There was a little Frog
Whose home was in a bog,
And he worried ’cause he wasn’t big enough.
He sees an ox and cries:
“That’s just about my size,
If I stretch myself – Say Sister, see me puff!”
So he blew, blew, blew,
Saying: “Sister, will that do?”
But she shook her head. And then he lost his wits.
For he stretched and puffed again
Till he cracked beneath the strain,
And burst, and flew about in little bits.
by JEAN DE LA FONTAINE (1621-1695)
Public Domain Poetry
i shall not be a burden
i shall not forget to pray
i shall be an inspiration
i shall die in the right way
for those that plead the blood
do nothing but think they’re helping
i metastasise in compliance
in deference to the eyes that will
i shall not be a burden
i shall not say god is cruel
i shall be a demonstration
i shall die in the right way
for those that invoke the name
do nothing but think they’re helping
i catastrophise in silence
in deference to the eyes that won’t
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
sometimes a lone leaf on a tree
has more poesy than a whole book
sometimes a lone page in a book
has more mosey than the hole in me
sometimes a lone me in a tree
has no more pith than a hole for a heart
sometimes a lone hole for a heart
has no more kith than cliff and scree
is this how it’s gotta be
an empath tipping from reality
into the inscrutable
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023
your hot tears drop onto my knees
like the ash of a careless smoker
they burn tiny holes into my pants
i’m thinking, “it’s nice these pyjamas are old”
and hugging you close
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2023
We met when we were strangers
On platforms changing trains
Time would never be the same
No season spoke the dangers,
Our faces wore expressions
Of kindred spirit found
Our voices made no sound
No doubts and no transgressions,
We stood aside the crossroad
And looked along each way
Hoping for another day
To break the secret code,
We met when we were strangers
On platforms changing trains
But I could feel the hurt and reins
Beneath my feet the dangers,
We met when we were strangers
But I knew even then
That I was nothing more
Than a small
Provincial
Station.
by CHRIS NELSON
© All rights reserved 2023
unbolt me 