Poem By Tony Jennett

I scour the cottage for signs of past presence
L ike a famished orphan at the erstwhile site
O f a long-spilled rice-sack, grubbing some essence,
V estige of sustenance. Hope gutters fitfully not quite
E xtinguished. I stroke reverently the seat-belt strap

Y ou wore in my vehicle. Your coffee-cup a Holy Grail.
O n my hearth a ghostly print, hazard-hap
U nder your leaning hand, now cold as winter's hail

A t a stranger's touch but under mine, burning
L ike the coals contained within. The wind,
W histled down by winter's inevitable returning,
A rticulates 'Patricia Ann, Patricia Ann' behind
Y our back in my chimney and your phantom dust
S trikes shafts of sunlight as it ever must.

Comments about Autumn

Awesome Tony. Your very talented. So well done.
--tres cliche --
First off, I love that it's an acrostic.......yet it's much more complex than most tend to be. I like that. This is hauntingly beautiful Tony. Sincerely, Mary
beautiful clever poem.. i love it
I like the line about the coffee cup being a holy grail

Rating Card

4,3 out of 5
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Other poems of JENNETT

A Muse Whispers

A Muse whispers
and the soul's pricked-up, hand cupped ear
strains hard to catch each syllable
wafting over memory's embers


Die woman! Please! Just give up and die.
Your tangled life-line warps my strangled dissembling smile.
Juggernaut logic tears my tortured bowel:
Says you must go. And this I must hide away?

To The Over-Tender

The mind and heart sustain contusions
By jumping to the wrong conclusions
And intellect, perhaps, divines
Too much by reading twixt the lines


Moaning its broken-voiced bull-with-a-hangover wail,
Blinking its tired dim rheumy bloodshot eye


So, hello vertigo! Bane of other's lives not mine.