Anthony Dalby

Anthony Dalby Poems

The tip
of your tongue
is hidden sweetness
in dark places

I will not dream another's sweet musings
when the truth is only partly known
the fruit is so sweet but of another knowledge

My hand on your bare thigh
against the hard stone wall
hot sand slides under the sole of your feet

This longing
is as fine as porcelain
irridescent in the morning light.

Sitting here, feeling the rain slide down my hair
Lunch apples lumped in my hand
Two pints of milk clinging to my clawed fingers
Now sheltering in the office fridge until coffee time

On the shore with you
rivulets lap the sand
bestir times before.
Birds wheel

I know you are there
every day
reading these lines
and I love you for that

sweet emerald jewel
hover next to my love's ear
and slide your probiscus down to her recesses
not to take her honey

Roll me over in the warmth of your tongue
weaving lives together in shimmering light
Grounded in hard rock
Visioning to infinity

Strap my back my arms and bind me
block my ears and blind me
but you will not touch the space inside
with your fearful hands

Now I am gouged out.
Silt slopped to the side
A ruin, safe only for owls.
Saplings reaching out from the harsh cracks


ti amo
there is no more
thats it
simple pure

Comforting snow sifts as flour at your tolling
soft feather down on iron clamped shut
sunlight touches the crystals
language drips from the icicles of your friends

The lines on
The hollow in my palm
Tell a story
of you

You called me again last night, thick still pool on the moor
you called me by the mournful pipes and sickly yellow light drawn by your bow

By your neck thrown back, the rowan thrust back in the autumn wind

They are here

There is no flat here
no stillness
curves constant
lines gouged, lets say snow lines

The alarm sounds
The guard calls me over
Arms up, fingers probe me
His maleness disturbs me

And now I open wide poised and yawning stretch apart
To become the awning
Before you stands the entrance
To slip through and enter

Tonight I shall turn into a seashell
Curving into its infinities
Silken smooth

Anthony Dalby Biography

Architect working near Lancaster. Love Lyndsay Clarke's novel The Chymical Wedding and the notion of seeing things out of the corner of your eye, not in the neon light

The Best Poem Of Anthony Dalby

On The Tip Of Your Tongue

The tip
of your tongue
is hidden sweetness
in dark places
lying in soft crevices between silken sheets
veins of visceral potential
words lying unspoken
half forgotten poems
yearnings and longings
awesome fantasies
The swollen bud pushes out of its secret place
arching your lips to the light
to touch
the tip
of my tongue

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