by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

The waves are crashing.
He is on a sea voyage.
The baby is asleep.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a haiku poet.


          by “Wired Clues” Abe

Below the Cessna,
but above the tops of roofs,
two chimney swifts sped.


          by “Wired Clues” Abe

In the afternoon,
they penetrate th’ airy ears—
cicadas’ voices.

“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. The above haiku draws from Edo writer Matsuo Basho (1644-1694).


Precariously Balanced
          by I. E. Sbace Weruld

A feather and a bowling ball fall equally as fast
inside the NASA vacuum chamber near Sandusky—jast!
On Mars, a rock the size of a round bowling ball was seen
precariously balanced on a hefty boulder’s lean.
It was found in Jezero Crater in Hogwallow Flats;
by NASA’s roving camera its pic was photographed.
Some speculated that the rock had been connected to
the boulder under it now weathered from the winds that blew,
rocks in the area believed to be three billion years,
perhaps enough time for erosive nature’s engineers.

Mr. I. E. Sbace Weruld is a poet of outer space. Sandusky, Ohio, is a city of about 25,000. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, the neologism “jast” was an emphatic interrogative of the 1990s meaning “intense joy.”


The Chinese now are building a new military place,
located in Cambodia, beside Ream Naval Base.


A World Filled with Hate and Ferocity
              by War di Belecuse

They don’t play fair, these guys; they just take what they can
without caring what might happen to their victim.
They are callous, cruel, and vicious to a man,
They will follow no law, but only the dictum:
whatever I want matters; to hell with the rest.
What a horrid society they envision!
kind of like Darwin’s survival of the fittest,
a world in which kindness and generosity
are crushed under whoever is the mightiest.
It is a world filled with hate and ferocity,
chaotic, out of control, yet loved by Satan,
moving at some nuclear-hot velocity.

War di Belecuse is a poet of conflict. In the above bilding, Charles Darwin (1809-1882) was a British Victorian scientist who promoted the idea of evolutionary biology, and Satan the “Accuser” is a figure found in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, etc.


The Chinese Communists banned journos from them covering
the celebration Hong Kong 25; press freedoms dinged.


Extremists in the Maldives have attacked its Yoga Day.
O, conflict rages round the Earth, including in Malé.

Malé is the capital and largest city in the Maldives with a population of around 250,000.


The Yogi
          by Sri Wele Cebuda

The yogi doing yoga had some yogurt in the morn.
He got upon the mat and gat into the proper form.
He lifted up his spine beside tall, scrubby, rugged pines,
and meditated on Colombo’s very long gas lines.

Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of yoga. Colombo is the capital and largest city of Sri Lanka, with a population of around 750,000 in the city itself, where citizens are struggling to buy food, fuel, and other items. Inflation in food is over 50%.


The Kremlin has defaulted on its unpaid foreign debt,
like as in 1918 when so did the Soviets.


The Captives
          by Radice Lebewsu
          “Lupus est homo homini…”
              —Plautus, “Asinaria”

They threw them in a prison—the Ukrainians they got—
down in a dark bare room, a brick and mortar cellar grot.
One man was chained up to some pipes, another tied with rope.
The captives did not look as though they had a lot of hope.
The one chained to a pipe, his head was down, disconsolate;
the other criled in agony, he felt unfortunate.
The prison guard was cruel, hard. He watched his sore charge scream.
He loved the power over others, powerful, but meek.
Both prisoners so longed to get away from where they were;
but they were stuck in Russian muck, they had to pay pay-dirt.

Radice Lebewsu is a poet of Ukraine. Titus Maccius Plautus (254 BC – 184 BC) was a noted Latin playwright of the late Iron Age. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “criled” is a neologism that derives its meaning in a blend of “cried” and “riled”. In addition to the more than six-million refugees and mass murders, Russia has been emprisoning thousands of Ukrainians.


G-7 leaders mocked bare-chested Putin’s photographs;
there in Bavaria they jested, with some jokes and laughs;
while Putin’s forces f-i-r-e-d rockets at a shopping mall;
he glad to see the killing in Kremenchuk overall.

Kremenchek is a city in Ukraine of around 200,000 people before the Russian attack on Ukraine in February, 2022.


The Killnet hackers hit the country Lithuania,
because of EU sanctions punishing Kaliningrad.

Kaliningrad Oblast on the Baltic Sea has a population of about 1,000,000.


After Rochlitz
          by Ewald E. Eisbruc

In 1789 Mozart visited
Leipzig. When the cantor of the Thomasschule
played for his guest “Singet dem Herrn,” a Bach motet,
Mozart started up and cried out rather rudely,
“What is that?” his whole soul seemingly in his ears!
“Oh, that is something from which we can learn truly!”
Though the school owned no complete scores, when Mozart hears
the school has a whole set of such works, he gets mem-
bers to bring separate parts. Silent observers
stood amazed to see Mozart place all around him,
on knees, in hands, on chairs, everything he could get,
reading through every last shred with gusto and vim.


The Third Movement of Mahler’s First Symphony
          by Ewald E. Eisbruc

The Third Movement of Mahler’s First Symphony,
contains a lugubrious Frère Jacques!
a hunter’s funeral in a minor-key!
oboes and trumpets offering their mocking
tones, solemn and measured, moving fro with the
animals in Moritz von Schwind’s engraving,
stags, foxes, hares, et cetera, all together,
burying that which to them’s not worth saving,
sounding, oh, so, yes, central European,
at a very rich moment in history,
before breaking into a Manichean
nightmare, while a residue of mystery
still remained intact before the two World Wars
blew the place up with such a violent force.

Ewald E. Eisbruc is a critic of German music. Johann Friedrich Rochlitz (1769-1842) was a German writer and music critic, known for his autobiographical work “Days of Danger” on his participation in the Battle of Leibzig. Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) was a German Baroque composer, who inspired Austrian Classical composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791). Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) was an Austro-Bohemian Romantic composer. Moritz von Schwind (1804-1871) was an Austrian painter. “Frère Jacques” is an influential round used internationally.


Six-million Ven’zuelans have fled their oil-rich land.
The Communists have ruined their economy with plans.


Upon Quintana Road
          by Escawlde Uribe
          “A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
          And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
          And the dry stone no sound of water…”
              —T. S. Eliot, “The Wasteland”

Outside the outskirts of the city San Antonio,
more than four dozen people were abandoned by the road.
These immigrants were smuggled into these United States,
inside a semi-trailer truck, packed in, like so much freight.

They were left on Quintana Road in triple-digit heat.
Who was the driver who delivered them like so much meat?
Where had they been picked up? Who were these folks? Where were they from?
Did they envision this could come to pass when they would come?

Did they go through a border checkpoint? How was this trip made?
O, sweltering without some water in that deadly shade.
Officials said the stacks of bodies were hot to the touch.
There was no A/C unit on that rig. What can one clutch?

Escawlde Uribe (aka Cesal Dwe Uribe) is a poet of the porous border over which 2,000,000 immigrants have crossed, since Biden became the present Resident in the White House. The Department of Homeland Security is run by Alejandro Mayorkas. San Antonio, TX, has a population of around 1,400,000.


At the Landing
          Bruc “Diesel” Awe

I saw him standing at the landing of a station, mum.
He was like as a soldier waiting for a train to come.
He seemed to have the character of a rhinocerous,
or also possibly a treacherous triceratops.
Was it a suitcase he was holding in his left hand’s grip,
that he pulled to an altitude, up to his shifting hip.
I saw him looking to the right. He longed to see the train,
to see its cars come down the track, an automated snake.
I kept on looking at him looking at that station’s plat,
while wondering what kind of animal was I who sat.

Bruce “Diesel” Awe is a poet of transportation.


          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”

He put on blue athletic shoes in preparation for
his run at dawn’s bright yawn and workout in the early morn.
O, he was not forlorn. He was pumped up, and ready, set,
to go, go, go, as he had had a cup of coffee, yes.
He did his stretches, bends, and lunges, squats and shaking parts.
O, he was so excited that he couldn’t wait to start.
And then he went forth, with vim and vigour, energy galore.
His engine running, gunning, gunning, how he wanted more.
O, how much time and how far could he go; he didn’t know;
but kept on going at a quick clip…Why would he go slow?
except to gaze upon the scenery, as his feet went.
O, see the beauty of the passing images he met.


Morning Exercise Routine
          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”

The Sun was coming, chasing Jupiter and Mars away.
The Moon was yield-ing to the light of thé approaching day.
It was time for his early morning exercise routine,
and he would do his training without use of a machine.
He wore light clothes from neck to feet, so movement would be free.
The main thing was promoting energized activity.
He did his warmup stretches from his legs up to his crown,
and had a cup of coffee, with white creamer in its brown.
He did his calisthenics, his exertions and his drills.
At times he panted, shaking up his body and his will.
He did his best to meet the tests he set before himself;
And he was done, when he had done it well, ah, so he felt.

Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of exercise.


A Rice Cake
          by Carb Deliseuwe

He was so tired he was resting on the kingsize bed.
He wanted just to have a rice cake, lifting up his head.
He longed to have a puffed up disk, delicious and so sweet.
Then he would be content to munch, to crunch on one, and eat.

Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of food. A variety of rice cakes exist around the World, particularly in Asia.