Tag Archives: Seasons

for sanity’s sake

here between the seasons
the drought & hoped for rains
how on earth we prevail is
a puzzle for analytical minds
we try one smile on at a time

one smile at a time
to keep that sultry darkness at bay
one smile at a time
but perhaps today is not that day
mayhap i wish to sluttily lay
in disarray like i belong
& die erelong

but life goes on
while i whore myself to ruination
& smile along with the twee
their cock-a-hoop clarity in
hopes that we might cohabitate
in peace between drought & rain

& life goes on
one smile at a time

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

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

winter elegy

it’s winter but the wind is warm
like a giant’s hearth breathing
where is the forest’s ghost white shroud
where are the grand glaciers of old

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

the lazy sky yawns and stretches
though swaddled in blankets of cloud
not even the rain shall fall
not even the earth shall swallow

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

the trees slumber in dreams so fey
where the woodcutter loses his axe
dull all meaning with the seasons
dull the blade of understanding

when was the last time you heard the raven cry
when was the last time you saw the mirror smile
change is but a turning of tides

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

her bulwark

inert, like grey stone
inside a ribbed dewar cage
she was all heart once
the drub and thrum of seasons
now preserved for the next world

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // December’s Snow by Arthur Conan Doyle

The bloom is on the May once more,
The chestnut buds have burst anew;
But, darling, all our springs are o’er,
‘Tis winter still for me and you.
We plucked Life’s blossoms long ago
What’s left is but December’s snow.

But winter has its joys as fair,
The gentler joys, aloof, apart;
The snow may lie upon our hair
But never, darling, in our heart.
Sweet were the springs of long ago
But sweeter still December’s snow.

Yes, long ago, and yet to me
It seems a thing of yesterday;
The shade beneath the willow tree,
The word you looked but feared to say.
Ah! when I learned to love you so
What recked we of December’s snow?

But swift the ruthless seasons sped
And swifter still they speed away.
What though they bow the dainty head
And fleck the raven hair with gray?
The boy and girl of long ago
Are laughing through the veil of snow.

by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE (1859-1930)
Public Domain Poetry