Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
White drops fly around.
A crepe myrtle’s blooms fall down.
It is not snowing.
Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
The reaction’s quick.
An army worm’s on his neck.
A swat and a squish.
Couplet
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
He stood up tall beside the wall. He saw an earwig crawl.
He got a tissue from the bath and made a quick light haul.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of traditional haiku. Even when one is not thinking of him, Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828) appears in one’s mind.
~~~
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
So large and so near,
the giant monster appears,
roaring overhead.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a NewMillennial haikuist. Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was a Romantic American poet and proset, author of the short story “The Sphinx.”
~~~
In Fixed-Wing Aviation Maintenance
by Air Weelbed Suc
He longed to be in fixed-wing aviation maintenance.
It was a job he liked; it would promote tenaciousness.
Each wrenching turn was vital. One had to pass each flight’s test.
He loved its seriousness. It would make him give his best.
To be a flight technician, whether missile and/or plane:
he loved to hang out in the hangar, working night or day.
It was a chance to get away from much-too-much mundane,
the boredom of the bedroom and such ordinary play.
Here was a situation, life-or-death, it mattered so:
you had to keep your pilots safe when they were on the go.
Air Weelbed Suc is a poet of flight.
~~~
Top Ten Cities by Approximate AI Venture Funding
by AI Welder Cubes
1. Beijing 66%
2. Silicon Valley 62%
3. Toronto 50%
4. Paris 43%
5. Shanghai 21%
6. Singapore 17%
7. Tokyo 16%
8. Amsterdam 15%
9. Seattle 14%
10. New York 14%
Data comes from Startup Genome, 2023 & 2024.
AI Welder Cubes is a poet of new technologies.
~~~
Data Mining
by Esca Webuilder
Each data task starts with the gathering of a new set.
Characterized and cleaned, analyses are the next step.
The data gathering itself is challenging, at least.
It’s time consuming, and there are turf sensitivities.
The software and the hardware problems cause some troubles too,
as does th’ acquiring of metadata rules and tools.
Then there are sets that are too large for individuals;
inspections turn out to be compilation manuals.
And yet, one longs to find new patterns in that smattering
that help inform predictions and decisions mattering.
By clustering and classifying, one can make new plans.
By doing all these things, what is there that one can’t enhance?
Esca Webuilder is a poet of the Internet.
~~~
Another Xi Zhongxun Memorial in Dancun Town
by Aw “Curbside” Lee
The Guanzhong Revolutionary Hall Memorial
in Fuping County, Shaanxi, with its tutorial
showcasing CCP’s “great revolutionary course”,
was opened on May 24th. What for? One more perforce.
Aw “Curbside” Lee is a poet of NewMillennial Chinese construction. Dancun Town, China, has a population of around 45,000. Xi Zhongxun (1913-2002) was a PostModernist Chinese Vice Premier and father of Xi Jinping. June 4th was the 36th anniversary of Tienanmin Square.
~~~
Newsreel:
Chinese researchers have been charged for bringing fungus in,
to the US that kills crops, like wheat, barley, maize and rice.
i.e., Fusarium graminearum.
~~~
How Come?
by Sri Wele Cebuda
He got into the lotus post, not doing it for love;
but for a momentary stay against the Cosmic Shove.
He was unmoved upon a sea amidst mist, waves and kelp;
and though his outcome was assured, he called out for God’s help.
Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of meditation.
~~~
Newsreel:
While talks continue, Russia keeps up killing in Ukraine,
and drones attacked a lot of Russian bomber-fleet warplanes.
~~~
On a German Going South
by Uwe Carl Diebes
During a sojourn in Italia,
in 1889, Nietzsche suffered
a mental breakdown that left him insane
the rest of his life. He died in Naumburg
in 1900. Suddenly, it all
fell apart; the aristocratic soul
of the romantic individual
fell into the dark night of a black hole.
Like Lessing’s phoenix, sorrow and sickness
forsook him in a moment of crisis,
and he became a lame pathetic mess
who lost his mind, his heart, his will. Life’s blithe,
intoxicating exuberance lasts
only as long as one is lithe, and fasts.
Uwe Carl Diebes is a poet of German letters. Mentioned in the above sonnet, Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) was a NeoRomantic German philosopher and Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729-1781) was an Enlightenment proset and critic. Naumburg is a town in Saxony-Anhalt of around 33,000. One possible benefit of intermittent fasting is the optimization of mitochondrial health, leading to improved energy production and overall function.
~~~
Newsreel:
Because Nawrocki won in Poland, PM Donald Tusk
has asked to hold a vote of confidence to test his trust.
~~~
Desk Sonnetesque
by Euclidrew Base
Paolo Ruffini’s family moved to
Reggio near Modena during his youth.
At eighteen he entered school at the {It’s true.}
University of Modena {The truth.},
where he received degrees in philosophy,
medicine and mathematics, them teaching
and practicing, rarely aloof, yet lofty,
his lowly actions followed by his preaching.
After Napoleon’s conquest, refusing
to take a civil oath, he was banned from school,
until Napoleon’s demise; then using
his time for medicine and math {Yes, truthful.}.
His proof on the quintic Cauchy approved;
that and his patient help have me most moved.
Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics. Paolo Ruffini (1765-1822) was an Italian mathematician and philosopher. Augustin-Louis Cauchy (1789-1857) was a French mathematician, engineer and physicist.
~~~
In Camo
by War di Belecuse
He moved about the house in camo, stealthy as a thief.
He walked across the varied floors. He moved so furtively.
He first went to the master bath, as quiet as a ghost,
upon the flat rectangles, angular; this was his post.
He next proceeded to the master bedroom carefully,
upon the carpet silently and nearly airily.
He crossed the study to the living room off down the hall,
upon the dark-brown wooden floors, a lean, pale wraith, so tall.
He stepped around the kitchen and the dining area
upon stone tiles, shaped in squares. There were few barriers.
From here he could observe the enemy as they approached.
He thought that he would have three eggs, but would not have
them poached.
War di Belecuse is a poet of war.
~~~
A Clerk and Scholar
by Wilude Scabere
He was a clerk and scholar, likewise a philosopher.
He sat upright, prepared to face his laptop monitor.
He was not clad in richest robes. His clothing could be bare.
So much at times he seemed to be a king out in the air.
Wilude Scabere is a poet of early English literature. Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1343-1400) was an Middle English poet.
~~~
The Olympian Secretary
by Des Wercebauli
He sat erect up at his desk. He was prepared to work.
His feet were placed upon the plain. He flew up like a bird.
He climbed into the clouds. He felt so high that he could fly
beyond the inner sanctum of eternity passed by.
O, yes, he loved the feeling, reeling all around him there.
He wondered just how far he could go up into that air.
But then he came back down again, up at his monitor,
as frisky as a janitor or maze-bound minotaur,
back at his typing and recording data-streaming forms,
and filling out his manifold reports of varied morphs.
At That Mechanic’s Desk
by Des Wercebauli
He still remembers working hard at that mechanic’s desk.
despite all of the paperwork, and pressing, prescient sked.
O, there were times, he wished that he could rest and take a break;
but duty called incessantly. O, Lord, for goodness sake!
It seemed there always was another customer to serve,
some heated and demanding client who got on his nerve.
But there were times when one could help some uptight, forlorn soul
and save that wretch from going down into a rabbit hole.
And at the end of shift, one could feel whole and satisfied
that one had helped a fellow traveler back on his ride.
One could put up one’s feet and lean back in one’s leather chair,
and rest upon one’s laurels for a little longer there.
Des Wercebauli is a poet of work.
~~~
The Tragedian as the Colour Black
by Walice du Beers
He was not a tragedian known as the letter B,
although he was much into bettering so many things,
including battering down castle doors and mighty forts;
though as for that, among his tasks, he liked a tidy porch.
Once he was in his daily suit, and his black socks and shoes,
he was prepared to sweep the concrete leading to his news.
He swept up blossoms, bark dust, dead bugs, and some gecko dung.
In the old days, the tumbleweeds accumulated some.
There ever was much to sweep up, all that came to his door;
and though he never hung his head, he never wished for more.
Walice du Beers is a poet of strangeness. Robert Frost (1879-1962) was an American Modernist poet.
~~~
The Baseball Player
by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”
The baseball player got prepared for the big game today.
The Sun was shining. He was pining for a lucky game.
He saw the pines. He saw the coiffured fields, neat and marked.
He drove his white truck to the side road. That was where he parked.
He was dressed in his uniform, a basic black and tan.
He grabbed his cap and put it on, glad to be back again.
He grabbed his bat. It was his favourite. O, yes, his best.
He left his seat and locked the door, prepared to meet the test.
He walked on out to where the fans were at. He stood up tall.
It was time to be practicing, to toss about a ball.
He found a partner with a mitt, and they began to catch.
This would be fun for anyone, o, ev’n a nasty wretch.
Still Duty Whispers
by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”
“So nigh is grandeur to our dust, so near is God to man,
when Duty whispers low, “Thou must,” the youth replies I can.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
It was time for his exercises. Would they never stop?
He’d have to do them for his life, until he had to drop.
He did his stretches—he felt wretched—twisting trunk and sides.
He wished he didn’t have to; he’d prefer to go on rides.
He did his lunges and his crunches. He did not like lifts.
Instead of forceful actions, he would rather go on drifts.
He did his squats. He did a lot. There never was enough.
He touched his toes. He grabbed his ankles. Man, this plan was rough.
His heart was pounding, breaths resounding. Breaths came after breaths.
O, he was panting, panting, panting. He would love to rest.
Was there a part of him that was not breaking, quaking, sore?
Still duty whispers to the old man; he replies with more.
Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of sport and exercise. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) was a Romantic American poet.
~~~
The Brand New Alien
by I. E. Sbace Weruld
He stood up at the threshold of another vantage point,
an unanointed individual to no thing joined;
but standing there out in the open air beside a door
to learning more than he had ever earned or learned before.
Where he was going was, however, not assured at all;
and though good could be there, it wasn’t in-ev-i-ta-ble.
Clad in his suit, but not hirsute, he stepped forth guardedly,
into new realms of overwhelming views and novelty.
He felt like as an alien new to the planet Earth,
a brand new being coming from another turning turf,
appearing like an angel or a man-moth wrapped in cloth,
as pale as a polar bear, as white as any goth.
Mr. I. E. Sbace Weruld is a poet of the Cosmos.
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