TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Nocturne by Edwin C. Ranck

A cat duet.
A silhouette.
A high brick wall,
An awful squall.
A moonlit night,
A mortal fight.
A man in bed,
Sticks out his head.
Gee Whiz!
The man has riz.
His arm draws back
A big bootjack–
A loud swish,
Squish!
“What’s that?”
A dead cat.

 

by EDWIN C. RANCK (1879-?)
Public Domain Poetry

Open-Source Poetry Two #5 (Final)

Dear Readers,

These lines from the poem of a famous Russian poet Fyodor Tyutchev came to mind while we were preparing this post:

Нам не дано предугадать,
Как слово наше отзовется,-
И нам сочувствие дается,
Как нам дается благодать… *

Really, we never know what the last line of a poem will be when we write the first one. Especially when we’re collaborating with you, our Dear Writers and Readers.

And guess what? It’s this very thing that makes the Open Source Poetry feature one of our favourites here on Unbolt Me. We believe it’s one of your favourites too. The overwhelming number of submissions bears this out!

The lines quoted above also serve as a kind of epigraph. They’re strangely relevant to the themes of our newly completed poem, and pose pertinent questions. How often do we regret words that were said? How often do we hurt those closest to us with our tongues, sharpened with jealousy, even obduracy?

But, hey, you can rest assured that we won’t have any such regrets concerning our new poem! (Oh, and g’day Andy! Your contribution to our Open Source Poetry feature was an absolute corker!)

Вензель

She looks in the book like into a mirror
The face of her sister is there
She wears daffodils in her hair

She reminds her of Shakespeare’s Ophelia
Amid weeping willows along the shore
She lives in the memory of a love no more

She regrets a past whipped with hysteria
And a tongue sharpened by jealousy
That stabbed at fond hearts so zealously

Вензель_нижний

Time will return the word we place
In ways we cannot ask ahead;
Compassion comes our way instead
Much as the blessedness of grace.
(Translation by Evgenia Sarkisyants)

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINATONY SINGLETHOM TNKERRFRAGGLELAKMI & ANDY SMERDON
© All rights reserved 2018

the strand (lost paradise lament)

seraph, a man in a grain of sand
how far you have fallen
all trace of you got swept beneath
the sea of time, your alleged crime

you tried to pay your respects
to the last breath, but lies still lie and
fidelity has long left the stage
he’s gone, never to pass this way again

you bear the echo of all that was
with the weight of a dead crown
are these the days of clarity
in the sea of time, a bitter wine

lilies grow amongst the skulls now
the aftermath of your unseen war
have you not seen through the tears
you, the unreconstructed man

silence, and dark tranquillity
morning star, you blanch at the dawn
parlay at the speed of trust’s decay
this sea of time, the mere sublime

grief has frozen you to the shoreline
the pain of you reaches into his lie
verging on hope, though god knows why
a quiet smoke seeking ascension’s sigh

who will come for you now
who will comfort you, bury you

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018