Statues

by Stuart McFarlane / February 16th, 2025

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 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 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 poems published in local magazines and online publications such as 'Borderless Journal', based in Malaysia and 'Culture Matters' and 'The Recusant', based in the UK. Read other articles by Stuart.

This article was posted on Sunday, February 16th, 2025 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.