“All Over the World”
by R. Lee Ubicwedas
As planet Earth goes spinning through the universe
around the Sun and Milky Way, we, all of us
are waking, sleeping, maybe watching shining stars,
are longing for more freedom, or are content thus,
are working for each other, ourselves, or a git,
are playing music, movies, or condemning such,
are breathing in the near air, or exhaling it,
are eating plants and animals, well-cooked or raw,
are feeling wonderful, so good, okay, or……….shit,
are walking, talking, dancing, glancing, or romancing, ah!
in Europe, Africa, and the Americas,
Australia, Asia…oh, yes, everywhere we are.
R. Lee Ubicwedas is a poet of Ubiquity. He remembers one the first cassettes he bought when he got back to the USA from Germany—by Electric Light Orchestra.
~~~
Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
Fallen on its back,
the cicada does not cry.
Alack, it can’t sigh.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a haiku writer of life’s small vignettes. Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828) was a haiku poet who frequently used small animals in his writing.
~~~
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The car alarm beeps
went for thirty-nine long beats,
and then they turned off.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Flags flapping, fading,
one guy’s at the castle top,
no palace aiding.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a NewMillennial haikuist.
~~~
Newsreel:
Drones, rockets, warships and launch sites in Asia rising fast,
from India to Taiwan and Japan, they are amassed.
More than a trillion-dollar budget’s rushing for defense,
from electronics to propellants, the move is immense.
~~~
On Slavonic Dance Number 1
by Waldi Berceuse
Antonin Dvořák’s Slavonic Dance Number 1 ‘s
fantastic, a wild Bohemian furiant,
a rapid, fiery movement with shifting accents
that’s not for the subdued or overly prudent.
Performed at presto, it starts bursting at the seams
immediately and goes a good minute
through flourishes and varied melodies
before it quiets down, halts abruptly,
and then begins to slowly build again
meandering so purposefully
throughout the whole scenario, and then,
while playing through its keys, returns ever
so neatly, constantly, to C major.
Waldi Berceuse is a poet of slavic musical composition. Antonin Dvořák (1841-1904) was a Romantic Czech composer.
~~~
Debussy’s Music
by U. Carew Delibes
Debussy’s music captures summer-sweet leisure. One lies down into it, like a body into
a hammock on a sunny afternoon, pleasure attending one’s easy swing beneath the sky’s blue.
Debussy’s music flows like a bright day’s beauty does, with breezy indolence in a brilliant hue, meanders in a trance without rue or duty, and lounges lovingly in purest peacefulness.
Debussy’s music moves dreamily, not mutely, through realms of relaxation, rest and happiness, luxuriating in adagio’s slow measure with all the conviction of half-heartedness.
U. Carew Delibes is a poet of French music. In the above prosem, the composer Claude Debussy (1862-1918) was a French Impressionist composer.
~~~
The Chronicler of Aragon
by Raúl de Cwesibe
The Chronicler of the Kingdom of Aragon,
Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola,
shows from his time, an admirable paragon
of virtue, along with brother Bartolomè,
of regal countenance and true integrity,
born in Barbastro, north of the River Tagus,
a fine reformer of Castilian purity,
described so by no(ta)ble Lope de Vega.
But why should one even care about such
a one, who neither wrote in this language,
nor lived in this time now inhabited?
Why should one even notice? In as much,
as one must live in a similar age,
one might wish someone now shared that standard.
Raúl de Cwesibe is a poet of Spain en El Siglo de Oro. Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola (1559-1613) was a Spanish poet and dramatist, Bartolomè (1562-1631), his brother, was a poet and historian as well.
~~~
America
by Usa W. Celebride
Just as, in Spain’s El Siglo de Oro,
America, too, has its qualities
that time, must of necessity corrode,
its noble thoughts and its idolatries.
Which of all those are those we each admire
and would not like to see disparaged so,
when time unleashes brand new raging fires
that will excoriate our purest gold?
Who knows? We only know it won’t be us
alive right now; and yet it must be those
who must derive from us, this copious
and fertile source, that is, one of our flows.
How strange it is to think the future will
inevitably use what we distill.
Usa W. Celebride is a poet of America.
~~~
Blessing and Curse
by Bilee Wad Curse
These jottings, these thoughts and ideas placed
in lines—no one gives a damn about them.
Yet, reality has got to be faced,
and we still have to try and fathom
this ununderstandable universe.
Life is a blessing; and life is a curse.
Bilee Wad Curse is a poet of oaths. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “ununderstandable” is a neologism of the late 20th century.
~~~
The Turkey Vulture on the Highway
by Ueee Birdclaws
A week ago, a turkey vulture sat right in
the middle of the highway, scavenging upon
some dead squished animal carcass. It had chagrin
at passing cars, but did not feel the need to be gone.
Instead, the drivers moved out of its way. They did
not want to hit so big a bird. Although no fawn
or deer, the drivers naturally evaded
such a collision/confrontation; for they had
things they would rather do than dares so debated.
They were enroute. They didn’t want to be delayed.
In such a situation, turkey vultures win,
for though they’re smaller, we don’t want to be waylaid.
Ueee (pronounced ooh-ee) Birdclaws is a poet of devouring birds.
~~~
Newsreel:
Retailer Target has seen a 2,000% lift,
in AI-driven traffic during 2026.
~~~
Omega-Threes upon a Server’s Plate
by Carb Deliseuwe
He saw the salmon leaping through the rapid river’s waves,
and pictured fishers striving to get it, like bears or braves.
The fish was wild. It didn’t want to meet a connoisseur,
who wanted its omega-threes upon a server’s plate.
He saw the fish’s fresh flesh lying on the table cloth
of bright pale-pink flamingos going past the isles of thought.
He forked the moist dish carefully, lest he might spill its mound,
and took another sip of water swished around his mouth.
He saw the empty platter. He was semi-satisfied,
but he would need more food tomorrow past the riverside.
Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of low-carb food.
~~~
The Foxgloves Are
by Brac Lei Uweeds
It’s August, and the foxgloves are in bloom.
Their flowers, tall, red violet and white,
bedeck the roadsides and are quite a sight
for travelers with lots of time and room,
or idlers resting far from work or doom.
Amidst the green of Washington, their bright,
bold, colored stalks stand lovely and upright.
They bring delight, whether one pause or zoom
past. Nature’s garden is not orderly,
and random flowers, like the foxgloves, grow
where they can find a place, not bordering
on the absurd. But what a lovely show.
I know there is no person gardening,
who does so much, as nature on its own.
Brac Lei Uweeds is a poet of wildflowers.
~~~
A Fickled Fool
by Erisbawdle Cue
As a rule,
fame is a fickled fool,
a grisly ghoul
that feeds on the gruel
of the multitudes.
Erisbawdle Cue is a poet of philosophic epigraphs.
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