TATI’s AND TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Dove And The Ant. by Jean de La Fontaine

The same instruction we may get
From another couple, smaller yet.

A dove came to a brook to drink,
When, leaning o’er its crumbling brink,
An ant fell in, and vainly tried,
In this, to her, an ocean tide,
To reach the land; whereat the dove,
With every living thing in love,
Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her,
By which the ant regain’d the shore.

A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly,
Soon after chanced this dove to spy;
And, being arm’d with bow and arrow,
The hungry codger doubted not
The bird of Venus, in his pot,
Would make a soup before the morrow.
Just as his deadly bow he drew,
Our ant just bit his heel.
Roused by the villain’s squeal,
The dove took timely hint, and flew
Far from the rascal’s coop; –
And with her flew his soup.

by JEAN DE LA FONTAINE (1621-1695)
Public Domain Poetry

TROTTERSVILLE #9

You can find TROTTERSVILLE #1 here > Ba Dum Tish!

by TONY SINGLE & TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2024

ripples in the soup bowl

when you’ve traced your secrets into the sand
with a spirit’s hand at the water’s edge
is when the tide washes in to wash it away
& now no one on earth will have ever known you

when your face can’t be a part of this world
at the ripple & quell of a wishing well
your reflection does question former times
where no one said you could be lovely

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than hunters
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

when grace extends only so far as merit
don’t be so loyal to your suffering
they’ve laid claim to your life without consent
& indentured you to kill in the name of

when disgrace has felled you for the last time
when the muffled gunfire burns in your lungs
when you wake into your funeral wreath
beyond the subatomic algorithm

& you’re wondering why you had to obey
when you did not wish to hold a gun
& you’re wondering why she bothered to stay
when you could not put bread in her hand

those men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be more than fodder
with dusty hearts & those lifeless eyes

you can love like no one owes you
you can give however you want
but no man can bend forever
the men lined up at the soup kitchen
were never allowed to be simply human
no man can bleed forever

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

Learn Ukrainian with Putin (Postcard Set #4)

Putin Front Back 4

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022