Statues

  

 Statues

 

These rain-stained statues of the famous,

visited only by passing pigeons now.

General whatever his name is;

he really wished to be remembered, somehow.

Now he has no more people to kill

they've rebuilt his memory in stone.

He looks down on all the people still,

but goes through eternity alone.

There, a politician, suddenly sincere,

his arms raised into the sky;

they say there's s a reason he was placed just here,

but nobody now knows why.

Statues, ornaments on the mantlepiece of Time,

all of these commemorative stones;

the perfect way to hide a dirty deed or crime,

an imitation of limbs and bones.

Statues are mere vanity projects

for those, long gone, who, however dead,

cannot accept just being objects;

who, somehow, contrive to live instead.

 

Stuart McFarlane

 

Stuart McFarlane has spent many years, both abroad and in the UK, teaching English. In the UK this mainly involved teaching Esol to refugees and asylum seekers. He is now semi-retired and so can devote more time to writing poetry. He has had several poems published in local magazines and in online publications such as Borderless Journal, based in Malaysia and Culture Matters, The Recusant, New Verse News and Dissident Voice, based in the UK.