Tag Archives: Poet

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // To an Old Teapot By Fay Inchfawn

Now from the dust of half-forgotten things,
You rise to haunt me at the year’s Spring-cleaning,
And bring to memory dim imaginings
Of mystic meaning.

No old-time potter handled you, I ween,
Nor yet were you of gold or silver molten;
No Derby stamp, nor Worcester, can be seen,
Nor Royal Doulton.

You never stood to grace the princely board
Of monarchs in some Oriental palace.
Your lid is chipped, your chubby side is scored
As if in malice.

I hesitate to say it, but your spout
Is with unhandsome rivets held together —
Mute witnesses of treatment meted out
In regions nether.

O patient sufferer of many bumps!
I ask it gently — shall the dustbin hold you?
And will the dust-heap, with its cabbage stumps,
At last enfold you?

It ought. And yet with gentle hands I place
You with my priceless Delft and Dresden china,
For sake of one who loved your homely face
In days diviner.

by FAY INCHFAWN (1880-1978)
Public Domain Poetry

GUEST POST // Sincere Pretense by Kevin L. McDaniel

Meeting where “Your insight
is imperative,”
but participation
is optional.

“Let’s catch up
soon,” shared by
people passing
in echoing hallways.

“Love, love, love what
you did there,”
praising mediocre
work.

“Your email must have
found its way
to the abyss of
my inbox,” a common tale.

“No offense but…”
often prefaces
unsolicited
perspectives.

“Take your time,
there’s absolutely
no hurry,”
with deadlines whispering.

“Just jesting,”
comes after,
softening
sharp words.

“I’ll ponder over it,”
a placeholder,
while decisions
drift.

“Wow, you’ve really
surpassed yourself
this time,”
for varying efforts.

“Couldn’t have achieved
it without your
unique contribution,”
when roles blur.

by KEVIN L. MCDANIEL
© All rights reserved 2024

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Seed by William Allingham

See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
And through the Winter neglected lay,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,
With tiny root taking hold on the clay
As, lifting and strengthening day by day,
It pushes red branches, sprouts new leaves,
And cell after cell the Power in it weaves
Out of the storehouse of soil and clime,
To fashion a Tree in due course of time;
Tree with rough bark and boughs’ expansion,
Where the Crow can build his mansion,
Or a Man, in some new May,
Lie under whispering leaves and say,
“Are the ills of one’s life so very bad
When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad?”
As I do now. But where shall I be
When this little Seed is a tall green Tree?

by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM (1824-1889)
Public Domain Poetry

GUEST POST // Leap Over by Aboli Mane

We leap over mountains
as the rabbit leaps over the moon
years wane in the blink of an eye
the marbles clink and scatter

as the rabbit leaps over the moon
childhood leapfrogs over our back
the marbles clink and scatter
the playground becomes a stranger

childhood leapfrogs over our back
vanishing with many steps
the playground becomes a stranger
the mango tree ripens; waiting

vanishing with many steps
innocence giggles over hide and seek
the mango tree ripens; waiting
for familiar hands to pluck the fruit

innocence giggles over hide and seek
years wane in the blink of an eye
for familiar hands to pluck the fruit
we leap over mountains.

by ABOLI MANE
© All rights reserved 2024

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Secrets. by Bliss Carman (William)

Three secrets that never were said:
The stir of the sap in the spring,
The desire of a man to a maid,
The urge of a poet to sing.

by BLISS CARMAN (WILLIAM) (1861-1929)
Public Domain Poetry