Open-Source Poetry Two #3

Dear Readers,

Honestly, how many of you have read Shakespeare? You don’t need to be embarrassed or lie and pretend. We’ve barely read Shakespeare ourselves! We keep meaning to but… well, we never seem to find the time. Sad but true.

Tati could say, “To be or not to be…” with a nerdy look, but if you asked her to continue, she’d probably mess up the next line. And Tony… well, Tony loves skulls and drama but that wouldn’t make him the next Prince of Denmark. All he’d be able to utter is, “Verily!” Pathetic really.

So, when all’s said and done, it’s a good thing we’re not writing Shakespeare. No, we’re simply writing a little poem with the help of our Dear Readers. That’s what we’re doing! And we do love that you make us giddy with the excitement of creating.

By the way, a big thank you goes to Fraggle for the next line! Fraggle, our dearest and faithful friend, you rock! Yes, we’re trying to be impartial here but we have to admit that we liked your contribution best. Oh, and why did you make us read about Lady Ophelia? Poor girl! She had a rough trot, didn’t she!

It’s clear that no one informed Ophelia of the rules to this poetry-making game. Let us remind you, Dear Readers, so that you don’t meet a similar fate…

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
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!

Please, Dear Readers, pretty please (with a cherry on top), let’s have a happy ending for this poem? Failing that, let’s at least screw Hamlet the fuck up and make a Disney musical from it!

Вензель

She looks in the book like into a mirror
The face of her sister is there
She wears daffodils in her hair

She reminds her of Shakespeare’s Ophelia
Amid weeping willows along the shore

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINATONY SINGLETHOM TNKERR & FRAGGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

to & fro

oh, hammock, how congenial you are
your embrace is clingy yet feathery
languid, you rock me from side to side
‘tween my past and future, to and fro
for now, suspended in harmony
for now, suspended in harmony

ain’t nothin’ will get done wrong
ain’t nothin’ will get done right
if this rope remains too long
if this knot strains too tight

oh, hammock, how unpalatable you are
your embrace entraps me, it is too easy
suffocated by your smothering tide
hung down deep, boundless sleep below
for now, crucified in harmony
for now, crucified in harmony

ain’t nothin’ will get done wrong
ain’t nothin’ will get done right
if this rope remains too long
if this knot strains too tight

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Dog Nights (Postcard Set #3)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

GUEST POST // Brokenness by Madhuri Katti

Brokenness

Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness
which holds the world together?
a crack that still holds parts?

Is it the brokenness that
unveils the Whole?
The imagined whole –
That never will be or
Maybe never was…

Even if the cracks give away –
Can broken pieces be
whole parts in themselves?
Or maybe broken parts
Will create a kaleidoscope

Sometimes I wonder
Is it the brokenness
that holds the world together?

What purpose does the Whole serve?
The Whole which excludes,
smugly nestled in itself
Till a crack breaks the egoistic shell
The Whole will never be a whole

Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness that
holds the world together?

Borders divide land and humans
But yet, when challenged
The humanity that rises,
Is often more than the sum
Of the broken souls

Sometimes I wonder,
Is it the brokenness that
that holds the world together?

by MADHURI KATTI
© All rights reserved 2018

beautiful homunculus

love ripped through your brightened veins
you wondered how much you could possibly take
the blood (a choir) roaring inside you
rushing to shape a song inside you

naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all

your voice was sandpaper’s rasp
no one understood, who among them could
blood in a cage, no doors inside you
no release for the song inside you

naught can be done to hasten the healing
but you have to know they’re only scars
and i love you, my homunculus
hurt and all

you’re loved, deplumed, so no more pretense
no longer can you be about mere survival
blooded for life, a kindling inside you
the filaments of song deep inside you

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018