Alexis Tinsley Pope ~ Poet

 



 

Anacaona

she moved macabre in a swinging cage,                                                      even though she was bandaged, mummified.                                                                                            three men nailed to crosses, distant, high                                                                                                    saw this maiden's voyage. screams bathed her                                                                                              flying hair, pink oasis, blood.                                                                                                                    outside sympathisers, waving, smiling,

pitiless siffilating voyeurs.                                                                                                                              with no escape, she moved with solemn stride,                                                                                              the end known, the thorny way obscure,                                                                                                      this dreadful draught was not to pass her lips,

and as her yolk increased her eyes dimmed.                                                                                                  yet a man in mermaid's garb, a hidden face                                                                                                from out the breasts and mouths, receding from the                                                                                      summit of ecstasy, bracing his lips,                                                                                                        smirked for mediocrity and monotony.                                                                                                          the land sliding before a perfect screen of                                                                                                                ordered light, shifting like two amorists,                                                                                                produced a saintly face from out the scene.

with lowered antlitz, faint were her eyes,                                                                                                            her pained, passioned, body smitten in twain.                                                                                          deeds were words, words were flesh, and she,                                                                                misfortune's forced friend,                                                                                                                        flittered and fluttered as her anchor's weight,                                                                                                took her, bore her down toward her fate.

 

 

 

Tunnel to the Island

Alexis Tinsley Pope writes about his poetry anthology “Tunnel to the Island”:

“When the Covid 19 pandemic initially descended upon world populations, instilling existential apprehensions in them, I felt compelled to write, and as this sickness wound its way round the globe, decimating populations, and as governments reacted each and every way, to try to stamp it out, or not, I continued expressing my thoughts and feelings about the situation in poetic forms.

 

After a while however, I felt this need to write about the impending Apocalypse, waning, but there were other topics and considerations that were also of importance that in my view needed to be written about. So this book became considerably more than just commenting on awful developments beyond my control. The main poem ("Tunnel to the Island") the one that was my starting point is quite lengthy, around seventy pages. I wrote the first part of it in a free flowing verse style, and the second part is in Sapphic stanza. I complemented this foundation of the book with other poems dealing with subjects that have been brewing in me over the last few years. It includes another longer poem, ”Unveiling”, and a written, not composed “Sonata” as well as two experimental poems, one of which bears the title "ریحانا" (Rihanna).”

 

 

Time,

An early awareness of the impermanence of life while playing in a London cemetery, a reminiscence written on the night-train from Rome to Munich about love, lost but not forgotten, Alexis Tinsley Pope’s collection of poetry, "Time" encompasses a wide range of subjects and emotion, it is a lyrical, expansive, and meditative work.

  • Language : English

  • Paperback : 133 pages

  • ISBN-10 : 1726874834

  • ISBN-13 : 978-1726874830

  • Item Weight : 6.6 ounces

  • Dimensions : 6 x 0.3 x 9 inches

 

 

 

 

 

BETWEEN BABELS

This is a powerful meditative work full of life, passion, lyricism and humour which echoes the contradictions of contemporary life. Alexis Tinsley Pope’s poetry collection “Between Babels” deals with subjects such as birth, death, love and sorrow, as well as philosophy, metaphysics and being. The title of this anthology and the poem of the same name “Between Babels” describes a perception that he has that he exists between traditions that are to a certain extent juxtaposed to each other - possessing quite different histories, qualities and narratives. 

  • Language : English

  • Paperback : 202 pages

  • ISBN-10 : 179047227X

  • ISBN-13 : 978-1790472277

  • Dimensions : 16 x 1.3 x 21.41 cm




Fading Faces

Fading faces, oceans' serenity tones                                                                                                                  paradise a-wash, disregards the two humped                                                                                    pregnancy, estranged from the body, deaths rouse                                                                              continents ancient  

 

Torment we know not, but the movement; sweet tailled                                                                                Venus moves across and reclines in calm chaos,                                                                                          her inversion, horse shoe for hoards approaching,                                                                          strawberries excretes

 

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