Tag Archives: Poetry

rainwreck

the morning i came back home to you
there were clouds of thunder behind your eyes
and something told me that day
no raincoat nor lightning rod would help at all

i offered you my rose-coloured glasses
a divergent lens you could pardon me through
i hoped to see your rainbow smile
and a sundog dancing a jig on your nose

but adoration’s spine got broken with words
our kisses tainted by ire and woe on fire
and so the rose-coloured view was cracked
overwhelming the room with a fatal shatter

punctured by the shards of desperate memories
of us never at peace despite love’s prevailing
weak and vulnerable, ever weather-exposed
without imminent hope for a good forecast

and so i pulled at the pieces until they fell away
a trail of wreckage leading out the door
a wet season took its hold over the world
the morning i forsook a home with you

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

meanwhile… rain

let’s not run away
next time they hunt us down
let’s stay there and look
at their bewildered faces

let’s sit on the dirty curb
have a smoke (though both of us don’t)
and watch as they’re chased away
by a freezing november rain

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2021

project pitchfork

heaven folded in on itself
when the angels dropped like anchors
and with them all hope

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

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