Tag Archives: Death

eidolon (he)

this is the forgotten road
a funnel for the words we could never say
but should have
where his pain keeps step with the ghost of me
to this very day

of all the memories that could have been taken
what is the use of this last one
the one that was left behind
took on a life of its own
and with it has taken his own

i have wept in secret
through weather properly clement or not
and long after my heart had stopped
when i tried no longer to claw through earth
to claim again my former resplendence

the bones of me in this burial mound
the ghost of me in his room again
his bereavement heartfelt vain
one could pain to refill with hope
but his is a barrowman’s chore
and the husk that lingers
mere baggage for the day

and as much as the life not owned
was the purpose not sown
i still pine for that which was human
aimless and pointless tho’ we were
our lungs in chorus were a blessing

his pain keeps step with the ghost of me
silent words for a silent road
and when we think nobody is looking
leaning into myth to light our way
but is it okay that we inevitably fall

we have wept in secret
through weather properly clement or not
and long after his heart has stopped
when he tries no longer to claw through earth
will we meet again in former resplendence

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

eidolon (she)

paint the room
herr weltschmerz has come to stay
and nothing will ever be the same again

tho’ the weather’s properly clement
tho’ he’s never cried the blues before
what’s left that can be properly said
of a man who’d tried to claw back the earth
to kiss his truelove’s final resplendence

the ghost of she keeps count with him
there to haunt his bereavement vain
what can he be but indentured to sorrow
a pain as wide as the days unstemmed

he sorely regrets he’d ever been human
mouths silent words oft kept for silent roads
and for fear he’ll decant so many more along the way
stands deathly instead as a stone unyielding
locked inside with his grief… and fading

herr weltschmerz has come to stay
veins shockingly open to the unspooled light of day
paint the room

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

your field of reeds

i don’t think i’d ever have been old enough
to be the equal of you in our younger days
to the fullness of all our summers i lived
i know you have tried to remember them all

and of course we could never have been forever
here merely for the term of our natural lives
the naïve hope was to simply not die
how’s not to reason why

for as long as my shadow’s here at your side
your regret will be a coma of dreaming
and that blanket of night will smother you
so that all you’ll feel is the pain of now

love is a beautiful hideous thing
i miss you my dear, and thank you for trying
if we could we’d kick the whole damn sky in
i’m nowhere forever and you’re haunted more
grief is a beautiful hideous thing
miss you my dear, and screw me for dying
but tomorrow things will work out somehow
you’ll smile again in the reeds at morningside

we thought we held all the keys didn’t we
to lock all the doors to mutual oblivion
but no matter how far and vain you wander
in this hall of echoes you’ll never find me

and of course you remain to remember now
how we railed at the stalking geist of death
though i wish i had not crumbled, dear
you should not yearn to have died with me

and you’re old enough now to be scared of forgetting
but the end, as we’ve seen, is a broad church
and the road there is an arduous song
so for now be resigned to the sunshine my dear (i won’t mind)

love is a beautiful hideous thing
miss you my dear, and screw me for flying
if we could we’d kick the whole damn sky in
i’m nowhere forever and joy will return
grief is a beautiful hideous thing
i miss you my dear, and thank you for crying
but tomorrow things will work out somehow
you’ll smile again in the sunshine at morningside

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

saoirse

at the beginning of time there was a girl
in a melamine bowl
she had no family, no friends
and was on the dole
she was sat there in a corn flake swirl
a milky, sugared doll
her belongings were mere odds and ends
oh, what a poor little soul!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at noonday’s predoom was a woman cold
in a gumball machine
for the merriment of boozers
in a stinky shebeen
she would shiver nude and candy bold
a pert and tart cuisine
a laughing stock even for losers
oh, buy her a tall glass of poteen!

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

at the end of all things there was a crone
in a bottle discarded
fighting her battles all over again
in weakness, unguarded
she inhaled a black wind through her bones
and all she’d once regarded
her last sigh was for the land of cockaigne
where life is ample tabled and lardered

her name was saoirse
though people hardly remembered
yearning between dearth and plenty
buried under stone in the garden of rasure

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

zero waste

a railway trackside
is planted with cabbage
at dusk it kind of looks like
heads growing on veggie patches

i imagine it’s the business strategy
of the railroad administration
they cultivate new passengers
from the severed parts of train victims

i pull down the shade, turn on the light
a conductor knocks at the door
she asks if i want a cup of tea
yes, please, without sugar

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020