Tag Archives: Poet

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Christmas. by Thomas Frederick Young

Old father Time, his cruel scythe
Has swung full oft around,
Since last the merry Christmas, bells
Rang out their cheerful sound.
With cruel vigor he has held
His great, impartial sway,
And many thousands mown to earth,
Who saw last Christmas day.

For some have left this world for aye,
Who dwelt with us last year;
Glad voices heard amongst us then,
We never more shall hear.
But still we’ll build our Christmas fires,
And sing our Christmas songs,
And for one day forget our griefs,
Our failures and our wrongs.

Then ring, ye joyful bells, ring out;
Ye crashing cymbals fall;
And for old Christmas, hale and stout,
Sound up, ye harps and all.
Let music’s loud and sweetest strain
Beat from our hearts each ill;
Let thoughts of those assuage our pain,
Who are around us still.

Oh, winsome maid, oh, hearty youth,
I urge you on to glee,
For, in your innocence and truth,
You all are dear to me.
Nor youth, nor age should cherish gloom,
And voices oft should sing,
So give the gladsome voices room,
And let the joy-bells ring.

by THOMAS FREDERICK YOUNG (1892-1940)
Public Domain Poetry

GUEST POST // I Live in a House of Cats by Jen Payne

I live in a house of cats:

three before that were

one – Emily
after the poet
loved blue jays
a thing with feathers

and two – CJ
namesake Joy but
arrived with grief
that lifted with love

then 3 – Crystal
so full of life and love
she sparkled!

[ There were two drifters

Moose, who lived next door but preferred to garden here

and Little Black Kitty who learned to trust slowly but enough ]

Of course Lola,
Zen master
lost then found
found me

Now: Molly
Good Golly,
is Whippersnapper
a name for a cat?

by JEN PAYNE
© All rights reserved 2023

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Frog Who Wished To Be As Big As The Ox. by Jean de La Fontaine

There was a little Frog
Whose home was in a bog,
And he worried ’cause he wasn’t big enough.
He sees an ox and cries:
“That’s just about my size,
If I stretch myself – Say Sister, see me puff!”

So he blew, blew, blew,
Saying: “Sister, will that do?”
But she shook her head. And then he lost his wits.
For he stretched and puffed again
Till he cracked beneath the strain,
And burst, and flew about in little bits.

by JEAN DE LA FONTAINE (1621-1695)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Hypocrisy by Samuel Butler

Hypocrisy will serve as well
To propagate a church, as zeal;
As persecution and promotion
Do equally advance devotion:
So round white stones will serve, they say,
As well as eggs to make hens lay.

by SAMUEL BUTLER (1613-1680)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Few Lines On Completing Forty-Seven. by Thomas Hood

When I reflect with serious sense,
While years and years run on,
How soon I may be summoned hence –
There’s cook a-calling John.

Our lives are built so frail and poor,
On sand and not on rocks,
We’re hourly standing at Death’s door –
There’s some one double knocks.

All human days have settled terms,
Our fates we cannot force;
This flesh of mine will feed the worms –
They’re come to lunch of course!

And when my body’s turned to clay,
And dear friends hear my knell,
Oh let them give a sigh and say –
I hear the upstairs bell!

by THOMAS HOOD (1799-1845)
Public Domain Poetry