miss cooking for him
and on most days, for her, too
I cook anyway
energy needs assistance
I thrive on this love
by TREMAINE L. LOADHOLT
© All rights reserved 2022
miss cooking for him
and on most days, for her, too
I cook anyway
energy needs assistance
I thrive on this love
by TREMAINE L. LOADHOLT
© All rights reserved 2022
no one wants to die
no one wants to say goodbye
no one wants to cry
void their headstone of the lie
that there is a by the by
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022
Saint Anthony at church
Was left in the lurch,
So he went to the ditches
And preached to the fishes.
They wriggled their tails,
In the sun glanced their scales.
The carps, with their spawn,
Are all thither drawn;
Have opened their jaws,
Eager for each clause.
No sermon beside
Had the carps so edified.
Sharp-snouted pikes,
Who keep fighting like tikes,
Now swam up harmonious
To hear Saint Antonius.
No sermon beside
Had the pikes so edified.
And that very odd fish,
Who loves fast-days, the cod-fish,
The stock-fish, I mean,
At the sermon was seen.
No sermon beside
Had the cods so edified.
Good eels and sturgeon,
Which aldermen gorge on,
Went out of their way
To hear preaching that day.
No sermon beside
Had the eels so edified.
Crabs and turtles also,
Who always move low,
Made haste from the bottom
As if the devil had got ’em.
No sermon beside
The crabs so edified.
Fish great and fish small,
Lords, lackeys, and all,
Each looked at the preacher
Like a reasonable creature.
At God’s word,
They Anthony heard.
The sermon now ended,
Each turned and descended;
The pikes went on stealing,
The eels went on eeling.
Much delighted were they,
But preferred the old way.
The crabs are backsliders,
The stock-fish thick-siders,
The carps are sharp-set,
All the sermon forget.
Much delighted were they,
But preferred the old way.
by ABRAHAM A SANCTA-CLARA (1644-1709)
Public Domain Poetry
the sky is so low today
i can reach it with my hand
rake the lightning from the clouds
make a crown of electric thorns
the fog is arcane today
i can absorb it with my skin
get gnostic by osmosis
wet in the haar of angel stranding
the sand is so sonant today
i can hear it with my feet
till with toes between the grains
fill to sprig from unheard prayers
and here i am, another day
walking free among the dunes
i’m the arrester and catalyst
time and tide wait for no god
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022
just call me by name
make me turn swiftly around
lift my lowered hood
beneath a leaky awning
make us blab till the rain ends
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2022