TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Sixty to Sixteen by Victor James Daley

If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I,
I would not be as I have been,
You would not be so shy,
We should not watch with careless mien
The golden days go by,
If I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.

The years of youth are yours, Sixteen;
Such years of old had I,
But time has set his seal between
Dark eyebrow and dark eye.
Sere grow the leaves that once were green,
The song turns to a sigh:
Ah! very young are you, Sixteen,
And very old am I.

Red bloom-times come and go, Sixteen,
With snow-soft feet, but I
Shall be no more as I have been
In times of bloom gone by;
For dimmer grows the pleasant scene
Beneath the pleasant sky;
The world is growing old, Sixteen,
The weary world and I.

Ah, would that once again, Sixteen,
A kissing mouth had I;
The days would gaily go, I ween,
Though death should stand anigh,
If springtime’s green were evergreen,
If Love would never die,
And I were young as you, Sixteen,
And you were old as I.

by VICTOR JAMES DALEY (1858-1905)
Public Domain Poetry

GUEST POST // lead balloon by LM

possession is 9/10ths of the law
so humanity has written

televangelists flaunting god
for pro/fit/

really gets to me
how
vapid &
empty
their cult
personality can be

I think you’ve already read this part

impossible to possess the intangible
you can only admire the sheen

I’m holding a lead balloon
knowing it’s gold
knowing it’s never going to float
this song on repeat
I can’t stop singing

hold this for me

by LM
© All rights reserved 2021

GUEST POST // Hide & Seek by Kelly K. Green

Are you there?
peeking around corners
tiny sausages gripping door panel
inevitable giggle ringing
in the imagination
where possibility is endless
& no one can be found

by KELLY K. GREEN
© All rights reserved 2021

GUEST POST // on the cusp of an unknown by trE

“they say” Elsa is on the way;
ready ourselves for the inevitability
of thunderstorms
yet the sun is skydiving
without a care in the world and
I’m growing skeptical.

I want to be prepared;
steer clear of windows and
shut down all electronic devices
in a timely manner;
I can’t help it–every time there’s
a storm, I hear my mother’s voice;
“Turn off those lights and
that damn tv! God is talking!”

shouldn’t I be mindful if
in fact, God IS speaking?

meteorologists are tapping their
pointers at markers on their
maps, unsure of exact touchdown
points yet “We should be on the
lookout” for damaging winds
and heavy rain
and every year, during
hurricane season, my anxiety
levels are heightened.

there’s a new storm named
ever other day, it seems . . .
why does the ocean argue
with the sky?
who is monitoring its raised voice
or defending the shores
and the pleading animals?

Elsa may show up with
a pent-up wrath buried inside
her and I say, “let it rip but
just have mercy.”
the souls of man
could use a cleansing.

by TRE
© All rights reserved 2021

the meter’s ticking

it’s just another night
they go home by taxi
i go the other way
the driver looks at me
he asks where to stop
but i stay silent

it’s just another night
they go home by taxi
i go from myself
and now my only thought
that i’m short of money
for such a lifelong ride

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2021