Author Archives: Tony Single

happy haw

& god make a fist one day
pulled a rib & make a lady
left a hole inside her that
mortal hunger ne’er could fill

then god make the other fist
custom fit for hungry holes
for to grease her up three ways
make muppets out of one & all

but i’s wise to him
that abba father ain’t no good
& devil plum misunderstood

& why that devil my lover?
in case anybody say
it cos he swear by consent
got a lovin’ temperament

the devil be my lover
yes is yes & no mean no
he hold me in our afterglow
he ain’t the beast they say

but i’s wise to it all
that abba father ain’t no good
& devil plum misunderstood

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

lungfish

eyes of sand awash in a trench of tears
all i could do was sink & sift & wait
with crosscurrents of ancient memories

deserts flooded without, grain by grain
pupils flooded within, shard by shard
a tessellation of guarded hope

& i saw the turtles all the way down
& i saw the elephants falling asleep
thoughts of the flat disced earth beneath
felt soothing to my feet

i was a vision of tombs & flower voids
of dormant dolls raptured from the womb
of shallows, sunken barrows & undertows

yet above so below, steps & high walls
strewed worlds of cavernous possibility
all this in dim view of my timorous reach

& i saw the turtles all the way down
& i saw the elephants drowse in the deep
thoughts of the flat disced earth beneath
felt soothing to my feet

i breached into this world from deathless waters
& will dissolve in the chasm with time when i’m done
but for now let me take at least one lungful, if not the horizon

the longest voyage begins with the first stroke
then on to scurvied teeth & the bruises of experience
let the steady plash of oars be the sound of our freedom

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

real poets can’t count

is this a haiku
or just another tanka
we’re phoning it in
but no one answers the call
and we’re still unselfaware

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

hope or die

a hopeful tanka
behold its hopeful glory
yup, it’s full of hope
ushering in a new year
with more hope than you can stand

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Christmas. by Thomas Frederick Young

Old father Time, his cruel scythe
Has swung full oft around,
Since last the merry Christmas, bells
Rang out their cheerful sound.
With cruel vigor he has held
His great, impartial sway,
And many thousands mown to earth,
Who saw last Christmas day.

For some have left this world for aye,
Who dwelt with us last year;
Glad voices heard amongst us then,
We never more shall hear.
But still we’ll build our Christmas fires,
And sing our Christmas songs,
And for one day forget our griefs,
Our failures and our wrongs.

Then ring, ye joyful bells, ring out;
Ye crashing cymbals fall;
And for old Christmas, hale and stout,
Sound up, ye harps and all.
Let music’s loud and sweetest strain
Beat from our hearts each ill;
Let thoughts of those assuage our pain,
Who are around us still.

Oh, winsome maid, oh, hearty youth,
I urge you on to glee,
For, in your innocence and truth,
You all are dear to me.
Nor youth, nor age should cherish gloom,
And voices oft should sing,
So give the gladsome voices room,
And let the joy-bells ring.

by THOMAS FREDERICK YOUNG (1892-1940)
Public Domain Poetry