Open-Source Poetry #1

Dear Readers,

As those of you who have read our FAQ page will already know, we no longer collaborate with other bloggers, and haven’t done so for a long time.

(You! Yeah, you! The one with a surprised look on your face! Yes, we do have an FAQ page. Go on! Go and read it now, lazybones! Also we have many other cool pages such as About Us or Hole-in-the-wall but now’s not the time for that.)

So, anyway, we have a proposition for you. We’d like to amend this case of affairs by offering a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together instead. Let’s explain how this would work…

1) We provide the first line of the poem.
2) You write the next 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 the first and second lines in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Please be assured that we won’t forget to mention the names of all the contributors. This way, everyone gets the acknowledgement they deserve.

So, what do you think, Dear Readers? Would you like to have a try? It could be fun! Yes? All right then, here’s the first line…

Вензель

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time?Вензель_нижний

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Broken Poem (Fragment #16)

I knocked at the door.

“Come in!”

The professor was sitting on the window sill without his shoes. It looked a bit strange, but I had gotten used to his little quirks. Generally speaking, our entire magistral staff is a strange sort of panopticon—a freak show if you will—and so sitting barefoot on a window sill looks like kid’s stuff in comparison with the other teachers’ habits.

“What are you staring at? Give me your scribbles!”

I had gotten used to his bad manners too. With impassiveness I offered my worn down notebook to him. The professor opened it, read some lines and screwed up his face.

“What the crap?”

“It’s my homework.”

“Are you sure?”

“It seems so…”

“Quite so. It only seems like homework.”

He tossed the notebook against the wall. It bumped into a shelf of softbound texts, opened and came apart. Lines that I had written with diligence and care crumbled. Words and punctuation marks were scattered higgledy-piggledy in every corner like pieces of a shattered cup. I sniffled and bit my bottom lip.

Gather up this trash. And don’t spoil such precious words with your glamorous bullshit.”

I stood and looked at his bare feet, at those claws clutching over the floor. They were long and crooked with an unpleasant yellow hue…

“Look sharp! I’m not going to hang around for another aeon!”

I started to gather my unhappy poem from the dirty floor. Resentment was slowly turning into fury. Plucked peacock! I will sort you! I will show you anti-glamour!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

bussed & buzzed (liplocked)

we kissed on a jetty high above the fishes
where warm swells loll in gentle squishes
where sundog sprawls over planks like a cat
and morn’s dew hangs tight like an acrobat

we kissed on a jetty ramshackle and treen
where birds chirp loud in kerfuffle and preen
where air tangs the nose, spicy and salted
and time’s put on hold, stately and vaulted

sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes no
sometimes love says to you “adieu”
sometimes “hello”

we kissed on a jetty ’tween shanties bareheaded
where moorings in summer are a web of ropes threaded
where jong-jong gently knock wood together
and pair to wrest free from seabed’s tether

we kissed on a jetty scalloped and shelled
where stormwater drains acapella and meld
where the sun swings low beyond the equator
and nestles sleepily in an extinct crater

sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes no
sometimes love will gift a horseshoe
sometimes a blow

we kissed on a jetty ’neath stars’ cutting swathe
where moonglade outlasts nude lantern’s bathe
where anemones bloom below neptune’s throne
and crabs sleep like heirs under mossy stone

we kissed on a jetty at the mouth of time’s flow
where the days are real quick and the nights are real slow
where ardour pulses through the veins of conviction
and temptation receives cupid’s benediction

sometimes dreams do come true
sometimes no
sometimes love colours you blue
sometimes yellow

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

CRACKED FABLES // The Ass and the Brain

The Ass and the Brain went to the Family Psychologist. They were having relationship issues and wanted to see if this was something that could be resolved together.

The Brain was often quite arrogant. He’d constantly remind the Ass that, in the grand scheme of things, he was more important than she could ever hope to be. And so the Ass would say, “Come down here and say that. I’ll sit on you!”

The Family Psychologist said, “Well, the Brain, let’s unpack that, shall we? What makes you feel as though you’re more important? And what do you make of the Ass wanting to dominate you by using you as her seat?”

“I have a perfect spherical shape that’s to die for!” blustered the Brain.

The Ass snickered. “Is your ‘perfect’ sphere soft and smooth like mine?”

“It has two halves!”

“That’s not what I asked,” muttered The Ass with raised brow.

Ignoring her snarky comment, the Brain puffed himself up and said, “Having two halves affords me a higher degree of processing power. I can solve complex, mathematical equations!”

“You do realise that halves come only in twos, right? Yup, my ‘two halves’ can process things as well—usually on a porcelain throne. It’s called intuition.”

The Brain frowned mightily. It was time to cite one last piece of incontrovertible evidence to support his case. “I have deep, sexy furrows! No intellect can resist me!”

The Ass sighed. She was young and springy, with no furrows, yet all the science nerds still checked her out at the library. Was it worth the bother to mention this?

The Brain visibly deflated a little as the Ass humphed and left the room. The Family Psychologist looked at him and asked the obvious: “How does that make you feel?”

Twenty years later, The elderly Ass came to the elderly Brain. She said, “Look, I have wrinkles now! Are we finally equals?” But the Brain didn’t answer. He had dementia.

MORAL: Time puts everything in its place.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017