(All poems by Bruce Dale Wise)
Another Mass Murder in the News
by Bilee Wad Curse
He was an atheist who called churchgoers “stupid” on
his Facebook pages where he posted “She’s a bad bitch” gun,
an AR-15 semiautomatic that he used
to murder at least twenty-six in bloody-hell diffused.
Mass shooter Kelley injured too, in Sutherland Springs Church,
another twenty people with his hateful, mental smirch.
Court-martialled five years back from the United States Air Force,
for his assault upon his wife and child, in due course.
He hoped perhaps to kill his in-laws who weren’t present at
the church they had gone to, in what was not a random act.
If only he’d gone to that church to seek the love of Christ,
to understand the mercy that he wanted sacrificed,
instead of like those vile ones with bombs, trucks, cars and guns,
who try to shatter grace and joy with violence unspun.
Bilee Wad Curse is a poet of crime.
The First Thanksgiving
by Usa W. Celebride
Though not the first time folks had given thanks to God above,
the first Thanksgiving in America was touched with love;
for of one-hundred-two Mayflower passengers arrived,
just forty-four or so by the next autumn had survived.
Chief Massasoit of nearby Wampanoags made a pack
with Puritans because he feared Narragansett attack.
With help from Squanto, Pilgrims learned to fertilize their fields;
with fish remains their corn grew tall and made enormous yields.
The Harvest Festival came in Fall 1621
and thankful people dined on turkey, corn and venison.
In 1863, Abe Lincoln made Thanksgiving Day,
a celebration for the nation in times just as gray.
Usa W. Celebride is a poet of America, who loves the USA.
Media Feeding Frenzy at the Koi Pond Photo Op
by “Lice Brews” Ueda
After a few scoops,
after Abe tossed his box,
Trump dumped his box too;
and then the two of them left
to a lunch off from the zoo.
“Lice Brews” Ueda is a poet fond of Japan, and things Japanese, like the tanka.
All three poems are merely occasional pieces. In the first poem, the language is harsh, like the topic, as in an unnuanced news clip. The second poem is like one of those pro forma pieces expected of poet laureates. The last poem is a very overt tanka. In each poem the last word has an extra punch. The interest for me in the first two poems is the metrical content in the first poem, like “AR-15 semiautomatic,” “Southerlands Spring Church,” “United States Air Force,” and in the second poem, “Chief Massasoit of nearby Wampanoags,” remeniscent of Wallace Stevens “Bantams in Pine-Woods,” and the concluding “long a” assonance.
Mr Wise, “The First Thanksgiving” and “Media Feeding Frenzy at the Koi Pond Photo Op” —aren’t bad at all— as Robert Fitzgerald or Robert Lowell, both minor poets themselves, used to say to their students after having read one or two of their laboured-over poems. My hat goes off to you.