see things best left unsaid or unseen, in depths of fathomless league’s, I see white orbs teathered to white strings?

Each orb swims into view, eyeless sockets of skulls form out of the gloom, those white lines are bones bare brittle, cling to flesh, as my horror knows no bounds. I stumble back, full of terror, a foul taste, the sinister air brings the strange tinge of brimstone to bare.

Resting to gather my wits, I hear the clack if bones and creek of ores, I squint into the endless a gray cloudy distance, far away, lightening dance! A white shape, in a flowing shadows darkest cloak, flaps in the growing sinister air!

A creek of ferry ores, drifting soundlessly to my ears on oblivions waves. There in the distance, the specter of all humanities fears.

Something wicked this way comes… A grinning facade, a false glee. Only hollows of lifeless sockets, stare back endlessly bleak. The hood only obscures the knowing doom. The skeletal wings drap the reapers shallow form. Rags of the dead flap sinister n silent.

I can stand and only stare, my mouth goes dry, as I can not understand why. What am I seeing, how can this be, this thing I see leagues out to sea? A vision of death, an intagable concept made flesh, before my eyes, my mind wants to takes its leave. I stumble in disbelief. I land on my back, kicking up dead dust, digging rocks or bones into my exposed back.

A sound alien, the distance creek of the coming darkness in alien form, aboard a ferry creeps.

The Screech of breaks. Suddenly! Like a thunderclap out of the blue...

Across the river where Styx’s lean like broken crosses, I see a city rise before my sight a city full of night. lt strobes red and blue and white. I see figures moving too and frow. EMT, Fire, Police, crowds gather like a murder of crows.

Standing, rubbernecking, wanting to watch, gawaking at this accident, a crash of trucks, cars, burning! I see my body there on the macadam bleeding as the Para’s attend me. I look into the city full of darkness, a broken chess board of midnight n white squares. Feeling the Doom Light!

I blink, tears run as a world blurs in watery imagery. I see friends n family swim out of my history. I see my life rush in a breeze of fire and ice. All my loves ,my hates, my bitter memories and rare brightest spots, brighter than most. Flare! Dowsed to black and gray runny feelings. I cling to what I see. As the seas of endless darkest comes to envelop me.

I glance back at the dark figure out on the rivers eves, now pulled to shore of this river of infinity. Were styxs lean like broken crosses n fractal waves driven by soft sinister currents.

A grinning facade, a false glee. Only the hollows of lifeless sockets, stare endlessly back, black and full of mortal doom. The bones glow softly in the darkest light under a tattered hood, as deaths rags flap in a sinister breeze. The horror that stands before me with with an out stretched hand, bones glowing softly in the doom light, reaching....

And since I was too busy to stop for death, death kindly stopped for me…

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Once I Dreamed a Little Dream

it was of someone I once knew
but I did not yet know 
it was of love and kindness 
a union of spirit a familiar soul 
but this was only a dream 
drifting in my night 
my heart takes flight 
during summers sad moments 
all alone in dreams dreamt of you 
I feel you I know you or how you are not
this dream will linger in my heart 
when I awake the sadness returns
a bittersweet feeling of losing something 
unknown in a dream
like the drops of doom 
I could not shake years 
of isolation from my heart 
deep in my soul
were I not to chase the dream 
Would I not know the love of divinities' devotion?
If I don’t try…
…could I survive the inevitable
empty Room…
A soul takes when love breaks.
I pondered why you were sent 
once I found someone 
a time long ago
Someone to have N to hold 
someone I never knew 
I was afraid of it 
afraid it would feel small n fall away 
like my dreams dreamt along the way 
and I will feel weak and lie awake 
wondering why
I would walk in the afterthoughts of you
I awake with the sadness 
from a Dream, I once Dreamt 
of you or someone I thought I knew
It will return as bittersweet feelings
I could not scrub away 
the feelings like bitter thick dew, 
maybe that was my fear
bloody and cruel, 
I could not run from dreams dreamt of you
Afraid it would break a fragile image of you
until I woke and that feeling did not flee
Was not fragile or fleeting like morning dew
As this was reality  
a dark but sweet feeling 
I felt memory cover me
I try not to flee 
I did not want to shake 
your future visions free
As you are sold real mine to hold
years still come and go 
always something new 
And now I will dream a different dream 
of one spent forever with you

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Maybe It Is Death

Darkening of the land of man
Shadows pool into wells as gloom
Solidify into the things best left unseen 
A thing from a different realm
A different reality 
The coming Doom.
A realm between what is known and unseen
We are of this life 
We are in the weakening world
The walkers in daylight
Maybe its’s death
But we are only one side of the coin
We are of one world and our souls the other
The only thing that keeps the worlds apart 
A thing unseen as thin as smoke 
An elusive as a shadow.
Maybe its’s death
Not much separates the two
A heartbeat away
A second reaction
A Fatal attraction 
A crash, a drowning, pull of the trigger 
A moment in between one thing 
And the next a season of shadows 
or light everlasting.
Maybe its’s death, maybe not
What is the difference?
The thin veil between realities
A shifting between the seen and unseen 
In one moment we are talking to our love
The next they are gone beyond where we can transverse
maybe it is Death?
Or a voyage we sea in deep dreams.
Darkening of the land of man
Shadows pool into wells as gloom
Solidify into the things best left unseen 
A thing from a different realm
A different reality 
A realm between what is known and unseen…
The coming Doom.

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Empire Down I

Sing this song of immortality 
This rhythm of life lived in neuro fire
Feel the tone of deep oscillations
Taste the song on tongues divided!

The rise of empire 
The building of the divine 
The godhood of man at the base of creation 
Crucified on crosses of iron, 
Feeling electric columns of fire!

So sing this song of empire and redemption 
Sing the righteous song of rage 
Feeling the rhythm of ages 
Immortality of wings
Rise this jade n gold filigreed crown
Grace this delicate stage
Sing! 

This empire down
Watch the west the coming white
The empress of non & nothing begun
Watch the razored ravens take flight 
Sing! 

This empire down 
This rhythm n rage of life as neurons fire
Crash this bloody ruined crown
Sing this song of immortality!

This!
The righteous song of rage 
Feeling the rhythm of ages 
Empire down!

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Black Sun Version I

Black Sun’s crypt sands,
feeling infernal crimson winds 
ancient galleon sail
Across a brutal bloody land.
Setting on Jagged black
Shores casting far into golden 
Halo’s, burning the horizon cold.

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Alabaster White

Alabaster white, brazen in bold 
can’t be bought or sold!

Silent as it is Sinister 
somehow that alabaster glows?

Surface, a bony texture; cracks, fissures 
like something living once long ago 
in antediluvian halls…

A house sits in its red marrow, bone-white walls!
not knowing tomorrow only knowing what is heralded 
of bone white, gold intricate 
filagree serpentine, imagery!

Of alabaster, old brazen n bold like cast bronze figurines 
of unknown deities calling out 
to touch fingers tips… 

Caress, seeing the texture of bones
cracks n fissures like ancients skulls at rest
this thing of alabaster, cold!
Silently sitting sinisterly.

…alabaster bold somehow defies eons that fold 
alabaster white blazing of an unknown…disaster!                                                       

Cryptic life resting in antediluvian wombs  
a forgotten world borrowed deep 
in the red marrow…tombs!

forgotten by tomorrow pushing faster 
unknown, cold, old encrusted in 
  Ancient 
   ...Alabaster

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Woman of the Wasteland I of III

As I wash these dishes. 
I wash the wishes 
from these tired and ruined hands. 

I look out into the street 
with a thousand yard stare
Eyes lost glazed bare…
I see my children playing 
in these dirty and broken streets 
in an iron wasteland. 

They know nothing of fields
oceans
flowers
or a brilliant sun.

They only know towers of glass, chrome, 
burning cars, n broken neon bars. 
As muddy dark clouds gather, 
ash drifts, trash litters here n there.

Dry thunder rumbles. 
Fragments of yesterday tumbles 
solemnly aloft in desolations winds. 

So with each cruel word.
With each hand across my face…
fuels my hate. 
With each blow each loathsome glance… 

I feel something drying, cracking falling…
Each lie from his lips drives devotion away.

I slice the dry Rye. 
Look out onto the street 
to see my little boys at play…

I need to leave these wasted lands. 
These wastelands of cold hard stares n cruel innuendos…
that hurt like fist across the back of the belove.

I cry each day.
I die a little along the way. 
I die each minute of the passing hour. 

Stones, drop into this broken heart. 
Each stone builds a wall of isolation. 
I drown in the well of bottomless desolation. 

As I look out in to desolations boulevard
I wash these cracked and dirty dishes and wash these wishes from these raw hands n watch my children run in play…

…this iron wasteland.

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

We Dream of Rain I

We dream of rain 
in a dry season 
under the setting sun
We harvest bitter grains, 
Embittered flesh.
Under a tyrannical son, 
we dream of rain in a harsh summer of discontent. 
We watch the harsh mistress of the empirical sun. 
The seeding of the plains 
a White House on desert sands. 
Where a figure fighting the storms stands
in a black dress in a bone-white land. 
The reapers machine burns on the horizon edge
The cold hard weight of a gun. 
My spirit has fled, my wound had bled
We dwell in a madding season in some American empire…

Reprise I

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A Dark Dialogue Pt1 of 3pts

There it sits…
in the dark corner a hollow thing bony arms skeletal

Is it grinning 
There sitting closer in shadow even in Light.
Black Eyes staring. 

Things understand….
Unmoved.
EYES glow like cats in car lights

I wonder…
What are you!
A haunting vestige of hair, all teeth, and bone 

Tumbling down past your shoulders
A dark thing of dark flesh…
Lost to void

A pool of light near your arm
It's daringly too close, fearing to see 
too much too soon...

Light seems to retract?

Feeling your ice drift from you
from your hands
I ask you, “what are you?”
“Where have you been?” 
“Where are you going”?

Skintight skull grinning eyes wide
a dark dialogue I devise
I want to pull you close but the fear is…

You were my ALL, in a former life.
My memories of us once
beautiful, bright, fleeting...

...now just dust drifting 
Your soul is lost,
so is mine?

And only this thing
Sits & grins 
                 sinisterly at me…



















"love not the dead only suffer the living"
Anonymous

Details | Poet Tellaferro Poem

Winters House

WINTERS HOUSE 
Black, bare in despair 
alone to nowhere 
On a corner crossroads to everywhere
Sits a house half-forgotten 
a house full of itself and memories
Dark and Bright in a place out of time
Out of sight, silent and rare.
Haunted with this and that 
winter covers 
its eves, 
only bones of rats 
Broken dolls, toys after a wars drone
Sits and fights the aftermath
Coldwind drifts 
Downy flakes of winter cover its lawn
A frozen frosting in white
Something floats 
aloft adrift in a sea 
of purity infinity, 
its shingles are a miss
The wind is brisk 
Something shutters sits still
Here in the middle of nowhere
In silence of graves 
only Ravens rave of wars
Past victories won 
Birth barely begun 
lives lived out fast
And only the winters last
A winters house full of nothing and everything 
Of fragments of memory, 
furniture tattered, worn 
Bits of cloth, torn 
on drafts born cold wind scorns
Dishes cracked crazy in filigree 
Photographs faded at last
Ferment of history
A winters House