Air Raid Siren

By Theresa CancroWilmington, Delaware, USA air raid siren—a little girl lullabiesher doll

Humanitarian Aid

By John PappasBoston, Massachusetts, USA humanitarian aidspilling out of the baga parent’s hope 

Boy with a Bow

By Gary LeBel "Bring me my Bow of burning gold"William Blake, Jerusalem He may be all of ten. He's hiked on ahead of his elders and younger siblings, taken the leadon the trail, a blazer, protector, explorer, loner, or budding alpha male. As he walks someten to twenty paces ahead of me, I can hear him as he talks to himself or perhaps he'ssinging. Missing its quiver and arrows, he carries a bow at his side, but soon hangs it over hisshoulder so that it rides his back like an Arthurian knight, or a Cheyenne leading his pony.When he slows…

Plastic Apocalypse

By Anna CatesWilmington, Ohio, USA “Doomsday is quite within our reach, if we will only stretch for it.”—Loudon Wainwright III Time moves counterclockwise to heal the breach.Do we dare to name it, to face what we betray?Toxic world; do we dare to eat a peach?Time moves counterclockwise to heal the breachWhile those who long for doomsday reach—The fruition of our blunder, Orwellian, they say.Time moves counterclockwise to heal the breach.Do we dare to name it, to face what we betray? golden tonesof a seaside sparrowwho will listen?

Ode to the Dragon Rider

By Anna CatesWilmington, Ohio, USA I have panted for green placesstanding before statues:admirable men to questionable menmortals on horses, Confederate generalsto conquistadors, cowboy cliches, Marlboro Menof deceptive advertising, the old and uglyeven the beautiful, masterfully chiseled cold stoneor too hot to touch in record-breaking heatleaving a thirst for boundless verdancyan infinity of flowers and trees, a landof clear water and skies, for you and meand every peaceful Ferdinand.* Ride fiery dawnon a monstrous snakewith wings! *In Munro Leaf’s children’s classic, The Story of Ferdinand (1936), the peace-loving bull, who preferred smelling flowers to bullfights.

To Each Their Own

By Anna CatesWilmington, Ohio, USA version of justiceimage of godprayers at duskon either side of invisible linesshifting left or rightat the whim of strong menmuscling pawns . . .they aren’t so mean, are they? a white butterflyenters his dream—  the fallen trooper

New Year

By Sankara Jayanth SudanaguntaHyderabad, India new year...the bullet-riddled shopfrontgets a makeover Failed Haiku, Issue #85

The Iconoclasm of Artifice

by Edward Cates and Anna Cates To me, ancient ruinsAre always preferableTo stark metropolitan glitz Let me see the placesWhere time has seeped intoLichen-wreathed stoneworkAppreciating nature's revulsionAt the angular excesses of manSet my soul free to danceWhere the wild winds whistleUntamed through empty panesLet my tired heart again savor  The taste of reclamation There is oft more beautyIn where man once wasThan where he yet remainsArtistry in tumbledown ruinsDeciphered by nature’s penTranscribing life onto bricksIn fantastical, kenopsic verseTeach us to love her poetryLet our hearts learn to exult inThe iconoclasm of artifice antique landeroded strand revealingthe cairn . . .poised like…

The Cyclorama  

By Tish DavisConcord Township, Ohio, USA as blood seepsfrom the soldiers’ earshandmade bone dicetumble out of crevicesin the hastily built stone wall After touring the museum, I ride the escalator up and onto the battlefield.  An attendant directs the crowd into the chaos silently motioning us to step in closer, to step down onto the dimly lit viewing platform that encircles Philippoteaux’s, Battle of Gettysburg. I stand, by chance, near an exploding caisson.  Wood bites from a splintered carriage carve jagged cuts deep in my skin; gunpowder dust—brushed hot and thick—swells my lungs. A wild eyed gelding— riderless, powerful legs in…

Turtle Moon

By R. Suresh BabuChikmagalur, Karnataka, India turtle moonan overturned frisbeeon the beach

No Quarter

by Richard GrahnEvanston, Illinois, USA fields of cotton . . .we sing "Amazing Grace"with the larksPine shadows rest on the flowering dogwood. Steadfast, we've marched to this place. The Southern Cross and Old Glory wave—colors of this April day. Soon the sky will turn to smoke and spider lilies will weep. Rows of soldiers stand in the oaks as we kneel near the Poison Spring. A cloud obscures the sun and I hear the battle cry. The air swells thick with blood. Recalling their chains, I pull the trigger. waspsin the beehive—family feud Once, twice, they charge, then scurry back…

Sundown 

By Kala RameshChennai/Pune, India Meanwhile a city wired to the hustle and bustle of aspirations.     Kali temple     a mantra-mumbling priest     cuts the goat's throat Bones Journal: #22, February 2021

The Red Dot

By Kala Ramesh Chennai/Pune, India the red dot on my forehead binds me            to a man who's in his own orbit          parading          the so-called equality          with iron bars concealed …          this urban woman lives          in her dreams —tanka doha (tanka couplet) Kabir, a 15th-century Indian mystic-poet-saint, is famous for his doha. We have longer tanka sequences, but there is something special about a twin tanka which says so much in a short span of 10 lines. 

Tiger Tiger

By Kala RameshChennai/Pune, India tiger tigerdwindling rapidly—my grandchildone day will know youonly from pictures Tanka 2020 (Red Moon Press Anthology)

Early Spring

By Neena SinghChandigarh, India early spring . . .young doves cooamid war sirens Chrysanthemum, issue 30, Spring 2023, 15/4/23

Starless Night

Neena SinghChandigarh, India starless nightthe abused child’sblank lookhaiku Dialogue, facial expressions- sadness 1.11.23

Sturgeon Moon

Neena SinghChandigarh, India sturgeon moon—a tramp rummagesfor his livelihoodHaikuNetra 1.1, 10 September 2023

Vultures

Kala RameshChennai/Pune, India vulturesaround a dead elephant -tusks missing Modern Haiku: issue 52.1, February 2021