Cynisca (One-Horse Consolation Race)

“Sorry, we’re closing.”
…and she leaves the battlefield
on her gala-shield.

Jingling with armor,
she fumbles with a jammed lock
in the half-light hall.

In the cold bedroom
she kicks into the corner
a chlamys on which

two heraldic cats
with apathetical smiles
claw a lonely heart.

And then stands face up,
mixing her tears with water
and Bloody Caesar.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2016

Oops!… We Did It Again (the last mission (fel-de-se))

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016-2018

Last will

Why do I prefer
all these haikus and tankas?
It was the last will
of me-mathematician
written-off by me-poet.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Blooming

for my Purple Creature

Please, please, don’t think that
butterflies are silly with
a short memory

Please, please, don’t think that
they sit on this withered bush
without a purpose

No… They remember
its beauty. They remember
all colors and forms

How it bloomed before
a thunder-bolt that summer
Yes, they remember

They sit the same day
every year… it’s a present
The birthday present
The present from butterflies
for their depressed withered friend

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

a Walkover

Poetry can touch
only milk-and-water girls! –
Would you bet on it?

Hey, sure thing! – OK…
Can you give me a crayon,
moron? – What?! – I won!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015