Tag Archives: Poetry

numen mentis

there’s whale song lilting in my brain
e’er beyond a distant shore
away from the fever dreams i
had circumnavigated
to be with you

in stoic avoidance i’d
edged between foam and dune
got shipwrecked in lieu of belonging
and realised this place was ne’er home
nor bullion of promises meant for me

was it e’er only me
this resolve i had to follow you

had it e’er been the face of god
that mine hands held out to enfold

there’s waters swelling o’er that shore
nigh on the embankment of my brain
and the whale song serenade
decrying happy e’er once upons
i finally see that i was satan all along

and ‘tween these flashes of meaning i
espy twin trails o’er bleary sands
one forged with longing, the other you
anchored away from expectation
the fading proof of our story

had i e’er only been
this resolve straining for you

was it e’er truly the face of god
or mine hands beheld to the prints of darkness

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

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

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood–
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

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

ymaginacioun

i like to dunk my head
beneath the water
see ‘tween her thighs
and blow bubbles

i like to come up for air
my lips to her knees
like hungry starfish
tasting high land

i like to smell the foam
slipping down her face
it gives me an excuse
to steal one more kiss

i like to feel her belly laugh
causing a tiny storm
as our old, creaky bath
overflows its banks

i like to take full advantage
of four of my five senses
tho’, alas, i can’t use my hearing aid
during naughty rub-a-dubs in a tub

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

GUEST POST // The cat who loved ABBA by Graeme Sandford

ABBA, the cat, who loved,
never knew about punctuation,
or the proper use of colons and commas;
but, she didn’t have to,
it wasn’t important in the scheme of things –
unlike tummy rubs
and wriggling strings.

by GRAEME SANDFORD
© All rights reserved 2021

the fitzroy killer

what kind of turtle breathes through its arse?
a brave one, that’s what, that moves real fast!
it doesn’t give a shit what you find reasonable
it’ll squeeze with its cheeks anything seasonable
be it bananas or tim tams or mini fridges
it’s all moshing green hair and bristling ridges
don’t stand in its path or it’ll gnaw your shoes
then down to the bone ’til you’re yesterday’s news!
what’s more, it doesn’t need any goddam excuses
it’ll blend then swill you like some vegan juices
so, you’d better not be messing with the bum breathing turtles
if you don’t want to rest in pieces between the scrubs of myrtles

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021