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by Birdee Euclaws
Red-tail’d hawk wings spread
out autumn-coloured over
red hackberry trees.
Birdee Euclaws is a poet of birds in Japanese forms. His favourite bird poem is “The Windhover” by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
by “Wired Clues” Abe
They tumble along
down the sidewalks, streets and lawns,
the leaves of autumn.
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Above the rooftops
curves a slender lunar smile.
It’s a Cheshire cat.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of Japanese forms in English.
The Empire Ghenghis Khan Decreed
by Si Ulec Badewer
“In Xanadu did Kubla Khan/ A stately pleasure-dome decree.”
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Chinese Communists are now attempting to erase
the Mongol Genghis Khan from history, destroy his place.
His em-pi-re became the largest ever known or seen;
but now the Chinese do not want it ever to have been.
It went from the Pacific Ocean to the blue Danube;
from 1206, for many years, the ulu orda ruled.
But in Inner Mongolia, stone tablets of his life
were painted over and destroyed with metaphoric knife.
Mongolians can’t be allowed to be proud of their past.
Imperial Han China will not let his story last.
Si Ulec Badewer is a poet of the Mongolians. The ulu orda translates in English to the Golden Horde.
The Communists Are Killing Hong Kong’s Democracy
by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei
Hong Kong lawmakers quit en masse; democracy’s been rent.
The Chinese Communist jackboots are stomping out dissent.
The people have been beaten and arrested there in droves,
and now the Communists demand a loyal test imposed.
They targeted four on the Legislative Council floor;
so all the members of the council have walked out the door.
In one fell swoop, the Communists have killed democracy.
here in the bastion of Hong Kong, once home of liberty,
Who will remember them? Free speech is dying rapidly.
Ken Yeung, Alvin Yeung, Dennis Kwok and Kwok Ka-ki.
Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei is a poet of China, and its present dictatorship of the tyrant Xi Jinping.
A Russian Helicopter Is Shot Down
by Darius Belewed
A Russian helicopter Mi-24 has crashed
as it was flying in Armenia. It has been smashed.
It has been shot by a SAM missile from Azerbaijan.
Two pilots died. They lost control. An accident, or plan?
Azerbaijan said it’s prepared to compensate for this,
accepting blame for what they did. They are indeed remiss.
But they continue to attack civilian, carry on
the murder of Nagorno-Karabakh Armenias.
The fighting has not paused at all. There is no phasing down.
The genocide continues as the battle rages on.
A Forceful Peace
by Darius Belewec
The Russian defense ministry on Tuesday last has said
they started to deploy some 1900 servicemen
in the Nagorno-Karabakh to forge a forceful peace,
in order that the killing and hostilities would cease.
Armenian, Azerbaijan, and Russian leaders signed
a peace accord to stop belligerents along the line.
Peacekeepers have been airlifted from Russia in the north
to make the ceasefire hold, preventing fighting going forth.
But what about the people of Nagorno-Karabakh?
Will they be sacrificed to murderers due to this pact?
Darius Belewec is a poet of Armenia. Several thousands of people have died since Azerbaijan with help from Turkey attacked Nagorno-Karabakh.
Words From the Digital Republic of Estonia
“ainult lammas lasebennast pügada”
—an Estonian proverb
The Minister of the Interior, Estonia,
has now resigned from government he finds too phony, ah.
He called America’s election “falsified” results.
and Joe and Hunter Biden “scumbags”, both of them corrupt.
Mart Helme said they “benefitted from the deep-state crowd”/.
But honest free speech in Estonia is not allowed.
His son then said the US vote was not “legitimate”.
And, too, “there is no question this election has been rigged”.
How strange it is to find one’s country spoken of like this.
He said, “the Constitution won’t apply in the US.”
Adrus Webeceli is a poet of the digital republic, Estonia. Estonia is known for its clean elections, where people vote on-line, and voter fraud can be monitored. The Estonian proverb translates into English” “Only a sheep allows himself to be sheared.”
by Eswar Luc Seibe
The days are getting cooler and the leaves are falling down.
It happens gradu’lly; it is almost without a sound.
The days are getting colder and the trees are almost bare,
as autumn reaches out for winter, emptying the air.
The days are getting cloudier; the clouds fill up the sky.
The heat subsides as autumn passes from the watchful eye.
The days are getting clearer; autumn winds blow birds aloft.
The people don much thicker clothes, the thinner ones are doffed.
The days are getting darker as the blinding sun abates,
Some people are more thoughtful as they contemplate their fates.
Edward Luc Seibe is a poet of metaphoric meteorology.
A Bridge Between the Past and Future
by R. Lee Ubicwedas
He didn’t have to try to be a bridge between the past
and future, no, for in the present, he was there. Avast!
He wondered just how long it was, and how long it would last.
his time there, o, beneath the Sun into which he’d been cast.
He tried to hold on for dear life; both forth and back held fast.
Though time was rocking with the tide and he controlled the mast.
He was whipped back and forth between the future and the past,
but he held on, confronting both, with fortitude amassed.
He fought back hard with gusto, though he truly was harassed:
a memory, a premonition; he was sorely tasked.
R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet of Ubiquity.
The Man Upon a Waterfall
by Bud “Weasek” Rice
“The sounding cataract/ Haunted me like a passion…”
—William Wordsworth, “Tintern Abbey”
He got into the lotus pose, upon his seat he plopped,
as if from some great height unceremoniously dropped.
He felt as if her were upon a rolling water fall.
Not far off from where he was at, he saw an otter loll.
He stretched his arms out wide, as if he were embracing air,
content to be where he was at, so happy to be there.
The scene was set, invigorating, bracing, splashing, fresh.
He felt as if he were about, with nature, to enmesh.
He held precariously there onto that lofty limb.
But if he fell from that height it could be the end of him.
Bud “Weasel” Rice is a poet of nature.
by Euclidrew Base
“Curiouser and curiouser…”
There are a lot of number things that Bedford’s Law suggests:
like frequency of the first digits of a data set,
as well as distributions of the second and the third,
and number combinations that may verge on the absurd.
So it is very strange that Twitter wants to banish it.
Is Bedford’s Law so frightening that it must vanish it?
And why is Facebook censoring all mention of the law
relating to the possibility of voter fraud?
There couldn’t be a ballot dump, could there? in Michigan?
Detroit should not fear Bedford’s Law. Pray tell, why banish it?
Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics, Frank Albert Bedford, Jr. (1883-1948) was an American electrical engineer and physicist who ironically graduated from the University of Michigan.
The Swamp Adder (Vipera arietans)
by Bud “Weasel” Rice
“It is a swamp adder!”
—Sherlock Holmes, “The Speckled Band”
It is among the deadliest of snakes in all the World,
the speckled band, Swamp Adder, lethal curled or uncurled.
It has a fatal, neurotoxic venom at its fangs,
fast-acting, rendering its victims with lethargic pangs.
So low and slow it goes along in search of victim hoods
that it can share its filthy lucre with, and stolen goods.
It has th’ ability to climb up walls and go through vents.
It loves demonic rats and rhinos in green jungles dense..
It’s yellow, and has brownish spots; it crawls about big bogs;
yet it is very hard to see, especi’lly in thick fogs.
Its head is squat and diamond-shaped; it has a puffed-up neck.
Beware the poisonous Swamp Adder, death by den or deck.
Bud “Weasel” Rice is a poet of nature. The author of the short crime story “The Speckled Band” was Arthur Cona Doyle (1859-1930).
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