Category Archives: TONY’S POEMS

cold (comfort for the oligarch)

you were a child once
played hide & seek with the truth
smothered your world with a smile
silenced hearthlands with all guile

you held more than the rest of them
more than lifetimes could ever feed
cultivated deafness to their pleas
while touching the lichen on trees

empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i do

you held dominion o’er anthills
had them burned ‘neath your lens of rage
watched them scatter into entropy
as you & the bison trammelled lea

you felt so superior
& equally felt misunderstood
self-made with all the scaffolding
afforded you in childhood’s spring

empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i sue

the winterings of life now nearer
with less introspection than e’er before
& naught but tongues of sycophants
to baste the gilding of your pants

the end of life now upon you
do your riches gleam paler than e’er before
could you have been less of a bastard
& mayhap wept a little more

empathy is plebeian
do as i say, not as i rue

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

cold (boy in the grave)

what is boy to do when
the judge will not advocate
& silence is the crime

his death smacks heavenly sweet
honeyed thus for peace of mind
as the rest of life goes to pot
boy raises a poisoned chalice &
pleads for more hungarian wine

the bad man lashed & beat on him
enriched while boy had less to eat
a legal ward with no standing
but life, they say, can find a way
(tho’ god’s acre be down the street)

what is boy to do when
the judge does prevaricate
& silence is the crime

tho’ blood be often redder
bruises sting profoundly true
how could boy bear any more when
none would pluck this weight away
no reckoning hawk from the blue

his death shall taste bittersweet
at least it’s something left to eat
a boy full bellied on life now
sighs to emptied then lays he down
(for worms to feast in ‘neath the ground)

what is boy to do when
the judge chose to abdicate
& silence was the crime

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

cold (morning coffee without milk)

i should be alive
but i’m always waiting in the wings
what’s my line, what should i be
is there a place onstage for me

brown people are dying
i’m so fucking impotent
somebody help them
somebody better than me

i should be alive
not a white invader
not a white saviour
with thoughts such as these

people are dying
while i’m enmired in
the ‘how is this me’
& the luxury of guilt

i should be alive
improvise my own intention
reach into myself
reach out to others

we all grow old, don’t we
& wish we had more time
unless we’re brown
& then living is a crime

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

clarity

shake it out & lay you down
lean into the hushly furrow
atween cotton wool eyes

the approbation of dreams
where you don’t need to be heard
where you don’t need to be owed
where forever can be like nothing

aslumber in their scaffolding
yet you don’t need their dispensation
to let it all fall away now
so no more maimly going clear
no more sideways tussle
& no more fuzzy words in your ear

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

the great silence

i cleave to myself, o’erwhelmed
on a stuttered trail of dreams
holding this space ‘tween the firs
’til in snowfall i dissolve
fallen to the flurry of time

often have i bethought myself
of the needle wreath she placed there
(’twas as fine a crown as any)
she told me she loved me for the last time
& i’ve waited since for renewal
for the gladdening of another spring

the older i get, the younger i feel
& predictably, the less i know
tho’ i am sad, i’m very much alive
hoar frost my heart & beard
& strangely featherlight this weight of years

no longer will i trace my beginnings
nor do i care to know my end
hereon this wintry canvas
i’ll remember her to aught that hear
& bethink the ones left behind
then in silence wish that all be well

i am ready to move on
this my bearing, for better or ill
‘neath the greylag’s flurry for more time
within the great white yawn ‘tween wooded tines
a world sadly devoid of her charms

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024