“Clear Dew” Ibuse

The night disappears.
The morning birds work and sing.
Much needs to be done.


          “Clear Dew” Ibuse

He hides his talons,
the hawk with ability,
looking overall.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of natural settings and Japanese poetic forms.


          “Wired Clues” Abe

The baby’s entranced
by the faucet’s falling stream,
while taking a bath.


          “Wired Clues” Abe

It heads to Ky’iv,
the forty mile convoy:
Blitzkrieg 101.

“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet using Japanese forms united with technology, who although he appreciates the Gendai movement and New Rising Haiku, very much admires traditional haiku.


          by War di Belecuse

As Russian military missiles rain upon Ukraine,
democracy is dying in the light as lots abstain.

War di Belecuse is a poet of war. Nations that opposed condemning Ruusian aggression against Ukraine included Russia, Belarus, North Korea, Eritrea, and Syria. Nations that ab-stained included Algeria, Angola, Armenia, Bangladesh, Bolivia, Burundi, Communist China, Congo, Cuba, El Salvador, Equitorial Guinea, India, Iran, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Kyrghyzstan, Lao PDR, Madagascar, Mali, Mongolia, Mozambique, Namibia, Nicaragua, Pakistan, Senegal, South Africa, South Sudan, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Tajikistan, Uganda, Tanzania, Vietnam, and Zimbabwe.


Ukraine Has Been Abandoned
          by Radice Lebewsu
          “I need ammunition, not a ride.”
              —Volodymyr Zelensky

You crane your neck to see what’s happened. It’s hard to believe.
Ukraine has been abandoned to an army’s shitty deeds.
Taut cities taught a lesson that they did not want to learn,
o, Lord, bombarded by cruise missiles and artillery.
This horrid blitz so deadly, swift, unlike supposèd friends
in blocking rushin’ Hawks from Swift and smaller, northern Wren.
Highrises damaged, sandwiched in between exploding bombs,
o, urban centers drilled, civilians killed, by Russian mobs.
You look around, and everywhere you look you see debris,
the fierce claw euthanizing Nightingale, Dove and Grebe.


Ky’iv in a Winter Evening
          by Radice Lebewsu

With reason, guides have praised its beauty and its treasured gifts,
blue waters, green ravines, and blinding landscaped drops and lifts.
Alas, barbarian-destroying hermocopides
are using missiles on the architecture of Ky’iv.
Now scenes of devastation follow streets with spitefulness,
tanks, drunk with power, roll into the city’s frightful mess.
And in the eve of night upon this very anguished hour,
old chestnut trees without their leaves are languishing and dour.
The rubble and the fires have left a horrid string of scars,
yet still it stands, though overcast and emptying of cars.

Radice Lebewsu is a poet of Ukraine. Volodymyr Zelensky is the NewMillennial actor and heroic leader of Ukraine. The second tennos draws from Neoclassical Ukrainian Modernist poet Mykola Zerov (1890-1937) who was executed by the Russian Communists for his poetry.


March 2, 2022
          by Radice Lebewsu

Above the city, shines moon’s silver nib—a beak in space,
a stone-block beacon, grief and dreams, upon each freakin’ face.
It’s quite unusual, not noticed, in this century,
the black mute fields, wanderers of night’s dread venturing.

It’s quite unusual—Ukrainians against this might—
amidst this monitor and desk—this willingness to fight.
The ceilings disappear, the walls are crum-bl-ing apart,
like they weren’t anywhere at all…the cluttered roads so hard.

I hear the shouts, the cries of land, the evil fi-re-brands;
yet in the darkness, see the Sun and eagle rise up, grand.
These first thoughts fly upon the vetch, sunflowers in the blue;
but, o, these bloody days are very difficult to view.

Radice Lebewsu is a poet of Ukraine. This poem draws from the Ukrainian Neoclassical poet Pavlo Fylypovych (1891-1937) execcuted by the Communist Russians for his poetry.


Retired Major John Spencer’s Advice
          by War di Belecuse

As skirmishes for the control of Ukraine’s capital,
intensified with airstrikes, and battalions backed its fall,
Retired Major Spencer, West Point’s Urban Warfare chair
has recommended turning Ky’iv into a NightMare,
a porcupine to fight the Russian military blitz
with quills across the city, up and down its many streets,
by filling bridges, blocking them with cars, trucks, wood and stash,
with anything that they can get their hands on, concrete, trash,
and building S-like obstacles to slow the Russians down;
thus turning Ky’iv into a tight dense mess of a town.

War di Belecuse is a poet of war. Ky’iv is the capital and largest city of Ukraine with a recent population of around 3,000,000, but dropping due to fleeing civilians and deaths from Putin’s activated war machine.


Ukrainians want a no-fly zone over the Ukraine;
but what they get is Puton’s reign of terror missile rain.


          by Lars U. Ice Bedew

Sibelius’ Finlandia opens
with an ominous, slow-paced beginning
that dissolves into a soft hope and
a slowly rising belief in winning
something out of all that misery.
That out of that negative inertia
comes the triumphant is a mystery.
From hard despair, a heart-felt assertion
comes, so lovely in its aspiration.
It becomes a summons for a people.
It becomes the anthem of a nation.
It creates power out of the feeble.
It becomes a paean, a poem, a prayer,
and Sibelius is its conveyor.

Lars U. Ice Bedew is a poet of Suomi (Finland). Jean Sibelius (1865-1957) was a Finnish Modernist composer.


The Snow-White Swan
          by E. Birdcaws Eule

The snow-white swan with black-and-orange beak preens feathered wings,
he opens to the Sun to dry, amidst such ruf-fl-ings.
His neck is curved, like as an ess, a floating, billowed lyre;
for Ruben Dario, he was an image to inspire.

He’s looking down upon the pond, a pool of food to eat:
roots, tubers, stems, and leaves of plants below, submerged beneath.
Regarded as a luxury food item at the time
of Edmund Spenser, the dispenser of great English rhyme.

E. Birdcaws Eule is a poet of birds. Edmund Spenser (c.1552-1599) was an Elizabethan English poet; Ruben Dario (1867-1916) was a Nicaraguan Modernismo poet.


Portending War
          by Red Was Iceblue

The M. C. Escher 1938 woodcut portends
the coming war approaching farm fields in the Netherlands.
At left, a flock of black geese in-formation fly up high
o’er winding river and a village with cathedral spire.
Upon the right, a mirror image, with white geese at night,
is flying airplane-like, across the dark, with little light.
The geese seem to emerge out of distorted square-shaped fields,
revealing patterns ominous and threatening stark yields,
dimensional, abstract, compact, touched both by flight and fright,
his fading and arising, tessellated “Day and Night.”


In a Picasso Painting
          by Red Was Iceblue
          “…where oil had spread a rainbow/ around the rusted engine…”
              —Elizabeth Bishop, “The Fish”

Abandoned to oblivion, he reached the abdomen.
Just that alone had brought him homeward to the jutting chin.
Traps, delts, biceps and pecs, as well as infraspinatus—
that mensch—he clenched his shoulders, like the soldier that he was.
There were so many routes to take, so where would he arrive,
if he was traveling down streets, down lengthy roads, alive?
He felt, like as a cubehead turned in á symmetric group,
translated and rotated, o, reflected in a pool.
There mirrored in a crass Picasso, colourful and large,
observing in the bottom, the bilge of a jarring barge.

Red Was Iceblue is a poet of Modernist, PostModernist and New Millennial art. M. C. Escher (1898-1972) was a Dutch Modernist painter. Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) was a Spanish Modernist painter and sculptor; Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) was a PostModern American poet.


The Biden admin keeps allowing buying Russian oil;
but will not free up US pipelines as a Russian foil.


Morning Exercise
          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”

A cup of coffee: it was time for morning exercise;
bench presses after stretches after early dawn’s sunrise.
Loose fitting clothes, both top and bottom, with or without socks.
What’s key is movement in a groove, and timely, well-placed clocks.
O, bending and distending muscles, going back and forth,
as well as up and down, around, right-angled, anchored, orth.
In reps, biceps, pec deck, neck, delts; hips launched like freighted ships;
up high, down low, arms, legs and more, bent knees, descending dips.
A thorough overall performance is what is required,
until one’s tired and rewired, to reach what is desired.

Rudi E. Welec, “Abs” is a poet of exercise. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, the neologism “orth” is a trunc of orthogonal, that is, of or relating to a matrix whose transpose equals its in-verse, or relating to a linear transformation that preserves the length of its vectors. Of inspirational NewMillennial Americans, he admires former marine, fitness trainer and conservationist Rudolpho “Rudy” Reyes.


Through and Through
          by Slider Cubeawe

Discovery of finding patterns is a complex task,
and data-visual analysis hard to extract,
especi’lly when it’s beauty one is searching to include
the spatiotemporal multivaried hypercube.
By focusing upon the ways of fakirs, yogis, monks,
as well as the philosophers and scientists with spunk,
one can achieve a way of seeking goodness and the truth
by recognizing life’s importance moving) through and through
(for there one can find happiness or bliss or ecstasy
in any of life’s many ABCs…X, Y, and Z.

Slider Cubeawe is a poet of alternate universes.