Tag Archives: Poetry

polemic trap

the classic problem of any discussion
those who don’t know formulate well
they sort out the saints and sinners
like a seasoned trader smells rotten fish

but those who know are tongue-tied
they chew on word salad
they are full of contradictions
and sound rather delusional

because true knowledge
doesn’t come with chain-reading
it plops onto your head
like a pigeon’s fresh droppings

and when you come to yourself
rubbing eyes while onlookers laugh
those ignorant stoned jerks
take over the world

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

shaggy dog poem

lame dog
he has three legs
& a smoker’s cough
but he don’t sweat it

lame dog
chases cockeyed pigeons
& sneezes at the sun
gnarly butt-wagged tail

lame dog
he don’t lick the hand
that give the medicine
‘cos he got self-respect

but lame dog
always shakes paw
even if it makes him
plop on his butt

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

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

the mute observer problem

if a deaf guy falls in the forest
& no one’s around to hear it
does he make a sound

probably

he just can’t hear himself
or maybe can’t use his words
like ouch or christ

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024