Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
Fresh perfumed blossoms
from a white crepe myrtle’s
fly through the spring air.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of traditional haiku.
~~~
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
They soar overhead,
jet after jet after jet,
flying people in.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The bug zapper hits
winged pesky flies wringing hands,
upon bended legs.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a NewMillennial haikuist. Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828) was a Japanese haiku master.
~~~
Who Turns in What Way?
by Li “Web Crease” Du
There was a soldier with a bow—a brave, white-headed man?
Who did possess a gold sword at the East Gate, with a plan?
Who was the warrior, who had entered in through the back door?
Dark murky clouds were overhead. Was it about to pour?
What killing had there been without a knife—no casualties?
Of the ten-thousand, who will not escape his enemies?
Li “Web Crease” Du is a poet of Tang (618-907) poetry.
~~~
Newsreel:
There was but one survivor on Air India’s plane crash.
What was the cause that caused so many deaths in that hard smash?
The fuel? engine thrust? or settings for the flaps and slats?
For families involved there were no consolating stats.
Ahmedabad, India, is a city of around 1,000,000. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, the neologism “consolating” is contextually understandable.
~~~
The Flies
by “Lice Brews” Ueda
The flies gather at the window in summer.
In winter there is hardly a single one.
They go into a deep hibernal slumber,
until there is a rise in the heat of the Sun.
“Lice Brews” Ueda is a poet of bugs. “Lord of the Flies” by British PostModernist William Golding (1911-1993) demonstrates the tension between civilization and chaos, as its characters of young boys descend into savagery.
~~~
Ferdowsi Wrote
by Delir Ecwabeus
Ferdowsi wrote the Shahnameh, a mighty-epic song,
of Ancient Persian tales in 50,000 couplets long.
Combined with his embellishments, based on some prose accounts,
he wrote his poem to preserve preIslam myths and mounts.
He wrote and wrote and wrote for years; the decades passed him by;
and though his effort gained him little, Time has been more kind.
Delir Ecwabeus is a poet of Persia. Ferdowsi (c. 935 – c. 1020) was a highly regarded Persian epic poet.
~~~
Newsreel:
The Fordom Fuel Enrichment Plant, some twenty miles from Qom—
has it been used for HEU, a mountain for its dome?
HEU is highly enriched uranium. Qom, Iran, is a city of around 1,200,000.
~~~
An Ancient Song
by Israel W. Ebecud
O, great and marvelous are all Thy deeds,
Lord God Almighty. Righteous are Thy ways.
And true, oh, King of all Eternity.
Who shall not fear and glorify Thy name?
Israel W. Ebecud is a poet of Judah. Moses (c. 1392 BC – c. 1272 BC) was a Hebrew prophet.
~~~
Newsreel:
On Friday, Operation Rising Lion had begun,
Israeli strikes occurred, attacks around Tehran, Iran.
In turn, Iran launched many drones; deaths counted on each side;
Iranians flee Tehran now, as bombs and bombsites rise.
~~~
The Skies Over Magnitogorsk
by Rus Ciel Badeew
Into the skies over Magnitogorsk,
they rise one after another—smoke stacks—
pumping out, quicker than cooks can make borscht,
billows of grimy grays and bleary blacks.
It’s like Pittsburg before depression hit,
hardly what one would call enviable,
somewhat like a pig spinning on a spit—
the hot coals burning the life out of it,
the final result inevitable.
Rus Ciel Badeew is a poet of Russia. Magnitogorsk, Russia, has a population of around 400,000.
~~~
The Dark Abode of the Great Ogre
by Seer Ablicadew
It was another Saturday, and he was off of work.
He got into his compact SUV, and hit the curb.
It was time for his weekly shopping trek for groceries.
He drove with strength and confidence down mighty Hercules.
He checked each way, as he turned right, down to the City stores,
and drove through many traffic lights to do his buying chores.
“I’m coming through,” he said, as each light turned to green at last.
There were so many things he saw, that on his trip he passed.
He saw the youth preparing for their games so anxiously;
he saw cows in the grassy fields, cud-chewing patiently.
And then he reached the dark abode where the great Ogre was,
where grackles croaked about his lair out loud and ominous.
Seer Ablicadew is a poet and prophet.
~~~
The GBU-43B
by Ed “Bear” C. U. Lewis
The MOAB weighs to twenty-two pounds; it’s a heavy mom,
the mother of all bombs, the massive ordnance air-blast bomb.
The GBU-43B has been designed to show
a hefty, bunker-busting power in its giant blow.
Ed “Bear” C. U. Lewis is a poet of military equipment.
~~~
Hebe
by Esiud L. Werecub
Cupbearer for the gods,
Zeus daughter, goddess of youth,
married with Hercules, the hero-god, when he
stormy, husky, brawling,
achieved heavens big shoulders.
Esiud L. Werecub is a poet of Ancient Greece. Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) was an American Modernist poet and proset.
~~~
At the Funeral
by Waldeci Erebus
It’s horrible. It’s horrible. It’s horrible.
A rose arose near Mister Kurtz. There is no hope.
He keeps his clothing tidy. It’s deplorable.
That’s all I can recall. He had the will to cope.
The funeral was grand, expensive, neat and nice.
The casket was surrounded by a slender rope.
The questions all revolved around what was the price.
Somehow one makes it work despite the messiness.
The lovely moments in the garden do suffice.
when one’s expecting little more than nothingness.
Somebody thinks the clothing’s cut’s adorable.
The dirt flies past my face, the air’s compressing less.
Waldeci Erebus is a poet of the dead. Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) was a Polish-British Modernist proset.
~~~
The Venetian Prism
by Alberdi Ucwese
When the 1800s arrived
Venice wanted to see itself;
and that view is what has survived—
a proud panorama of pelf.
Giovanni Canaletto
captured its grand solidity,
cutting, as with a stiletto,
it from its own fluidity.
Francesco Guardi, however,
recorded its scintillating,
a moment’s movement forever
still, subtly titillating.
Then the 1800s appeared
along with Romanticism,
and the newly painted ships veered
from the bright Venetian prism.
Alberdi Ucwese is a poet of Italian painting. Giovanni Canaletto (1697-1768) was an Italian NeoClassical painter of vedute, city scapes. Francesco Guardi (1712-1793) was an Italian painter, one of the last of the classic Venetian school.
~~~
The Driving Ace
by Bruc “Diesel” Awe
He loved the feel of the wheel in his driving hands.
He loved how it—that massive car—obeyed his strict commands.
It would go where he wanted it to… He was in control;
but he had to be careful on his turns he wouldn’t roll.
Bruc “Diesel” Awe is a poet of driving. One of his favourite card games from youth was Mille Bornes, produced and illustrated by French PostModernists Edmond Dujardin (1905-1964) and
Joseph Le Callennec (1905-1988).
~~~
Highest Inflation so far, 2025, according to Bloomberg
San Diego 3.8%
New York City 3.4%
1. West Coast States 2.8%
2. New Jersey to New England 2.8%
3. Midwest to Alabama 2.5%
4. Atlantic States to Florida 2.2%
5. Rocky Mountain States 1.9%
6. Oil South, OK,AR,TX,&LA 1.4%
~~~
A Brief
by Cal Wes Ubideer
Born in July in 1888 in Illinois;
Chicago was his birthplace, England his home when a boy.
In 1912 he was in California with no dad.
but went to Canada to fight when the whole World went mad.
In 1919 he returned to the United States,
and worked in th’ oil industry until he was displaced.
At 45, he started writing for crime fiction pulps,
and pumped out manuscripts of noir between cocktail gulps.
He showed LA was not angelic, not in any way,
and filled his metaphoric fiction with a crude display.
The character of Philip Marlowe was his private-eye,
that solved the mysteries he made until his last good-bye.
Cal Wes Ubideer is a poet of California. Raymond Chandler (1888-1959) was an American Modernist proset.
~~~
Running Running
by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”
“…how much of our time is spent running
running circles around ourselves
creating far too many lists written on scraps of paper.”
—Janet Cormier
He felt like he was always running, even when he paused
to put his paws upon the counter to endure his flaws.
O, he was panting even when he was just standing still,
but he was not a dog with hanging tongue at window sill.
And though his feet securely stood upon the tiled floor,
he was akimbo and aquiver at the open door.
As things were ever changing, ever rearranging some,
though he was going nowhere, he was moving just the same.
He threw his arms up to the sky; he lifted up his head.
He knew he would keep rolling on, until he was quite dead.
Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of running. Janet Cormier is a contemporary proset and poet.
~~~
There’s Always Something
by Erisbawdle Cue
There’s always something else; so even when
you are content with things the way they are,
something or someone will appear, and then
remind you that you’ve only come so far.
If it weren’t so frustrating, it would be
ridiculous; but there it is, and one
has got to come to grips with it—truly.
Abandon hope, accept pain, yet have fun.
Erisbawdle Cue is a poet of philosophy.
~~~
Upon One Early Morning
by Siclawb Eureed
Life passes by so quickly, so it seems.
One moment one is rising to the dawn,
and letting fall behind one’s sleep and dreams;
the next, new light is coming to and on.
You reach to grasp the present when it comes,
but as you do, it fades into an end
in morning’s aura. Pausing to take plums,
to break night’s fast, you turn to reascend.
And so, no matter how slow you may go,
each instant travels on in its own way.
You may stand firm, but time’s winds have to blow
you to another place, another day.
Therefore, it’s best t’ appreciate each trice;
for nothing known will stay. Let that suffice.
Siclawb Eureed is a poet of another place, another day.
~~~
So Wright
by Bruce Dale Wise
He was a boxing kangaroo. My God, he fought like hell.
This author witnessed him; although he didn’t know him well.
His po-ems were an inspiration, songs that passed the time;
for he lived on the edge of life. His music was sublime.
His songs went on beyond Bukowski on a set of skis.
His writing was a template of great ease and expertise.
Though he did not remember certain elements, one loved
that singer’s words more than one ever could a morning dove.
But one thing’s certain in this cosmic swirl of space and light,
it felt so right to read what he did write down—Jason Wright.
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