Tony Jennett Biography

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
...

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

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

A line of doggerel? Poor enough in truth,
For one so rich in spirit. Yet I won
...

An arctic blizzard whispers in my ear
Twelve inches off, through a block of new-cut snow
Howling, unpenetrating. Does it know
I'm sitting warm and smiling here?
...