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Showing posts with label Hamas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hamas. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 10, 2026

MIDDLE AGES CONTEMPORANEITY

by Judith Skillman




Herr Drumpf fastened by the feet

to a wooden panel, drawn behind a horse

as illustrated in Matthew Paris’s Chronica Majora,

hanged almost to the point

of death. Watch as Drumpf’s emasculated,

disemboweled, beheaded, quartered.

 

See his remains on display (as depicted in the execution

of Hugh Dispenser the Younger),

where a crowd of brightly dressed 13th century men

gather to view a ladder. A fire

blazes on the ground,

logs crisscrossed like bound limbs.

 

Another ladder holds green capped executioner

with his short sharp knife. I watch 

Mr. President’s flesh gape, pulled apart 

at collarbone and genitalia.

At the base of these Elizabethan ladders

placed in perspective by the painter, Froissart of Louise of Gruthuse,

 

a group of top-hatted gentlemen gesture.

Bulldozers sit where the ballroom

would have been, heaps of dirt piled. A group of giant moles

unearthed the newest labyrinth a la Hamas. 

And here we are, dressed to the nines,

wearing ballet-like slippers,

 

talking in low tones, holding not iPhones but harmonicas.

Let this be an example

for any would be high treasonist’s,

as well as Matthew Lambert,

the Irishman who suffered this punishment

as little ago as 1581. 

 

If he’d been a woman

he’d have been burned at the stake 

for reasons of public decency.



Judith Skillman is the author of twenty collections of poetry. Her work has appeared in Commonweal, Threepenny Review, The Southern Review, Zyzzyva, and numerous other literary journals. She has received funding from The Academy of American Poets and Artist Trust, among other organizations. Her new book is Oppression, Shanti Arts, 2026.

Friday, March 06, 2026

SHELTER FROM THE STORM

by Steven Kent


The Guardian, March 4, 2026


Our kids feel safe, say dads and moms

(Except for, you know, all the bombs).

They learn their science, math, and spelling

(Also how to hide from shelling).

Bless these teachers—they're the boss!

(Damn both Bibi and Hamas!)



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.

Friday, July 25, 2025

IT’S NOT (YET) TOO LATE (MAYBE)

by Katy Z. Allen


Gazans Are Dying of Starvation. —The New York Times, July 24, 2025


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


A monarch butterfly flutters among the bushes and flowers beside the pond.


Memories rise up: 

a transformational summer in Jerusalem studying Hebrew;

the power of my first experience of the Kotel;

a summer rabbinic seminar at the Shalom Hartman Institute;

visits with my future mother-in-law in Tel Aviv, and later, in Kfar Saba; 

bicycling the shaded byways of the Hula Valley and quiet desert roads of the Negev in support of “nature knows no borders.”


A pond blanketed with giant American Lotus leaves and blossoms spreads out before the eye.


Netanyahu, State of Israel,

it’s not yet too late. (Maybe.)

You still have time to change course,

to save your souls, 

and the souls of all Israelis,

and the souls all the Jews spread out 

around the planet;

you still have time to remember that G?d created every single human being on this planet

and that they are all sacred 

in the eyes of the Holy One of Blessing;

you still have time.


Tall spikes of purple and white showy tick-trefoil mingle with abundant Queen Anne’s lace.


You have the power, the knowledge, and the ability 

to send massive amounts of medical supplies and food to Gaza,

to guard them from Hamas with your troops,

and to feed and treat 

and save the lives of thousands of ordinary starving Gazans,

who are trapped by your inhumanity.

You still have time.


A great blue heron stands silently, gazing into the water, listening, waiting.


It’s not too late. Yet.

But before long it will be.

And then you will have not only 

the blood of many, many more children, women, and men on your hands and your hearts,

but you will have desecrated all that is sacred and holy of Eretz Yisrael;

you will have violated every one of the 613 mitzvot in the Torah,

if not by the letter of the law,

then most certainly by its spirit;

you will have lost and abandoned your humanity,

as individuals and as a country;

you will be deserving, 

(painful as it will be to watch), 

of every single bit of retribution that will come your way;

you will have destroyed the Jewish people and state more completely 

than Hamas could ever have dreamed of doing by itself;

you will have deserted your people,

your country,

and your G!d.


A pair of black and yellow swallowtail butterflies spiral upward in a dance of unity.



Katy Z. Allen is a lover of the more-than-human world, retired rabbi of an outdoor congregation, co-founder of a Jewish climate organization, eco-chaplain, and writer since the age of eight. Her poetry has appeared in The New Verse News and The Jewish Poets Collective Journal. Her poetic book, A Tree of Life: A Story in Word, Image, and Text was published by Strong Voices Publishing.

Tuesday, March 18, 2025

SUBJUNCTIVE

by Adrienne Pilon


Source: American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee at Instagram


If I write we are going to the sea if I write
shall be free if I write Palestine if I write 
protest or encampment or salaam
my brother if I write Allah if I write 
genocide if I write bombing or Gaza  
or Hamas if I write Zionist if I write
apartheid or war crimes if I write 
nearly 50,000 dead or children are dying
or ceasefire now these words may 
rise up from the text, flagged and marked 
by a force that gives no quarter 
to what it does not care to understand.
The ink of my pen draws a target 
on my back on the back of my mother 
my father my wife my husband 
my daughter my son my sister 
my brother salaam my brother 
salaam salaam salaam salaam


Adrienne Pilon is a writer, educator, and activist. Recent and forthcoming work appears in The Tiger Moth Review; Room; Tendon Magazine and elsewhere.

Monday, October 14, 2024

WAKING UP COLD

by Thomas R. Smith


Watercolor painting by Judys Art


October 2024


Change of the seasons, woke up cold.

Time to pile on extra blankets.

Thought of the people living in rubble,

huddling under whatever scrap of comfort

they can pull around their bones—sick,

hungry, broken, families blown away,

entire bloodlines erased.  With no plan

to rebuild, it could take generations.

How to face such a dawn knowing children,

grandchildren, great-grandchildren pre-condemned?

Nor to forget among the tens or hundreds

of thousands dead those double hostages

of Hamas and Bibi.  God help us all.

Woke this morning, cold from a year of war.



Thomas R. Smith’s recent books are a poetry collection Medicine Year (Paris Morning Publications) and a prose work Poetry on the Side of Nature: Writing the Nature Poem as an Act of Survival (Red Dragonfly Press). He lives in western Wisconsin near the Kinnickinnic River.

Sunday, May 12, 2024

SENATOR UNINFORMED

by Indran Amirthanayagam




A U.S. senator calls 

the tents set up 

at universities


camps for Hamas;

and he says

he supports Israel


and if Hamas 

surrenders

and hostages


are released

the war will end.

He adds 


that he is 

deeply 

disappointed


that the President

has paused

some shipments


of heavy weapons

to Israel. Deeply 

disappointed


Senator 

Fetterman?

That is how 


I feel as well 

about you. 

Your ignorance


resounds. This

is not  binary.

Instead 


of pledging 

allegiance to Israel

come what may,


why don’t you 

in turn bow 

to the Palestinian


right of return

to homes from which 

they have been  


expelled since 1948? 

Why don’t you cite 

the ever smaller


wedge of Palestinian 

land, about twenty 

percent of what 


was assigned

to them in 1948?

Can you manage


to turn your head

around that fact?

Twenty percent?. 


One fifth of 

a shrinking pie?

And you say,


hard disagree

deeply disappointed.

Mr. Fetterman


pitch your tent

in Gaza. Wait

for food 


to be dropped

from the sky

Run and hide


when bombs

fall down 

instead.



Indran Amirthanayagam is the translator of Origami: Selected Poems of Manuel Ulacia (Dialogos Books). Mad Hat Press has just published his love song to Haiti: Powèt Nan Pò A (Poet of the Port). Ten Thousand Steps Against the Tyrant (BroadstoneBooks) is a collection of Indran's poems. Recently published is Blue Window (Ventana Azul), translated by Jennifer Rathbun. (Dialogos Books). In 2020, Indran produced a “world" record by publishing three new poetry books written in three languages: The Migrant States (Hanging Loose Press, New York), Sur l'île nostalgique (L’Harmattan, Paris) and Lírica a tiempo (Mesa Redonda, Lima). He edits The Beltway Poetry Quarterly and helps curate Ablucionistas. He hosts the Poetry Channel on YouTube and publishes poetry books with Sara Cahill Marron at Beltway Editions.