JOURNEY OF THE SARACENS

by Janice D. Soderling

Cartoon by Matt Bors / AlterNet, Sept. 8, 2015.

Christ set out on a rubber raft for Greece,
looking for a place to lay his head.
His father Yusuf said, "We come in peace."
"We come for peace," his mother Rasha said.

And Christ said nothing, smiled his knowing smile
for he had sailed a desert ship before.
Their sea-swamped vessel swayed mile after mile.
"We seek a refuge," said they. "Nothing more."

Wild Herod, as you know, kills sons of men.
The raft was crammed with babes both aft and fore.
And Rasha nursed her brown-eyed Saracen.
And Yusuf kept a look-out for the shore.

Through wintry lands they walked their weary walk
and begged for shelter for a little while.
Amid the festive songs and Christmas talk,
sweet Christ said nothing, smiled his knowing smile.


Janice D. Soderling is a frequent contributor to TheNewVerse.News.

JOSEPH'S GRAIN PYRAMID

by Alejandro Escudé

Cartoon by Bob Englehart, Hartford Courant, October 6, 2015

Stacked full, the loincloth peasants hoisting baskets
up the winding ramp to protect the world from

famine—a wide smile on the giddy prophet’s face,
a full moon like a Greek shield and Christ himself

cradling the planet: power gives to power, the surgeon
holding a scalpel like the reed of a scribe writes

the corporation of God on our minds, you may
renounce judgement, you may let the doubts go,

have faith only in him who knows the truth
and believes mightily enough to forgo knowledge.


Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems, My Earthbound Eye, in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.

PUSSY RIOT

by Peleg Held






Run your needles through, Maria.

Open the holes in the uniform of State Security.

Blessed be the easel of your frame, the canvas 

of your skin exposed to pigments of vulgarity.

The taste of power changes slowly in its madness.

Stalin still shows little care for poetry 

that bares its teeth to dominance.

Clean shaven, five blades deep,

his finger grubs grow thin and learn dexterity

from an acquiescent smile upturned in ritual purity.

Nadezdha, in the place of Joseph,

do you dream of hope and fury

while the catcalls waller on?

Hooligans. You shame them all


Peleg Held lives in Portland, Maine with his partner and his dog Emitt. There is also the semi-feral cat, Smudge. And a kid or two. He writes poetry, does woodworking and lately, dreams of the summer.