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
Why fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream?–
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life’s stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life’s stream–
So fades a dream.
by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR (1872-1906)
Public Domain Poetry
Harvested by night, eaten by day.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
you wake at night
when first snow has tucked the city in
and neon glow has plucked glam rings
into the supercilious dark
you see outside
something shaggy and stark wants in
presses craggy nose, sharp tightening
unto the chilled window pane
you rush through the door
jump up bare to the porch sans clogs
and december like a debauched dim dog
licks your cheek with frosty tongue
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019
It was down in the woodland on last Hallowe’en,
Where silence and darkness had built them a lair,
That I felt the dim presence of her, the unseen,
And heard her still step on the ghost-haunted air.
It was last Hallowe’en in the glimmer and swoon
Of mist and of moonlight that thickened and thinned,
That I saw the gray gleam of her eyes in the moon,
And hair, like a raven, blown wild in the wind.
It was last Hallowe’en where starlight and dew
Made mystical marriage on flower and leaf,
That she led me with looks of a love that I knew,
And lured with the voice of a heart-buried grief.
It was last Hallowe’en in the forest of dreams,
Where trees are eidolons and shadows have eyes,
That I saw her pale face like the foam of far streams,
And heard, like the leaf-lisp, her tears and her sighs.
It was last Hallowe’en, the haunted, the dread,
In the wind-tattered wood by the storm-twisted pine,
That I, who am living, kept tryst with the dead,
And clasped her a moment and dreamed she was mine.
by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN (1865-1914)
Public Domain Poetry
unbolt me 