This is a small collection of Anthony's poetry from his forth coming book;

 Spoken through a Quill.

From an early age, a desire grew in me to express a view that was held deep within, that I couldn't foreclose with verbal words.  I siezed upon a pen that dreamt of an inky path to capture thoughts of glacier moments of warring torment to be freed, so I could bear the fruitfulness or peeling likeness of a peach. 

   

 

Smart
 
My tear is due to anguish
Behind a shattering plea
I know no part that's like it
This pain that's eating me.
 
I whinge, I cringe, a cripple
The chart is leaping high
I shriek, I creak to speak
My back an aching sigh.
 
A pinch, I flinch, it hurts
It seems extreme I know
It's top, then drop, please stop
I wish this pain would go.
 
It's terror through an error
This twinge that lives in me
It's smart to use kinetics
But smart is not pain free.

  

  

Public Loo
 
Necessity had taken over,
My legs were crossed too long,
I need to find a toilet -
Regardless of state or pong.
 
There's one just round the corner,
The sign was big and blue,
In short, sharp, jerky movements
I found that public loo.
 
The cubicle was nice and clean -
It only cost twenty pee!
The toilet door it wouldn't close,
Kept bouncing against my knee.
 
But I didn't let that stop me,
I just stood upon the seat
And now it closed just nicely
To complete my massive feat.
 
This only left the paperwork
And will make my piles cry
It's difficult to wipe and shine
As the toilet roll's cheap ply.

 

 

Psychology.

Swatting up on psychology,
The phobias immense!
The introverts, the extroverts,
It all made logical sense.
Hysteria, inferior,
The scars, a bruise, the cuts,
One thing that it did explain,
Caution!
This book contains some nuts.

 

 Ignore in Length

 
The argument was yonks ago!
All that bitterness to bear,
Almost as if, we are strangers,
Almost as if, we didn't care.
 
I wonder what you're doing now,
I'm sure you're older, no doubt,
But are you any the wiser?
will your anger see me out?
 
I think of you, I really do!
But you'll never see me cry,
Annual events and seasoned times,
Still! It's one less present to buy.  

 

 

Lord
 
Lord, this be a church
Where people mass to pray
Your spirit surrounds them all
You gave them thought today.
 
Lord, this be your spirit
In hymn they start to sing
Like angels in their unison
They gather under wing.
 
Lord, this be my life
I give to you with sin
You gave your only son
For this rebirth to begin.