Category Archives: AWARDS & OTHER POSTS

Open-Source Poetry Three #3

Our dearest Writers and Readers,

Guess what? Now we feel like teachers in a classroom full of naughty children! Albeit genius children. We gave you a mere few lines and you went running off with them like they were a pair of sharp scissors!

Once we showed our admiration for the poetic maverick geek that is the Great Von, you started to bomb us with your boundless creativity and flagrant disregard of the rules. Are we cross with you all? No! We love it!

BUT—and we say this with a dull tone, adjusting the glasses on our noses—you need to be reminded of the rules. Do you hear us, MiamiMagus, David Koblentz, gregorystackpole, rebel1955 (yes, you’re a real rebel!)? Your submissions were lovely, but alas we cannot accept them!

There’s nothing for it. We shall have to keep you back after class for detention. And you shall write the following line one hundred times: ‘captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter’. As for you, Peter Pondering, you may go leave early. Yes, as the originator of this line, you get to cut class before the bell rings! Lucky boy!

Oh! But before that we need to remind you of the rules and reveal our next line. We hope you’ll be more diligent next time! (Such naughtiness!)

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter
captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter

their harpoons at the ready, of fearsome size

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE, RUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER & PETER’S PONDERING
© All rights reserved 2019

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Daedalon by J.R. Ackerley

Aye, I am foolish for I know
That I shall sadden when you go,
And I am blind because I see
That you were more than God to me:
A brighter sun than Heaven’s shone
When I was with you, Daedalon.

Can I find strength enough to stand
The last slight pressure of your hand;
Can I find fortitude to bear
The knowledge that you are not there,
Then turn my Book of Life upon
The memory of Daedalon

Remember you! No, no, I’ll shut
The Book, or from its pages cut
The image of you graven there,
The dingy tangle of your hair,
Your ill-kept hands and lifeless face,
And seek friends in some other place.

Forget you? … When my heart repeats
Your wisdom to me as it beats? …
That always you may be the same
My rhymes shall vivify your name …
Aye, cunningly I’ll play upon
The happy name of Daedalon.

But you were cold to me, I know,
Who never dreamed my thoughts to show,
But sat content to hear you speak,
And see the bronzeness of your cheek,
Your sunburnt nose and wounded eye …
But never told you, no, not I.

Yes, I am blind; but still I saw
The beauty of you all the more,
How slowly came your drawled reply,
How gleamed your artificial eye;
And on the morrow you’ll be gone …
Ah, but I loved you, Daedalon.

by J.R. ACKERLEY (1896-1967)
Public Domain Poetry

Open-Source Poetry Three #2

Dear Readers,

Look at what Von Smith, the Great and Terrible, snuck into the comments section of our previous Open-Source Poetry post:

glistened all at once as I entered the bar
then a sad, unoccupied octopus caught my eye
she could see the calamari smile flit across my lips
a tentacle snatched my leg as I turned to leave
silence gripped the bar as she reeled me in
a group of groupers laughed at my panic, as I slid by
never again will I wear “Chicken of the Sea” cologne

We’ve actually had a little argument about this.

Tony reckons that this is Von’s extremely clever attempt to raise our communal poetry making efforts to new creative heights.

But Tati is convinced that Von’s a cybernetically enhanced ex-Navy dolphin whose current aim is to hack into Open Source Poetry using SQUID technology and other sensors implanted in his skull. Tati doesn’t know much about SQUIDs, but she’s heard stories, and she makes a point of never repeating them to Tony. He’d have nightmares for weeks!

So, anyway, Tati believes that Von’s afraid we’ve gotten the drop on him, and that we’re getting too close for comfort. She thinks that he thinks that we think he’s overthinking his next move, and that we’ll capture then torture him into revealing the scary truth about dolphins and their plans for world domination.

And, if that’s what he’s worried about, then he’d be right to tremble his flippers and fins. We won’t give up our World Literature Crusade against bad rhymes and frankenmammals! Yes, Tati and Runn1n90nempty’s daughter are in the game already, and they’re here to stay. Are you in? If so, here’s how you can help:

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Meanwhile, Tony’s calmly sniffing chamomiles as he plays through the water dungeon in Zelda. It would be fair to say that he’s having a whale of a time!

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & RUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER
© All rights reserved 2019

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #12

crumble-cult-210

Tati as TATI

crumble-cult-106

Tony as TONY

ACT 77 SCENE 549
DUCKIN’ & RENOVATIN’

Tati walks into the living room to see Tony standing on the wall, jutting out horizontally. He’s inspecting a mark on the ceiling.

TATI: What is this? A new kind of fortune-telling? Using spider webs and desiccated flies?

TONY: Nope. I just thought I’d try looking at life from a different perspective for a change.

TATI: Uh huh. And how does it look?

TONY: Erm… Very skip trowelly, I guess?

TATI: What? Your life looks like you’re skipping a trolley?

TONY: No! Skip trowel. It’s a type of finish that ceilings can have.

TATI: Tony, I don’t understand. Are you gazing at the ceiling or at your life?

TONY: Can’t it be both? Perhaps this ceiling represents a developmental point that I cannot get past as a human being. Perhaps this is symbolic of my personal limits.

Tati peers up at Tony with a long musing look, then leaves the room. She’s back a few moments later with two large pick axes. She climbs up onto the wall and stands near the ceiling with him. Then she hits the ceiling sharply with one of the pick axes. Tony looks at her, wide eyed and open mouthed, as bits of debris rain down on them.

TONY: What are you doing?!

Tony swallows some ceiling, and begins to cough and splutter.

TONY: Jesus. That can’t be good for my asthma!

TATI: Yes, Tony, you’re not Michelangelo. Where’s your swing?

A bird’s nest and some cockroaches fall onto Tony’s face. He splutters some more, and very quickly flicks them away.

TONY: Well, duh, I’m not Michelangelo! What’s your point?

TATI: My point is this stone. Would you be so kind as to help me with it, Tony?

TONY: What stone?

A huge piece of ceiling stone clocks the side of his face.

TONY: Oh. That one.

Trying not to pass out, he holds it up for Tati to see.

TATI: Hit it! HIT IT!

TONY: The stone?

TATI: No, drop the stone. Hit the ceiling!

Bemused, Tony drops the stone. He takes his pick axe and tentatively swings it at the ceiling. It catches on the edge of the hole Tati’s already made, and more debris comes tumbling down.

TATI: Watch your head! Duck! Duck!

Tony and Tati duck and weave like Neo dodging bullets in ‘The Matrix’.

TONY: Wow! Are we naturals or what?

TATI: Nope, we’re supernaturals!

Tony stumbles and falls over. Tati chuckles and helps him up again.

TATI: Rise up, Neo! Rise up!

And so, they keep swinging their pick axes and hacking a larger hole until finally they’re satisfied. Tati and Tony down their tools, and climb back onto the floor.

TONY: That was fun!

They lay on the floor and gaze back up through the hole in the ceiling, taking in the view of the night sky with its many twinkling stars.

TATI: So, what is your limit, Tony?

TONY: Through that ceiling and beyond!

TATI: That’s it!

They continue to lay there happily, but then…

TONY: Is that…

TATI: Yes. Rain.

TATI & TONY: Dammit!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Stream’s Song by Lascelles Abercrombie

Make way, make way,
You thwarting stones;
Room for my play,
Serious ones.

Do you not fear,
O rocks and boulders,
To feel my laughter
On your broad shoulders?

So you not know
My joy at length
Will all wear out
Your solemn strength?

You will not for ever
Cumber my play:
With joy and son
I clear my way.

Your faith of rock
Shall yield to me,
And be carried away
By the song of my glee.

Crumble, crumble,
Voiceless things;
No faith can last
That never sings.

For the last hour
To joy belongs:
The steadfast perish,
But not the songs.

Yet for a while
Thwart me, O boulders;
I need for laughter
Your serious shoulders.

And when my singing
Has razed your quite,
I shall have lost
Half my delight.

by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE (1881-1938)
Public Domain Poetry