Tag Archives: Life

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Since Then by Madison Julius Cawein

I found myself among the trees
What time the reapers ceased to reap;
And in the sunflower-blooms the bees
Huddled brown heads and went to sleep,
Rocked by the balsam-breathing breeze.
I saw the red fox leave his lair,
A shaggy shadow, on the knoll;
And tunneling his thoroughfare
Beneath the soil, I watched the mole
Stealth’s own self could not take more care.
I heard the death-moth tick and stir,
Slow-honeycombing through the bark;
I heard the cricket’s drowsy chirr,
And one lone beetle burr the dark
The sleeping woodland seemed to purr.
And then the moon rose: and one white
Low bough of blossoms grown almost
Where, ere you died, ’twas our delight
To meet, dear heart! I thought your ghost…
The wood is haunted since that night.

by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN (1865-1914)
Public Domain Poetry

for sanity’s sake

here between the seasons
the drought & hoped for rains
how on earth we prevail is
a puzzle for analytical minds
we try one smile on at a time

one smile at a time
to keep that sultry darkness at bay
one smile at a time
but perhaps today is not that day
mayhap i wish to sluttily lay
in disarray like i belong
& die erelong

but life goes on
while i whore myself to ruination
& smile along with the twee
their cock-a-hoop clarity in
hopes that we might cohabitate
in peace between drought & rain

& life goes on
one smile at a time

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Critic And Poet. by Emma Lazarus

An Apologue.

(“Poetry must be simple, sensuous, or impassioned; this man is neither simple, sensuous, nor impassioned; therefore he is not a poet.”)

No man had ever heard a nightingale,
When once a keen-eyed naturalist was stirred
To study and define – what is a bird,
To classify by rote and book, nor fail
To mark its structure and to note the scale
Whereon its song might possibly be heard.
Thus far, no farther; – so he spake the word.
When of a sudden, – hark, the nightingale!

Oh deeper, higher than he could divine
That all-unearthly, untaught strain! He saw
The plain, brown warbler, unabashed. “Not mine”
(He cried) “the error of this fatal flaw.
No bird is this, it soars beyond my line,
Were it a bird, ‘t would answer to my law.”

by EMMA LAZARUS (1849-1887)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Pig by Rudyard Kipling

Go, stalk the red deer o’er the heather,
Ride, follow the fox if you can!
But, for pleasure and profit together,
Allow me the hunting of Man,
The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul
To its ruin, the hunting of Man.

by RUDYARD KIPLING (1865-1936)
Public Domain Poetry

nigredo moth song

you are the clinging taken flight
ev’ry night at behest of gaslight
a shadow’s veil o’er pale lea
froing ev’ry where with ev’ry care
a full-wing’d catastrophe

expell’d from skeet cocoon
& still not yet fully bloom’d
unaliv’d to breathe again
into hallow’d dustings of lung & wing

the flame, they say, casts a treacherous spell
but you’ll scudder through like you always do
prevail somehow, wee gossamer soul

you are the feelings all at once
all fronts abandoned to the hunt
to dire thunder afore the dawn
ev’ry care to ev’ry prayer
to ev’ry thready need to mourn

but dusk can ne’er negate joy
tho’ you feel not yet fully bouy’d
forsake all the haggl’d horrow
in begotten age of thrum & wing

the flame, they say, casts a treacherous spell
but you’ll scudder through like you always do
prevail somehow, wee gossamer soul

the tide does heap perilous weight
its freight upon you a cragging hate
dragging the air from your charcoal frame
ev’ry prayer scries ev’ry where
hying too close to dark waters again

traject’ries erratic as night is long
are you feeling too much all o’er again
will you be a conclusion forgone
you surely cannot be the only one

the flame, they say, casts a treacherous spell
but you’ll scudder through like you always do
prevail somehow, wee gossamer soul

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025