TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Crushed Leaf by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An hour ago when the wind blew high
At my lady’s window a red leaf beat.
Then dropped at her door, where, passing by,
She carelessly trod it under her feet.

I have taken it out of the dust and dirt,
With a tender pity but half defined.
Ah! poor bruised leaf, with your stain and hurt,
‘A fellow-feeling doth make us kind.’

On winds of passion my heart was blown,
Like an autumn leaf one hapless day.
At my lady’s window with tap and moan
It burned and fluttered its life away.

Bright with the blood of its wasting tide
It glowed in the sun of her laughing eyes.
What cared she though a stray heart died –
What to her were its sobs and sighs.

The winds of passion were spent at last,
And my heart like the leaf in her pathway lay;
And under her slender foot as she passed,
My lady she trod it and went her way.

So I picked the leaf from its dusty place,
With a tender pity -too well defined.
And I laid it here in this velvet case,
Ah! a fellow-feeling doth make us kind.

 

by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX (1855-1919)
Public Domain Poetry

BUT IS IT POETRY? // the last mission (fel-de-se)

bird pierced horizon
somewhere between trees and clouds
spilling rainy nails

a man in a hood
hopes to join them tomorrow
stuffing a nail bomb

1265542358_ornament

TONY: So, Tati, are you advocating terrorism now?

TATI: Huh?

TONY: A man in a hood stuffing a nail bomb. That’s pretty potent imagery right there, my friend.

TATI: And where’s the logic, my friend? Is everything I see something I advocate and enjoy? Is this the case for you?

TONY: Well, no, but I didn’t write a poem about it. It seems like something that was on your mind at least…

TATI: But you write about masturbating and depression. I don’t think you’re fan of such activities.

TONY: I’m a fan of one of them, but yeah, I take your point. So, what was your intention when you wrote this poem then?

TATI: A fan? Do you like depressive shit?

TONY: You’re dodging the question. No fair!

TATI: And everyone pretends that they don’t get you’re a fist fucker.

TONY: Ahem. I think we were talking about you and terrorism, not my sexual proclivities!

TATI: Next question, Jerry.

TONY: My name’s not Jerry!

TATI: Gosh, Oprah, you’re as dull as a holey galosh.

TONY: Oh, thank you so very much. That’s a lovely goddam thing to say! Jesus.

TATI: A galosh in glasses.

TONY: Fine. I’m a galosh in fucking glasses. This interview is over!

TATI: Really? Okay, Oprah. Then till next time, take care of yourselves and each other!

TONY: Jerry Springer signs off with that. Not Oprah! And there’s only one of me here!

TATI: Aw, boo hoo hoo! Go to Oprah!

TONY: What the hell?! Tati, are you stuck between TV channels?

TATI: Shall I punch you goodbye?

TONY: What’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been acting like a… well, a terrorist!

TATI: Aw, Tony, don’t you see I’m trying to raise our readership? Your dull interviewing technique would send even my grandma to sleep in two seconds flat!

TONY: Oh, so you’re proposing to thump each other over the head with our chairs, is that right? That’s your grand solution?!

TATI: And what is your proposition?

TONY: I don’t know. None of this has gone the way I planned. I think I might just go and take a nap.

TATI: Typical Tony!

TONY: What? What have I done now?

TATI: Just go. Meanwhile, I will think of the next ‘But is it Art?’ questions.

TONY: Don’t expect me to be a cooperative interviewee then. Feh!

Dear readers, don’t touch that dial… and stay tuned for more!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

the spark of life (headshot)

fear the gawking dead
they look without seeing
but it’s the gawking alives
who see without looking
that are way scarier

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

force is no answer
raised fists only make more
and reason is empty talk
i can no longer bear this
please bury me under a socle

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

and if i do arise
from the grave pyres of alives
i pledge to rub my wild eyes
then look you full on face
not eat it, only feast my ravenous heart

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

Open-Source Poetry Three #4

Dear Readers,

Things are heatin’ up with them dolphins. The latest eyewitness report by cynicalwordsmith proves this. And now we’re left wondering why the Navy Seals continue to ignore this imminent danger. Why don’t they raise the alarm? Where’s the armed escort? The strike teams? It might even be too late!

Guys, if we don’t wish to be slaves to the dolphins, to serve them coffee in bed and wash their bloody underpants, then we need to rise up and fight! Break out your nets. Get your fishing rods and meat hooks. Unpack those pointedly pointy harpoons. This means war!

For those of you who are still on the fence about this whole communal poetry writing project, cast your eyes over the rules of engagement and have a serious think about jumping into the party pool with the rest of us. But beware of anything that possesses a blowhole!

1) We provide the next line of the poem. (See below.)
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

And holy hell on a cracker, you people that’ve been playing so far are twisted daredevils! (Almost as much as us.) Your entries have been as creative as they are varied, and we’re so grateful that you’ve chosen to participate!

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter
captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter

their harpoons at the ready, of fearsome size
all prepared to greet the impending crimson tide
it seems that the gore storm will never subside

Вензель_нижний

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLERUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER, PETER’S PONDERING & CYNICALWORDSMITH
© All rights reserved 2019