MAJOR OAK

by Matthew Murrey

‘Most famous tree in the world’: Sherwood Forest’s 1,000-year-old Major oak dies —The Guardian, June 18, 2026. Photo by Mark Chelu via Shutterstock.

I hold a thousand years of rings—

laws turned crimes, outlaws

heroes: Robin Hood to Mangione.

I have remained here

as posts were sunk, fences strung,

and commons turned to cost.

I have known the sadness of air

heavy with smoke and all the burnings:

coal, humans, forests, oil and gas.

I know there are limits,

only so much time,

and all of us must perish.

I am stark. You can see

every gnarl, burr, split, and break

in the bark, scar in the wood.

I have not put forth one leaf

in this heat of twenty twenty-six.

You and I stand bare beneath the sky.

Matthew Murrey is the author of Little Joy (Cornerstone Press, 2026) and Bulletproof (Jacar Press, 2019). He can be found on Bluesky and Instagram under the handle @mytwords.  

WORLD CUP

by Amy Jean Bailey

The stadium is filling with red

and white striped shirts, a swimming

zigzag. What was left of the potential

rain has melted now into pure light. 

Voices in unison singing 

Seven Nation Army 

by The White Stripes could be heard 

by a barista all the way in Lower

Queen Anne and I want so much

to love it here—the depth 

of our coffee, the sparkle in our sea. 

I want to point to the eagle’s nest 

by the walking path, maybe even have you 

over, where I’ll slide open the closet door

to display my colorful collection

of rainboots of varying heights,

before I gesture towards the Locks 

and explain how salmon 

swim upstream and might still make it—

as if they didn’t need a ladder,

as if we don’t.

Amy Jean Bailey is a poet and educator who has a PhD in anthropology from UCLA. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in The Timberline Review, Clockhouse, in the anthology The Sonoran Desert: A Literary Field Guide (University of Arizona Press), and elsewhere. Born and raised in Chicago, and then living all over the U.S., she now resides with her dog in Seattle, Washington.

THE DAY AFTER KC’S FIRST WORLD CUP GAME

by Al Ortolani

For a while at the farmer’s market

it was a happier America. People

were pleasant, shopping in the shade

under the awning. Multiple languages,

all shades of skin, Christians

and Jews and Muslims. Hindus

and Buddhists and Secular Humanists. 

I bought Hungarian paprika, local garlic,

Mennonite bread, a bouquet of flowers

for my wife from a woman 

who sold bok choi and radishes. 

For lunch there were vine ripened 

Arkansas tomatoes, chili peppers, 

and Mexican Coca Cola. I’m certain 

someone who had never 

watched soccer in their life 

went on and on about Messi’s Hat Trick.

Al Ortolani is a retired public school teacher in the Kansas City area. His poems have appeared widely. He learned the ins and outs of soccer by following his children and grandchildren through the magic of the sport, albeit often confused by the rules.

UPON THE BEAUTY OF COLOR

by Anne Herrick

Ducks Likely OK As Trump Admin Dumps Hydrogen Peroxide Into Green Reflecting Pool —HuffPost, June 19, 2026

Days after his administration claimed the pool was actually “crystal clear,” despite an unmistakably green hue, the US president acknowledged issues—and, without evidence, blamed foul play. —The Guardian, June 20, 2026

Who doesn’t agonize over color

for a kitchen, bathroom, house siding,

a fence, the front door? Or

even the color for a pool, to make

it bright, enticing, exciting.

So you try strolling down past doors

and walls in Ireland, Italy, Mexico,  

or find yellows in Van Gogh’s flowers

his blues in Starry Night, perhaps examine

the deep and bright reds of Kahlo,

or even view the wide selection

of Monet’s greens. Some study flags,

like the yellow and blue of Ukraine,

the red, white, and blue of the UK,

or, for that matter, of proudly independent

America—the blue perfect to highlight

a very long pool, a tourist attraction

feting a famous president,

and perfect, too, to invite the beauty

of algae, that emerald green 

celebrating warmth, humidity, and sun.

Yes—such is the power of summer energy,

it gifts green to water, and even peels

blue paint, encouraging new tourists, 

ducks, to fly in for a visit hoping it is a snack

of duckweed, while men and women 

in waders, scoop and scoop, day after day,

until the pool eventually becomes dry.

Until, in fact it will lie still in peace

in its comfortable century-old familiar

worn grey coat.

 

 

Anne Herrick has published a few poems and prose in the US and UK.

MISDEAL

by W. Barrett Munn

Cartoon by Clay Jones

Once there was a leader who wasn’t ready

for the effects his warring caused.

He tried to create an army out of blather,

and ordered his followers to blather, too.

He’d drawn a line in the sand

and crossed it off his to-Bi list,

having placed his faith in himself

to prevent missteps—

The people got pissed.

Terrified of losing control, the man in charge

sold his soul to the same devil

he’d been embellishing as a threat.

The leader swore

on a gold bar that sat on top a Bible

that his soul had always been hidden

inside a sack full of cash. A deal was struck—

The enemy got to win the war,

got all the cash, and all the rockets

as long as they promised—which they did—

while keeping their fingers crossed.

Winston Munn writes as W. Barrett Munn because initially he thought that sounded cooler and he had been named after Elizabeth Barrett, later Browning, his mother's favorite poet. He's been fortunate to have been selected before for The New Verse News along with a number of other publications. He lives in Oklahoma and rarely comes up for air as in Oklahoma it's always open season on progressives.

AFRICAN, AGAIN

by Jim Kelly

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

President Donald Trump is easing his administration's cap on the number of refugees who can enter the United States, according to a forthcoming White House memo.  Set to be published officially on Wednesday, the directive says the additional 10,000 slots—raising the annual limit from 7,500 to 17,500—are reserved for white South Africans. —PBS, May 26, 2026

Once,
America looked to Africa
and carried away Black bodies
in chains.
Now,
America looks to Africa again—
not with shackles,
but with selective invitations
for White Afrikaners.
History doesn't repeat itself,
yet sometimes
it rhymes
in uncomfortable ways.

Jim Kelly is a Los Angeles-based poet originally from Beaufort, South Carolina. His work explores race, memory, democracy, and the lived experience of ordinary people navigating extraordinary times. Drawing on a lifetime of observation, his poems examine the intersection of history, identity, and public life.

ELEVEN HOMICIDES, GILGO BEACH, SUFFOLK COUNTY, NY

by LindaAnn LoSchiavo

 

Author's Note: Suffolk County, New York law enforcement sabotaged and delayed investigating the deaths of eleven corpses found along Gilgo Beach for years until their corrupt Police Chief James Burker was arrested in connection with a different case and imprisoned along with Thomas Spota, District Attorney, and Christopher McPartland, Assistant District Attorney. All three were convicted of witness tampering, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy charges. Only then did the Gilgo Beach murder investigation proceed. On Wednesday, June 17th, 2026 the killer was sentenced.

 

 

 

 

New Yorker and award-winner LindaAnn LoSchiavo is a member of British Fantasy Society,  HWA, SFPA, and The Dramatists Guild. Find out more about her on Substack @GreenwichVillagePoet .

AMERICA 253

by Scott McConnaha

 

 

I turned eight the summer of 1976

and everything seemed to swell

with bicentennial pride.

Even the cement trucks were painted

red, white, and blue and we waved

our flags at the fire engines

and high school band as they

paraded down a crowded Mission Avenue

buzzing with proud cheers and

Tootsie Rolls thrown at our feet.

It belonged to everyone, that time.

 

Today, there are some storefront windows

painted with America 250 and the light poles

down Main Street have banners with that logo,

but it's different these 50 years later.

Perhaps I've become too gun-shy, too cynical,

too resentful that these patriotic displays

have been hoarded and redefined

and now stand for all the wrong ideas

about what this country is and ought to be.

 

I looked online but haven't yet found anyone

selling America 253 shirts. I think it's a good idea

because most of us want to celebrate a different,

truer version of what this country is

and ought to be. But we know it’s going to take

a few more years to build a ballroom 

that will accommodate all of us.

Scott McConnaha is a veteran, former teacher, editor, and healthcare administrator. He and his wife live in Plymouth, Wis. He is the author of a poetry chapbook titled Without a Prayer, and his work has appeared in Mobius, America, Door is a Jar, New Verse News, Dissident Voice, and Moss Piglet, among other publications.

A NEW BEGINNING

by Ron Shapiro

Step back from lies, greed

and corruption if only for

an afternoon in Chicago

for the opening of Obama’s

center on the south side.

Feast your eyes 

on an alternate

amerikan reality

where character,

kindness, community,

and truth matter. 

 

Listen to diverse voices

speak of the amerikan promise:

life, liberty, pursuit of happiness.

 

Hear words and songs

that elevate our country.

 

No need for a violent spectacle

on the lawn of the people’s

house. No need to reshape

and destroy this nation’s

original sins of slavery

and indigenous genocide.

No need to hide your gender,

skin color or faith. 

 

You are welcome in this place.

 

Come bring your children to

learn of the struggles for

equality, justice, and freedom.

 

Join hands with a stranger,

dance in the moonlight,

sing of hope and change,

believe in this country again. 

Ron Shapiro, an award-winning teacher, has published over 20 poems in publications including Nova Bards 24 & 25, Virginia Writers Project, The New Verse News, Poetry X Hunger, Minute Musings, Backchannels, Gezer Kibbutz Gallery, All Your Poems, Paper Cranes Literary Magazine, Zest of the Lemon and two chapbooks: Sacred Spaces, Wonderings and Understory, a collection of nature poetry.  

I, SYCOPHANT

by Pepper Trail

Cartoon by JD Crowe

You ask “How can you?”

You ask “Have you no pride?”

 

That just shows your ignorance, and you don’t even know it.

The first rule, of course, is never to ask a question.

 

The name and face of Our President deserves to be on every government building and document.

 

A Mixed Martial Arts cage fight on the White House lawn is a beautiful celebration of America.

 

A gilded triumphal arch is the perfect expression of our nation’s democratic ideals.

 

President Trump is the greatest peacemaker this nation has ever known.

 

There are those, maybe, who say these things but don’t believe them.

They are beneath contempt.

 

I do believe. Every day, more.  

Every day, I forget more that embarassment, my former self.

 

I was never the best.

Now, in His eyes, I am.  Or, I can be.

 

No one but President Trump could have saved us from the invasion of immigrant rapists.

                                                                                             from transgender girls playing sports.

                                                                            from electric cars.

                                                                         from Iran.

 

The perfection we see everywhere around us is all due to You and your wise leadership.

Everything I say is just a way of saying, God bless you, Mr. President.

Without You, I am only what I was before.  

Nothing.

Pepper Trail is a poet and naturalist based in Ashland, Oregon. His poetry has appeared in Rattle, Atlanta Review, Spillway, Kyoto Journal, Cascadia Review, and other publications, and has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net awards. His collection Cascade-Siskiyou was a finalist for the 2016 Oregon Book Award in Poetry.