Guidelines



Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com.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.
Showing posts with label rondeau. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rondeau. Show all posts

Saturday, August 17, 2019

WHO OWNS THE EARTH?

by Martin Elster


From “The Untold Benefits of Climate Change” by Kendra Wells at TheNib.


Renowned Harvard entomologist E.O. Wilson has said that without insects the rest of life, including humanity, “would mostly disappear from the land. And within a few months.” 
National Geographic, August 6, 2019


We own the earth. We buzz or hug
you in your bed, at times will bug
you when you taste like toothsome prey.
We flit around your cold buffet.
We’re sweat bee, darner, skeeter, slug,

the flea that’s pestering your pug.
We’re everywhere. You might go, “Ugh!”
when centipedes cruise by. Yet, say
we left the earth.

Perhaps you’d shout with glee, or shrug.
But think: no cherry, apple, mug
of honeyed tea, nor silver tray
of leafy greens would come your way.
You see, Big Brain? Don’t be so smug!
We own the earth.


Martin Elster serves as percussionist with the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. His poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. Honors include co-winner of Rhymezone’s 2016 poetry contest, winner of the Thomas Gray Anniversary Poetry Competition 2014, third place in the SFPA’s 2015 poetry contest, and three Pushcart nominations.

Thursday, January 01, 2015

THE EYE OF EARTH

by Martin Elster



Image source: NotThatKindofGirl



The eye of Earth peers, spellbound, through a chink
in melting pond ice, trying not to blink
into the blue enveloping its gaze.
It’s never seen the sun before, whose rays
scatter through the atmosphere, a link

to outer space, where constellations wink
their secrets. Billows take a healthy drink
of water vapor, amble past, amaze
    the eye of Earth.

Its habitat now teeters on the brink.
Though trees have bared their limbs, grooves black as ink
crisscross the leaf-strewn liquefying glaze,  
whose softening increases with the days.
The gravity of this, though, cannot sink
    the eye of Earth.


Martin Elster, author of There’s a Dog in the Heavens!, is also a composer and serves as percussionist for the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. His poems have appeared in such journals as Astropoetica, The Flea, The Martian Wave, The Rotary Dial, and in the anthologies Taking Turns: Sonnets from Eratosphere, The 2012 Rhysling Anthology, and New Sun Rising: Stories for Japan. Martin’s poem, “Walking With the Birds and the Bones Through Fairview Cemetery” received first prize in the Thomas Gray Anniversary Poetry Competition 2014.