The Bard - Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 86: THE BARD

They said,

No one knew why all his verses were sad

and written under the Moon's silvery stares,

in the darkest hours of the night

when bats and owls

glide about hooting and awakening ghosts.

They said,

No one knew why he squats

in a corner of the room

breathing in the fumes of candlelight

like sweet smelling savour

Musing...

Lost in a distant thought,

Eyes bloodshot,

A cup of coffee black and bitter

waiting to crawl down his empty stomach

where words are rung out

through the anus of inquisition.

Somewhere faraway,

a book of his verses,

tucked away under the pillow of lonely and sad girl,

Whispered answers into the ears of cold walls

Of battles he fought,

Of her never ending cold wars

with depression.

There, his book of books lie

assimilated into her teary eyes:

It's rough edges

It's damp pages

It's littered letters laid out on lean lines

Dangling

Struggling

It said,

"He came

He saw

He concurred"

They said,

No one knew why his verses were always sad,

but she knew better

They are her lifeline.

#365DaysOfPoetry

#Pengician

#SSA

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