NEW CHAIRMAN OF THE KENNEDY CENTER IMPOSED

by Leslie Kenna

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

Mr. Trump posted on social media: “It is a Great Honor to be Chairman of The Kennedy Center, especially with this amazing Board of Trustees. We will make The Kennedy Center a very special and exciting place!” —The New York Times, February 12, 2025

Dismiss the bass.
Silence the wind.
Send the oboes home.
 
Fling the flutes.
Torch the triangle.
Sever strings on the harp.
 
Stop the metronome.
Punch through drums.
Shred all sheet music.
 
Fire the conductor.
Topple the chairs.
Slam the curtain down.
 

No more music!
Except for the Trumpet,
the solitary Trumpet,

metallic and flatulent

one off note repeats
incendiary words.

We are revolting.

We are so revolting.

Leslie Kenna is a writer and scientist living in Maryland. Credits include New York Times Tiny Love, NPR-affiliate station KUNC, TedEd, @NYPL, and Bacopa Literary Review.

CHAT GPT

by Harold Oberman

AI-generated image

AI ate my sonnet.

Gulped it down / Digested it,

Spit it out in reconstituted iambs.

I want to slip it some clichés,

Gunk up its system with pablum,

Make its metaphors as mediocre as mine.

Oh, don’t taunt me you rhyming clock,

You metronome, you precise pizza.

You took away my love of form,

Translated poetry into pi.

Eat it all my clever friend.

Harold Oberman is a poet and lawyer writing in Charleston, S.C. He has appeared recently in The New Verse News, The Free State Review, An Anthology of Low Country Poets, and has been honored by the Poetry Society of South Carolina for, among other things, a sonnet. However, he has given up on that after a now antiquated version of AI generated the following poem, with minor prodding, in 3 seconds:

Oh gravity, force that keeps us all in place,

That pulls us down and holds us to the earth,

A power strong and constant in its pace,

That gives our feet a steady, solid girth.

But horses, with their grace and beauty wild,

Seem not to feel the pull of gravity's might,

They gallop free, their manes and tails unfurled,

As if to mock the laws that bind us tight.

But though they seem to fly, they too are bound,

By gravity's unyielding grip on all,

And though they run with freedom all around,

They too must fall, when gravity's call.

So let us strive to soar, like horses do,

But always keep in mind, gravity's rule.