WHILE TAPPING MY FOOT

by Mark Hendrickson

Rothko Style Art at Etsy

AI slop tops Billboard and Spotify charts as synthetic music spreads —The Guardian, November 13, 2025

MIT Invents Injectable Brain Chips —Futurism, November 16, 2025

While tapping my foot

to the AI-generated 

number one song 

on the billboard charts

that I asked Siri to play,

I abandon my Kindle book 

and switch to my iPhone 

to shop for paintings 

in the style of Rothko on Etsy,

but I become distracted 

by automated news summaries

reporting that computer chips can now 

be injected directly into our brains,

and how many jobs will be lost

to AI and automation,

and an article saying 

that one day soon 

robots will replace or kill us all.

I laugh to myself and say, 

“Never gonna happen” 

as I click the Buy Now button

because I decide 

I like the reproduction

better than the original.

Mark Hendrickson (he/him/his) is a poet and writer in the Des Moines area navigating the Sturm und Drang of daily life through wordcraft. His words appear in The Ekphrastic Review, The New Verse News, and Modern Haiku. Follow him @MarkHPoetry or at https://www.chillsubs.com/profile/mhendrickson .

THANKSGIVING

by Morrow Dowdle

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

My four year-old comes into the bathroom where I sit. 

He turns the toilet paper roll slowly, says, It’s a nice day

for peeing. Thankful for the body and its routines. 

And so am I—thankful for emptyings and intakes,

 

the food soon to be had, then had for days after. Thankful

I will eat more than a side salad. Thankful this holiday’s lie

of peace between buckle-hatted colonists and Indigenous

victims is obsolete. Thankful we gather anyway. 

 

Thankful for what won’t be at the table—china and silver,

political scuffles, sullen drunks. The chain-smoking

grandmother’s green bean casserole. The pedophile

grandfather’s electric knife. White-knuckled silence. 

 

Thankful for the Peanuts meme my sister texts,

that after all the fallings-out, we’ve righted the rowboat

called Family of Origin. Thankful I’ve been back

on antidepressants for a week and feel like having sex again,

 

or at least a hug. That I can forgive myself for not missing

someone recently deceased, but feel the burn of grief

for those who do, light a candle at the empty plate. 

I can forgive myself for singeing the cranberry sauce

 

and buying the wrong-sized pie crust, and not extrapolate

that I’m a failure. See, I’ve been fumbling towards sainthood,

but now I’m aiming at stable and decent and good enough. 

Thankful to host rather than be hosted, to have more

 

than leftovers to offer. Thankful to prepare every room

for guests, to cross each threshold and see traces

of my persistence. Thankful my son gave me this poem

and that I could receive it, knowing there will be days ahead

 

when verse will flow like gravy, and days there will be none,

and my mind will feel stale as the cheap white bread

we use to make the stuffing. But there will be days. 

There will be days.

Morrow Dowdle (they/them) poet / arts organizer / curator "Weave & Spin" performance series and open mic (founder/curator/host) @morrowdowdle (Instagram)

THE GIRL; A DIAMOND

by Jennifer Schneider

in honor of the Women’s Professional Baseball League Draft—gems, in a league of their own.

For the first time in history, women’s professional baseball players heard their names called in a Draft. The inaugural WPBL Draft on November 2025 was more than just a list of picks; it was be the moment when the league’s four founding teams took shape. The newly assembled teams will then begin preparing for the inaugural season. For the athletes, it will mean competing alongside—and against—the best players in the world. For fans, it’s the start of a new tradition: professional women’s baseball at a level never seen before. —WPBL

The girl spends her days dreaming of diamonds. 
The girl spends her nights playing the field.
The girl fields heavy hitters. The girl
catches sluggers. Of dingers and stingers
and grand-slam aces, the girl swings.
The girl hits as hard as she pitches.
She doesn’t care for cracker jacks.
She doesn’t bluff the crowd’s backs.
She doesn’t whistle at strikes.
She doesn’t negotiate the crows’ caw.
She doesn’t wait for a league to call.
She plays in a league of her own.
She plays the game she loves.
She loves her life.
She relishes full counts.
She balances balls like Jello.
She calculates the distance
from home at awkward angles.
She drives hard. She runs harder.
She’s strong. She’s tough. Tougher
than the Earth’s hardest, natural
mineral. She’s a natural gem.
A woman. A pioneer. A revolution
in motion. Fingers wrapped
around wood. She’s at home on the turf.
She’s got good eyes and a love of leather.
She prefers supple gloves, white pants,
and form-fitting helmets. She doesn’t need
a diamond on her finger. She hits her own home runs.
Of blisters, bloopers, and bleeders, she cleans–
she cleans the bases. Of manicured fields
and destination bleachers, the girl is a pro. The girl
is home, home at last–at the plate where the diamond
begins and where the diamond ends.

Jennifer Schneider is an educator who lives, writes, and works in small spaces throughout Pennsylvania. Recent works include A Collection of Recollections, Invisible Ink, On Habits & Habitats, and Blindfolds, Bruises, and Breakups.

THE BOOK OF QUIET GIRLS WHO BURN

by Linda K. Sienkiewicz

To the pediatrician who insisted on taking a rectal temperature with me across his knees,

To the pediatrician who tweaked my nipples during a physical,

To the neighbor’s grandfather who worked his fingers into my shorts,

To the stranger in Woolworth’s who grabbed my hand to rub against his crotch and ran,

To the boy who called me into the pool for one last swim and tried to drown me,

To the mechanical drawing teacher who rubbed his elbow against my breasts while checking my work,

To the employer who told his female, high-school-aged staff that whoever got the most sales would win an overnight date with him,

To the guy who raced his car through town while I screamed for life from the passenger seat after I said I was breaking up with him,

To the recruiter who told me to wear a short skirt to the job interview,

To the hiring manager who instructed waitress applicants to go heavy on makeup,

To the neurologist who sat on the arm of my chair, pinning me there in nothing but a hospital gown, while discussing my options,

To the employer who gave me a gold necklace but told me never to wear it at work,

To the guy who date raped me in a warehouse loft,

To the guy who parked in the woods and shoved my head into his crotch,

To the guy who said he should rape me after I broke up with him,

I remember every one of you.

Quiet. Quiet piggy.

Linda K. Sienkiewicz is the author of the multi-finalist award-winning novel Love and Other Incurable Ailments, forthcoming novel In the Context of Love, five poetry chapbooks and a children’s picture book. Among her awards are a poetry chapbook and a Pushcart Prize Nomination in poetry. She holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing, and serves as Honorary Director of Detroit Working Writers.

A COUP DOH! TO BRAZIL

by Steven Kent

ID 259791971 | Bolsonaro © Alf Ribeiro | Dreamstime.com

"Jailhouse shock: Brazil coup monger Bolsonaro finally faces life behind bars" —The Guardian, November 20, 2025

There's a shift in opinion: Today

Bolsominions indignantly say

Jails are too inhumane,

Though they've made it quite plain

Up till now that's the only Right way.

Steven Kent is the poetic alter ego of writer and musician Kent Burnside. His work appears in 251, Asses of Parnassus, The Dirigible Balloon, Light, Lighten Up Online, The Lyric, New Verse News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Philosophy Now, The Pierian, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, Snakeskin, and Well Read. His collections I Tried (And Other Poems, Too) (2023) and Home at Last (2025) are published by Kelsay Books.

USAID

by Lynne Barnes

Cleveland Clinic

(Understanding Unloved-Unloving, Untreated, Up-thrust Sociopaths Always Injure & Destroy)

 

1.

U and I have been

Sending

Aid to

Individuals

Destitute around the world, for

Decades.

 

Donald is now at the helm of our ship of state,

Doing away with our helping hand, and the

Death toll is hundreds of thousands so far.

Destined to reach 14 million over what will be the next

Dreadful ten years if we don’t resist, re-find and restore our

Democracy’s humanitarian kindness.

 

Unless we persist, prevent this, we are

Sliding into

An era of 

Intense, horrific

Destruction and death around our globe.

 

2.

Dark Triad is not a diagnosis,

            but a poem, penned by psychologists—

            a metaphor for a group of traits.

 

Dark Triad humans—

Deny

Devalue

Distract

Dominate

Deviate, fall into

Dysfunction.

Dark Triad is narcissism, psychopathy, and

            Machiavellianism intertwined.

 

Dark Tetrad adds a verse to the poem—

            Sadism— pleasure at the suffering of others.

 

            We must

 

Disarm Donald, our fellow damaged,

        handicapped human, remove him from his

            legal and military commands, and

 

            pray that we never allow a

Dark triad/tetrad human, incapable of empathy, to

Dump shit on us ever again.

Lynne Barnes is a retired psychiatric nurse and librarian living in San Francisco, honored that her poems have appeared in past months in The New Verse News. Her poetry memoir, Falling Into Flowers (Blue Light Press, 2017) was a finalist for the 2018 Eric Hoffer Book Award.

AFTER THE SHOOTINGS

by Karen Marker

Hundreds of students walked off Oakland’s Skyline High School campus on Tuesday [November 18], calling for the school and district to do more to counter gun violence. They say the Oakland Unified School District needs to provide more education and better support for students who don’t feel safe on campus after shootings at two Oakland schools last week. Last Wednesday [November 12], a Skyline student was shot during the school day, and two other young people were arrested in connection with the altercation. Just a day later, Oakland’s beloved Laney College Athletic Director John Beam was shot and killed on the junior college campus. Beam, who was featured on the final season of Netflix’s docuseries Last Chance U while he was coaching the Laney Eagles, began his Oakland career at Skyline, leading the school’s football team to 15 championships over 17 years, according to OUSD Superintendent Denise Saddler. (Photo: Gustavo Hernandez/KQED) —KQED, November 18, 2025

I admit I am glad 
it’s no longer my job 
to be called out in a crisis—
part of the Response Team
at Skyline High, first to gather 
students together after 
the shooting, sit them 
in a circle so they can share 
feelings of shock 
between waves of grief 
and anger, between questions
about how much damage 
a ghost gun can do, 
how impossible 
to trace all this 
back to the beginnings
of neglected cries for help 
and so much hunger—
what was said on social media
no one warned about
those who knew the shooter
the student shot
the football coach
shot by a former student—
all those wondering 
where did we go wrong
how do we make our schools 
and city free of violence
would more mental health services 
solve the problems? For so many years 
I was out in the field offering solace, 
seeking solutions but tonight 
with no moon I’m seeing only the shooting 
of a star—the icon, hero coach 
is gone and all this
against the backdrop of news 
alerts from NextDoor 
please people be safe—
badgeless masked ICE agents, 
like ghost guns 
impossible to trace
are now active in neighborhoods 
all over the city we love
while I’m still reeling.

 

Karen Marker is an Oakland, CA. poet activist and retired school psychologist who has committed to  writing a poem a day of protest and hope in response  to current events. Her first poetry book Beneath the Blue Umbrella came out recently with Finishing Line Press and explores family mental illness, stigma and healing. 

OUR PUSHCART PRIZE NOMINEES

The New Verse News is proud to announce its nominees for the next series of the Pushcart Prize.

Click on a title below to read the poem..

Published January 13, 2025

TO THE ASHES IN L.A. by Alexis Krasilovsky

Published March 7, 2025

WOMEN’S HISTORY 2025: SAY HER NAME by Robin Stevens Payes

Published August 27, 2025

GREEN by John Minczeski

Published September 23, 2025

DAUGHTERS by Clare Richardson-Barlow

Published October 12, 2025

2025 by Susan Vespoli

Published November 5, 2025

BJÖRN IN VENICE by Julia Griffin

COP 30 CLOSING DAY LIMERICK

by Paul A. Freeman

With half the world living on gruel,

we’re treating the planet most cruel.

The ice sheets are thawing,

and CO₂’s soaring,

yet still we won't dump fossil fuel.

Paul A. Freeman is an English teacher. He is the author of The Movement, a dystopia-Americana novel set in a future United States. It is available from Amazon as an ebook download and as a paperback. His first book, Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel taught at ‘O’ level in Zimbabwean high schools, was also translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of numerous published short stories, poems and articles. He works and resides in Mauritania, Africa.

SAY THEIR NAMES

by Pamela Kenley-Meschino

Rep. Jared Moskowitz (D-Fla.) on Tuesday read aloud a passage of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s memoir in which she describes shooting her pet dog, Cricket, during a committee markup on a bill related to deporting migrants who harm animals. —The Hill, November 18, 2025

She killed the dog, he said,

reading from her own words,

shot a puppy not yet grown,

its unruliness put down.

 

Fourteen months young,

he spoke the name so we could

witness her transgression,

not the puppy’s—Cricket.

 

Some snickered at the obvious,

a killer of dogs in charge,

rounding up castaways

for gravel pits unknown. 

 

It’s no joke.

 

Some countered stories

from the other side, 

of beagles left behind in labs,

abuse for an abuse.

 

What about that?

 

All agreed that dogs must

not be harmed. 

Save them all from 

cruelty’s bloody hands.

 

We vouch for Cricket’s rights

as we shout for human rights,  

to live without fear or discrimination.

We need to say all their names.

 

She killed the dog; in her own 

words, she hated the dog.

 

Pamela Kenley-Meschino is originally from the UK, where she developed a love of nature, poetry, and music, thanks in part to the influence of her Irish mother. She is an educator whose classes explore the connection between writing and healing, as well as the importance of shared stories.