Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
The cat curls up, where
one seated goes from his chair:
he wants to be there.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of Japanese poetic forms. One of his favourite Japanese prose and haiku writers is Natsume Soseki (1867-1915), author who uses, as a common house cat, a high-register phrasing in his satirical novel “I Am a Cat”. .
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Haiku
by E “Birdcaws” Eule
Tweet, tweet, peep, repeat,
the chirping dickcissel cheeps,
perching on a limb..
E “Birdcaws” Eule is a poet of Japanese poetic forms, like haiku. He admires the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), to whom he pay homage in the following haiku.
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Haiku
by E “Birdcaws” Eule
On a leafless branch,
a scissor -tailed flycatcher:
the first day of spring.
Haiku
by E “Birdcaws” Eule
A morning dove perched
on an auburn varnished fence
drops a plop of poop.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The new backyard fence,
varnished an auburn pecan,
draws squirrels and birds.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Autos, vans and trucks,
at the motor speedway park:
drive-in vaccine lines.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
On tornado watch,
looking for a hook-echo,
a funnel touchdown.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Buzz saws, hammer taps,
rumbling trucks, moving boards, slaps:
mariachi tunes.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Shining silvery,
towering high into sky,
electric spires rise.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of technology in English, using Japanese forms. Over 1,000,000,000 doses of the Russian COVID vaccine Sputnik V have been administered across the Globe.
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Beach Bum Introspection
by Walibee Scrude
He got into the lotus pose, It was out at the beach.
The Sun was shining on the sandy flat within his reach.
He perched upon a comfy place, beside a wall of rocks.
He felt like as he was surrounded by some patient gods.
He bent his knees, he stretched his legs, his arms firm at his sides.
He looked off to his right to ride the sky and ocean tides.
He felt like as a surfer perched precarious…at sea.
The sunny rays poured over him. He longed to feel a breeze…
to be at ease! o, yeah, He focused on his state of mind.
His inner eye was open. O, could he reach the divine?
Over New South Wales
by Walibee Scrude
Torrential rains have fallen over New-South-Wales tent.
Australia’s having a once-in-a-century event.
Large swaths have been declared a natural catastrophe;
rains inundating countrysides and large communities.
A major dam flowed over, swelling rivers, streams and creeks,
from Hunter Valley near by Sydney to Coff’s Harbour streets,
The heavy rains contributed to this disaster’s play,
but training too, along the coast, has kept relief at bay.
Day after day the rain comes down, when will it go away?
Australians have to wait awhile for the rain to abate.
Walibee Scrude is a poet of Australia. In addition to the thousands of displaced people, livestock and pets, for some there was a spider plague, as spiders strove to reach higher ground.
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Newsreel:
The Communist Chinese claim nearly all South China Sea,
including economic zones, like by the Philippines.
The Communist Chinese ride rough-shod over many lands,
like Philippines, Brunei, Taiwan, Malaysia, Vietnam.
This month more than two-hundred boats pressed in upon the coast,
into the Filipino water, economic zone;
they pressed into the shallow, boomerang-shaped coral reef,
and gave the Filipino coast guard arrogance and grief.
But this is nothing new considering the Wuhan flu,
more than two-million-seven-hundred-thousand deaths so far.
Note:
Sheer anarchy is loosed upon the World everywhere.
TransNaional CrimeSyndicates breed hatred and despair.
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A Meditation’s Ride
by Sri Wele Cebuda
He got into the lotus pose; his head turned to the right.
The sky above, the sky around, the sky below, was white.
For meditation’s prize, he stretched his legs out to each side.
He felt like as he rode upon a wild, fair-ground ride.
He was so hot, he sweat a lot; his face was glistening.
He focused, yeah, upon each sound. O, he was listening.
He wore a white band on his wrist; it didn’t tell the time.
Above, below, o, all around, o, all he saw was light.
If he weren’t seated on that ride, he would have taken flight.
He grabbed the lever most securely, holding on for life.
On the horizon one could see the park attendant’s face,
not grinning, grimacing, or grim, nor gratified with grace.
“Everydays”
by Esca Webuilder
For millions—69.3—his NFT was sold.
The digital art-piece by Beeples has turned into gold.
The buyer of his “Everydays” receives essentially
a massive JPEG of 5,000 pics tangentially,
along with longish strings of numbers and of letters too,
a decade’s worth of ordinary pictures in this view.
Upon the Net
by Esca Webuilder
He gets upon the Net, while sitting in the lotus pose.
He feels like as a water lily in another zone.
Filled with anticipation and intense, o, anxiousness;
excitedly awaiting reaching higher consciousness.
He stretches out his legs; he sits up tall, and types away,
but what kind of enlightenment can he achieve this day?
He feels shackled to a laptop linked electric’lly,
like as a mindless slave plugged in to productivity.
Though inner eye be open’d, what can he see upon the Net?
O, little more than what he can not easily forget.
Esca Webuilder is a poet of the Net. NFTs are non-frangible tokens. Beeples is a contemporary artist.
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A Democratic Challenge
by Caud Sewer Bile
It’s not a border crisis—“It’s a challenge.”—so they say.
Each week the tens of thousands cross into the USA.
Among the economic migrants fleeing poverty,
corrupt, gang-ridden nations filled with crime and misery,
not so unlike the major cities in America,
diseased, in fear, the masses flee to reach some paradise.
The vice is tightened. Here they come. The Chinese virus soars.
Remember when what Mexico produced was silver oar.
For businesses, the drugs pour in; cheap labour makes them glad;
men, women, children-—all in cages—–does not make them sad.
Caud Sewer Bile is a poet of the Swamp. Where is the accounting of all the COVID infections being let loose in the nation and bused to northern states, like Connecticut, Illinois, Montana, etc.
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Naomi Wolf on “Eat the Press”
by Cawb Edius Reel
Last Friday Biden tripped three times while boarding Air Force One.
The clip went viral round the Globe; the final tumble bum.
Although she voted for the present White House Resident,
on “Eat the Press”, expressed alarm at the state of the gent.
Americans would be remiss to not observe or see
his health requires thought for national security.
She also said, he’s gutting First and Fourth Amendment Rights:
his biofascist lockdown rants particularly bite.
“He has no right…to tell—[not] anyone where they can go”,
nor whom or what they see or say within their “private home.
Cawb Edius Reel is a poet of radio, TV, and film. Naomi Wolf is a contemporary author. Is it misinformation when she suggests that the US government, big banks, and high-tech companies are imposing an integrated corporate-state repression of dissent?
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Strawberry Crepes
by Carb Deliseuwe
They are like air—strawberry crepes—o, draped across the plate.
White squiggly whipping cream zig-zags o’er tasty pastry freight.
They melt like cotton candy in the mouth upon the tongue,
so paper-thin, when they go in, such artistry unspun.
Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of cuisine.
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At the Art Gallery
by Beau Ecs Wilder
Here was a gorgeous painting framed in gold upon the wall,
though in that lovely gallery, none looked at it at all.
A young man crouched upon a couch below its shining bay;
but though he was beside the picture, turned his head away.
He sprawled upon that black divan; his eyes were open wide.
But he was not observing them—the landscape and the sky.
Another older guy, off to its side, was unconcerned.
While working on a minor project, his head downward turned.
His right thumb rested carefully upon present task;
but what it was was hard to tell. O, who was there to ask?
Was it a Turner near that rugged, kneeling, taller dude,
involved so deeply in his task, the picture was eschewed.
Magnificent the painting, hanging on the bright, white wall;
but there was no one there to see it—nobody at all.
Beau Ecs Wilder is a poet of painting. J. M. W. Turner (1775-1851) was a noted English Romantic painter.
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