hiraeth

her paintings are on display
in the gallery’s endmost room
where there are only dull bulbs
and long, timid shadows

away from the greedy eyes
away from the greasy hands
away from the eco idiots
armed with their cup-a-soups

her paintings are on display
in the endmost of memories
where there is only yearning
for the might-have-been past

where sweet melancholy slumbers
where there’s no desire for awakening
where a soft nightsong is
sung by cicada ensemble

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

winter elegy

it’s winter but the wind is warm
like a giant’s hearth breathing
where is the forest’s ghost white shroud
where are the grand glaciers of old

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

the lazy sky yawns and stretches
though swaddled in blankets of cloud
not even the rain shall fall
not even the earth shall swallow

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

the trees slumber in dreams so fey
where the woodcutter loses his axe
dull all meaning with the seasons
dull the blade of understanding

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

GUEST POST // Fragile Power by Cassy Single

Love blossoming
Not just for kith and kin
Stardust on the wind
Whispering searching for a home

Open my heart
Give me strength
Break the chains of conforming
Show me a brave new world

Not giving up
Not giving in
Growing and transforming
Into a wildflower

Open my heart
Give me strength
Break the chains of conforming
Show me a brave new world

Finding peace
In the love light
Strength in numbers
Expanding the bounds of what love means

Open my heart
Give me strength
Break the chains of conforming
Show me a brave new world

by CASSY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

cloudy with a chance of deicide

long may i outlast
all the world’s grey anointing
smog & entropy
let it all float away now
punch the god nose yonder sky

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Out Of The Morning. by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

by EMILY ELIZABETH DICKINSON (1830-1886)
Public Domain Poetry