By Michael H. Brownstein
Based on an image by artist Vony Razom, who is currently producing art from a bomb shelter in Ukraine
in the madness of the fertile lands,
a red blossom and its red leaves—
and from its seed, red caterpillars
bending into Red admirals, strong
in wing and shape, a rugged Vanessa
Welcome statement
“Parting Words from Moristotle” (07/31/2023)
tells how to access our archives
of art, poems, stories, serials, travelogues,
essays, reviews, interviews, correspondence….
tells how to access our archives
of art, poems, stories, serials, travelogues,
essays, reviews, interviews, correspondence….
Showing posts with label Ukraine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ukraine. Show all posts
Sunday, June 19, 2022
Sunday, June 12, 2022
All Over the Place:
War and Beauty
By Michael H. Brownstein
Let us say the colorful hummingbird symbolizes peace.
Let us say the two legged giant with weak arms is the gray of cruelty—
The hummingbird swift and agile, a glitter of texture;
the giant clumsy and slow, the creator of tools of destruction.
Labels:
All Over the Place,
Michael H. Brownstein,
poem,
poetry,
Ukraine,
verse,
Visual Verse,
Vladimir Putin
Sunday, May 29, 2022
All Over the Place:
Just Because a Leader Is Mad
Does Not Mean
You Must Follow Him
By Michael H. Brownstein
Putin tries to poke holes into the body’s work of a nation
but the body’s work of the nation cannot be poked through—
gut-shot punctuation, terrorist renderings, vocabulary of madness
and Russia bleeds fire, cruelty, vocabulary of an insane man's mind.
Labels:
All Over the Place,
Michael H. Brownstein,
poem,
poetry,
Russia,
Ukraine,
verse,
Vladimir Putin
Monday, April 25, 2022
We Humans (a poem)
By Neil Hoffmann
The day lingers late,
Grey, wet, cold and windy.
April showers seeming sad,
Not promising joy and beauty.
A last crust of winter, perhaps,
Soon to be forgotten
In an early summer blast.
The day lingers late,
Grey, wet, cold and windy.
April showers seeming sad,
Not promising joy and beauty.
A last crust of winter, perhaps,
Soon to be forgotten
In an early summer blast.
Labels:
Neil Hoffmann,
poem,
poetry,
Ukraine,
verse
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