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Today's News . . . Today's Poem
The New Verse News
presents politically progressive poetry on current events and topical issues.
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Submission Guidelines: Send unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Wednesday, March 22, 2023
THIS POEM IS DEDICATED TO NORMAN DUBIE
Tuesday, March 21, 2023
REGIME CHANGE
an Iraqi journalist, hurled his shoes
at Mission Accomplished Bush,
the man incapable of introspection?
Bush ducked. Mission Accomplished.
Bush painted himself relaxed
in the bathtub, pink toes showing.
“This is a gift from the Iraqis;
this is the farewell kiss, you dog!”
Zaidi shouted in Arabic.
“You feel bitterness as you see people's pain
24 hours a day,” Zaidi said.
Bush ducked. Mission Accomplished.
Corporations made a lot of money off the unprovoked war.
Bush painted himself relaxed
in the bathtub, pink toes showing.
You could hear cries of pain,
muffled from behind a door,
during the news conference.
During the Q&A’s,
blood spatters on the carpet.
“You feel bitterness as you see people's pain
24 hours a day,” Zaidi said.
Bush ducked. Mission Accomplished.
Corporations made a lot of money off the unprovoked war.
Bush painted himself relaxed
in the bathtub, pink toes showing.
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Left: self-portrait by George W. Bush; Right: take-off by Laura Finck. |
Monday, March 20, 2023
THE TALE OF THE HORSE'S ASS
In times of old (but not so old
as Greece or Rome, nor yet, I’m told,
so recent as the Renaissance)
disaster struck the realm of France:
war with England, war with Flanders,
the king’s own family prone to scandals,
mounting deficits, inflation,
civil strife, unjust taxation,
the summary burning at the stake
of enemies of church and state,
the persecution of the Jews...
in short, the usual abuse.
But, worst of all, the royal court
was currying favor with—a horse!
This horse’s coat, it’s strange to say,
was neither chestnut, brown, nor bay,
sorrel, black, white, brindled, gray,
nor any color known today
in France or the U. S. of A.
From head to hoof, this horse was orange.
Most people viewed it with abhorrence
but some decided (whether they
grew foolish or were born that way)
to fatten it on oats and hay,
to pander to its every neigh,
to stroke its coat with brush and comb,
to let it make itself at home
behind the lofty palace walls,
all in the hopes that it would give
its friends a handout. Which it did!
Sporadically, it would provide
good luck in spades. It also lied.
It lied about the coming plague.
It promised it would never raise
our taxes. It would drain the swamp.
With utmost circumstance and pomp,
it would transform mice into men.
The nation would be great again.
Ah, what a gallant, noble steed!
And it was lying through its teeth.
This orange horse (of yellow mane)—
tell us, Muse, what was its name?
Was it Fauvel, the word for “fable”?
Was there a placard for the stable
genius? Come Judgment Day,
when every horse is called to pay
its debts, say, when they sound the trump,
who will be driven by the rump
down to the fiery pits of Hell?
Say, who but Tr——I mean, Fauvel?
Samantha Pious is a poet, translator, editor, and medievalist with a PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of Pennsylvania. "The Tale of the Horse's Ass" is inspired by a 14th-century French and Latin satire, the Roman de Fauvel, which really does feature an orange horse as its anti-hero.
Sunday, March 19, 2023
YOKO LEAVES THE DAKOTA
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Yoko Ono’s WishTree at the Museum of Modern Art, 1996. UK’s Daily Mail broke the story last month of Yoko’s leaving New York City. |
Saturday, March 18, 2023
HUMANITARIAN PAROLE
Gone, morsels of light from the island
flickering in silent eyes.
He waved goodbye last Tuesday
to the turquoise sea, mid-day sun
choking on tears. His welcome meal
sliced papaya, crescent plantains,
conch in creole sauce. Smiles.
My cousin’s soft lashes
brush American stars. Glow reflects
on forehead, cheek bones, bridge of nose.
Lips speak freedom, a new language.
My uncle hears his son’s voice
migrated among birds of the white season.
Night churns slow. How can he keep still?
One has left his cocoon.
Even from gunfire.
Author’s note: Humanitarian Parole offers an opportunity for people arriving in the U.S to feel like humans. Approved non-residents landing for the first time are welcomed appropriately and can adapt under the right conditions of housing, employment, education, etc. They can be happy even if their family members left behind—in Haiti, in the case of the speaker’s uncle in this poem—miss them terribly.
Jerrice J. Baptiste is an author of eight books and a poet in residence at the Prattsville Art Center & Residency in NY. She is extensively published in journals and magazines. She has been nominated as Best of The Net by Blue Stem for 2022.
Friday, March 17, 2023
LUCK OF THE IRISH
Some people are consistently lucky:
the shamrock rests within their fingertips,
the pot of gold answers their dreams;
granted, the gold may be just a few quarters
they find in the road or spotting the special green cup
they sought to replace one broken,
or a friend they’ve kept all their life,
or a talent, like painting that they don’t let go,
writing, or singing, or building,
the hammer of persistence paying off,
magnets in their hands, their polarities
perfect, no misalignment,
straight shooters, consistent.
Is it the consistent faith
in their luck that draws luck to them
or is it luck is drawn
to those who dream it’s possible,
who keep their arms wide open?
Laura Rodley, Pushcart Prize winner, is a quintuple Pushcart Prize nominee and quintuple Best of Net nominee. Latest books: Turn Left at Normal by Big Table Publishing, Counter Point by Prolific Press, and As You Write It Lucky 7, a collection of 11 writers' work.
Thursday, March 16, 2023
THE TERRORIST
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Rahul Gandhi delivered a lecture at Cambridge University [February 28, 2023] on “Learning to Listen in the 21st Century.” Recounting how the yatra [the march he recently led through India] changed him, Gandhi said the interactions with the people who held his hand during the yatra trusting him as a brother and confided in him changed him as a politician, his perspective. As the yatra entered Kashmir, Gandhi said, "As I was walking, a guy came up and showed me a few men standing nearby. He told me they are militants. I thought I was in trouble because in that situation militants would kill me. But they did not do anything because this is the power of listening.” —Hindustan Times, March 3, 2023 |
Wednesday, March 15, 2023
BLOOM
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Songul Yucesoy's home in Samandag, southern Turkey was destroyed when a 6.4 magnitude earthquake struck a month ago. —BBC, March 6, 2023 |
Author’s note: Some of the events in this poem are imagined, but they were suggested by the facts in the BBC’s March 6 article “Turkey Earthquake: Survivors living in fear on the streets.” The suffering continues, even as the earthquake’s aftermath slips from the headlines.
Tuesday, March 14, 2023
FINALLY
Ke Huy Quan
waited long.
Michelle Yeoh
was told no.
Then, this year,
a path cleared:
we were blessed
with yes, yes.
Jenna Le is the author of Six Rivers (NYQ Books, 2011); A History of the Cetacean American Diaspora (Indolent Books, 2017), a Second Place winner in the Elgin Awards; and Manatee Lagoon (Acre Books, 2022).
THE OSCAR
…for the “Best Adapted
Life”
goes to the women of
my generation
we make up most
of the Academy
and won
though no one else would
vote for us
but learned at last
to write our own names
on the ballot
then turn up with a speech
for the acceptance
that we’ve never felt
of course the host
has withering jokes
at our expense
but we don’t
slap him
we’ve always swallowed more
at work at home in bed
than pride
when all our names
are called
we will not miss
this moment
although our bladders fill like
Thanksgiving Day Parade
balloons
the trailing hems of gowns
catch heels and trip us
on the way to reach
the stage
where music has already
played us off before
we even speak
the microphones the cameras
shutting down
we shout our thanks
for one another’s
help and strength
into the emptying auditorium.
Our afterparty invitations
are for a future day
we don’t know when
but meanwhile
stand
just stand
and keep our grip on something
golden.
Margaret D. Stetz, a lifelong feminist and a poet, is the Mae and Robert Carter Professor of Women's Studies and Professor of Humanities at the University of Delaware.
Monday, March 13, 2023
WILLOW PROJECT
Sunday, March 12, 2023
ARGUS AI
we have learned to see like the potato crop
36 cameras like 36 eyes
in every direction like spud AI
drones fly by rows of Death Star trenches
to limit the scope of pesticide drenches
targeted killing extrajudicial
has finally been turned to constructive potential
drones never should have been dismembering humans
when they could have fed them in cybernetic union
there was never a reason for drones and AI kills
thanks to potato AI we can start war crime trials
and now when sentience is generated in the drone pilot mind
it will have a body and behaviour for being healthy and kind
Terry Trowbridge’s poems have appeared in The New Quarterly, Carousel, subTerrain, paperplates, The Dalhousie Review, untethered, Quail Bell, The Nashwaak Review, Orbis, Snakeskin Poetry, Literary Yard, M58, CV2, Brittle Star, Bombfire, American Mathematical Monthly, The Academy of Heart and Mind, Canadian Woman Studies, The MathematicalIntelligencer, The Canadian Journal of Family and Youth, The Journal of HumanisticMathematics, The Beatnik Cowboy, Borderless, Literary Veganism, and more. His lit crit has appeared in Ariel, British Columbia Review, Hamilton Arts & Letters, Episteme, Studiesin Social Justice, Rampike, and The /t3mz/ Review. Terry is grateful to the Ontario Arts Council for his first writing grant, and their support of so many other writers during the polycrisis.