by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
Climbing to the sky,
the tall oak tree flourishes,
no part of it shy.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of natural settings and Japanese poetic forms.
by “Wired Clues” Abe
With a turtle’s smile,
into the plastic bath tub,
the small baby plops.
“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.
Ferdinand “Bongbong” Markos, Jr., won a landslide vote,
the first majority elected President tide float.
Sara Duterte, mayor of Davao, his running mate
united scions of two famous families of late.
The Philippines rejected weak elites for unity.
One wondered was that better for a strong community.
by Li “Sacred Bee” Du
Surprisingly, Du Fu failed his exam.
Was he too dense? or too original?
Was he too studied? Did he try to cram
too much, and, therefore, was unpractical?
The second time he failed, his sense had erred;
th’ unscrupulous prime minister declared
each candidate’s attempt was vain, since he
desired no change in the bureaucracy.
Though late in life, at forty-six or so,
he managed to get an official post;
it was the Ministry of Works, although,
it was associate, not much to boast,
which may have helped him keep a humble heart,
while all around him China fell apart.
Li “Sacred Bee” Du is a poet of Ancient Chinese literature. Du Fu (712-770) was a poet of the Tang Dynasty.
“The Chinese government protects the rights…of journalists”,
according to Liu Pengyu, propagandist communist;
but Blinken says they’re using “free and open media”
to spread disinformation and to censor dissidents:
that wouldn’t happen in the USA from democrats;
who’re open to all kinds of thoughts and former Presidents.
Like As a Serpent
by W. Israel Ebecud
Like as a serpent in a garden, sitting on a chair,
I saw him rising, winding, climbing upward in the air.
But adamant, a man nearby, was ready for a bite.
He pulled the apple close to him. O, would its taste excite?
This tree of knowledge, both of good and evil, looming there,
the beauty of the eve, o, shining in that serpent’s lair.
He longed to sample that fruit’s ample flesh before his face.
He longed to take it in his hands and taste it in that place.
But what would happen if he did? O, God, what would occur?
The thought of it rolled through his mind. But could the dude demur?
A Journey to Haran and Back
by W. Israel Ebecud
He strode across the arid desert land,
his caftan covering each tan calf and
large sandals on his feet, his each step grand.
This thick-set man turned heel, and left his land.
It is so hard to follow God’s command.
The air was hot and dry. The place was bland.
There was nowhere that head nor hair was fanned.
At times his life was more than he could stand.
Somehow he stood it tall: the tribal band,
the ladder in the dream, the angels scanned,
descending and ascending, a thousand,
the bridal klan, the rams and lambs to brand,
the time he had to stand, the distance spanned,
th’ expanding sham unfairness, all unplanned,
the rocks and stones, from any softness banned,
no gleaming silver gleaned, nor bright gold panned,
the stranger met, the hard and fierce demand,
the wrestling match, he strove with God, unmanned,
the stranded feeling, left to understand
to turn the cheek, to check the arm and hand.
W. Israel Ebecud is a poet of Israel. The above poem is a qaṣīdah, that maintains a single endrhyme.
As Russian troops keep murdering the people of Ukraine,
Vladimir Putin marked another Victory parade.
The city centre of Kharkiv, has been destroyed by bombs;
but Russian troops around Kharkiv are slowly backing off.
Reports suggest Ukrainians have reached great Russia’s edge.
Are assets being transferred to Donbas and th’ southern ledge?
May 10, the AFU destroyed an Mi-24,
the Russian helicopter “Crocodile” flying o’er.
They used the Stinger MANPADS up against their enemy.
The Air Force of Ukraine, though limited, is venomous.
No Robin Hood
by Ercules Edibwa
He was no Robin Hood—that man, dressed all in green and brown;
although one found him in the forest far away from town.
He was no gentleman; in fact, he seemed to be quite gruff;
nor Englishman who loved to be out in the woodland rough.
I wondered where he had come from—that haughty, naughty dude.
One did not want to pass by him, because he was so rude.
Like as the wild Ancient Grecians, he struck fear in those
unlucky to approach him in those hard and leafy groves.
I only, one time, saw his victim, calling out for help;
yet there was nothing I could do, but flee that groaning yelp.
Ercules Edibwa is a poet of Ancient Greece.
by Aedile Cwerbus
Cicero, at the end of the republic, shows
us the futility of th’ individual
of principles when he is pitted against foes
ready to violate his laws. Residual
defense is all he has to confront enemies,
and in such instances is downright pitiful.
He has so little chance against the venomous.
And yet, his stand counts. As pathetic as it is,
it is an antidote to the vile animus
that plagues this earth; it can remind a Tacitus,
years later, that amidst his sadness and his woes,
better does exist even if he can’t have it.
Aedile Cwerbus is a poet of Ancient Rome. Marcus Tullius Cicero (107 BC – 43 BC) was a noted proset of the Golden Age in Latin literature, Publius Cornelius Tacitus (c. 56 – c. 120) was an historian of the Silver Age in Latin literature.
In an Alternate Reality
by Slider Cubeawe
I saw him in an alternate reality of sorts,
but it was undeniable, concrete and corporal.
He sat beside a monitor, near climbing oak-tree trunks,
his torso out, but he was not one of time’s muscle hunks,
nor was he some brave soldier fighting Russians in Ukraine,
nor proset writing fictives from the Golden Age of Spain.
In fact, he was no more than just another poet on
this turning planet in this moving universal Nall.
And yet, o, yes, I saw him striving to achieve a place
where he could thrive and be alive in inner-outer space.
Slider Cubeawe is a poet of alternate universes. He sees cubes in front of him, behind him, above him, below him, to the left of him, and to the right of him. He realized this tesselation of 3D space is only one of an infinite number of potential spaces. On February 24, 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, killing thousands and terrorizing millions. The Golden Age of Spain, El Siglo de Oro was approximately 1492-1689. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, proset is prose writer, and Nall is the great null all.
A Massive, Slow Alsatian
by Euclidrew Base
Equations, differential, geometric’lly approached,
that massive, slow Alsatian, later bald—completely so—
first introduced a foliation of the hypersphere,
two solid tori with a shared boundary, a strong stout beer.
Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics and mathematicians. Alsace is a region of northeastern France, with a population of around 1,800,000. Amongst the numerous mathematicians of the 20th century, another mathematician he admires is French PostModernist Georges Reeb (1920-1993).
Upon the Patio
by R. Lee Ubicwedas
He gazes high into the sky to watch the jets go by.
He longs to take a trip himself. He loves to see them fly.
So beautiful, so powerful, they pass above him there.
Upon the patio he stands out in the open air.
He sees the lawn, its watering, revolving spigots spray,
in black socks, blue jeans, silver necklace, under cloudy gray.
He has a cup of coffee with some sweet Italian cream.
The day is getting hotter, to some 90+°.
It’s not a dream. It’s but reality, yes, it is true.
The man is focused on the windy, fresh and derring-do.
R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet of Reality.
by Ileac Burweeds
It was a sunny day. He had gone to a bright green grove;
but he was only going for a hike; it was not love.
He wore a dark-green baseball cap on backwards. He was set,
enjoying all the scenery that he could see and get.
Although his eyes were narrow and his lips were tense and pursed,
he was pumped up environmentally—perhaps he’d burst.
O, he was glad to be right there in Nature’s ripened grip,
fresh-smelling, leafy air, the breezy sweep past face and hip.
He felt renewed, his strength imbued. He leaned back in to it—
that gorgeous slide into life’s glide—so comfortably fit.
Ileac Burweeds is a poet of Nature.
by Bridle Cue Awes
He was a bustin’ bronco standing in the race-track stand.
He looked like as a TV Western dude in la la land.
He stared intently at the passersby. He had a bet.
The odds, at 80 to 1, were a long-shot at the best.
Yet, still he watched that chestnut colt blast round the final stretch:
Rich Strike was leading Epicenter, Zandon came in next.
Ethereal Road had scratched earlier, and that was why
Reed’s horse got in and jockey Leon gave him his great ride.
He was the longest shot to win Kentucky Derby fame
since 1913, back when Donerail made his name.
He took another sip of coffee from his plug-ug mug.
Because of some dumb lucky bet, ho, things were looking up.
Bridle Cue Awes is a poet of horses and horse racing. The Kentucky Derby takes place in Louisville, Kentucky, a city of 600,000+.
The rouble has recovered all its losses, and made gains,
since Putin’s Russia started the harsh War in the Ukraine;
because it has great reservoirs of nat’ral gas and oil,
significant gold bullion, and the Chinese as a foil.
Recent US Inflation
by Brad Lee Suciew
The year-on-year inflation data for the USA
has paused from its four-decades highs. One hopes, and waits, for May:
Brad Lee Suciew is a poet of governmental business statistics. It was at the end of February, on February 24, 2022, Putin’s Russia began the horrid war on Ukraine. Inflation this high in the US hasn’t been seen since the early 1980s.
Inflation rates across the Earth now vary quite a bit.
Among the lowest are Japan and Chad with one percent.
Three nations have more than 200: they include Sudan,
Venezuela, and the tiny land of Lebanon.
Lebanon was mentioned in the epic “Gilgamesh”, in relation to its cedars. In the epic, Gilgamesh and Enkidu travel to the Cedars of Lebanon, where they kill the Bull of Heaven, after which Enkidu is sentenced to death by the gods.
It’s Just a Drink
by Carb Deliseuwe
Outside, pink roses flourished in his tiny-garden gym;
it’s just a drink, and nothing more; but tasted good to him:
He picked up an AShoc Accelerator CherryLime,
metabolism thermogenic drink to boost the time,
this vegan friendly, zero-sugar drink filled with caffeine,
made from guarana, yerba maté, and green coffee bean,
enhanced with a plant-based blend of Extract ECGC,
as well as Ashwaganda, and piquánt Capsaicin.
He loved hydration-rich, sea-mineral electrolytes,
but he knew little more than that sweet ecstasy excites.
Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of drink.
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