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Poetry by Claude Anthony
Claude Anthony is the pen name for a poet, cultural savant and servant. His involvement in the arts goes back to his childhood and to participation in school plays and concerts at the primary and secondary school level. At university he studied technical theater and participated in a number of the student productions as well as in presentations for the university's theater department, most often, as a technician. After many years backstage he returned to performance in SVG, first in the radio series “Oh Daddy” aired in 2001 and in live poetry readings with Closet Writers in 2005. From 2006 to 2007 he read at several Dusty Owl readings in Ottawa, Canada. In 2008 he stepped back onto stage for a live presentation of “Oh Daddy”, reviving his role as “Rick”, the irreverent Reverend from the original radio series. These days his on stage time arises when he presents his original poems or reads works from Caribbean poets. He was a regular at Rush Underground in 2010 - 2011 and from 2012 he has been a frequent performance guest at various Writer's Flow presentations and at Poetry Nites at SOV club. He recently published a book of poetry titled Thoughts and Images for Those Days, published by Hobo Jungle Press and available on


On female form we dwell In this ode to breasts so swell All shapes All sizes Be they oblong or round Small or grand Perky or droopy Even those mismatched As medium and large same place are cached Chests so stacked Bent are the backs Chests so flat Fronts could be backs Whatever they may be Certainly For me The pleasure they provide To both possessor and “I” Justifies Taking time to record What we have heard That the bird we presently hold Has the best breast in the world

Friend Ships

Sailing past each other We meet We greet Frequently You call me Frequently Because of what you wish to get Frequently I call you Because of what I hope to get We meet We greet Frequently I get what you want You don't get what I wish Now… Frequently You don't call me Now… Frequently no more frequently
I've been looking  At a writer  Put more de-fine-ingly  A right her  but I'm blocked   Can't find the words  to: impress her move her  melt her    Why does writer's block  occur at the most in-opportune time?  Why does my pen flow  So smoothly when I'm alone?  Then when I'm at Flow  No words, I get bone...dry?  How I wish I could tell her  That her wit excites me  That her smile intoxicates me  That her chocolate melts me   Would she be intrigued  Interjection I wish to make Or would I be dismissed  Rejection is so hard to take  so hard    Please  let me breathe  I plead  But you do not know you take my breath away  So I die a slow death from distant admiration     Writer’s Block 6