by Dan Campion

“Bob Moore, Who Founded Bob’s Red Mill, is Dead at 94”
—The New York Times

Bob lived a full, productive life.
His oat bran is my favorite.
Apparently, he sieved out strife.
Good taste, and sense to savor it.

by Marshall Begel

“Kolkata businessman climbs bridge to commit suicide, comes down after police lure him with biryani”
—The Economic Times

Great tragedies provide a list
Of things that heroes die for—
Revenge, allegiance, chances missed,
And longings lovers cry for.

But if more simple folk (like me)
Have such a crisis, then you
Recount the “live for” summary—
Their hometown restaurant menu.

by Julia Griffin

“Canterbury Cathedral defends silent discos against ‘rave in nave’ criticism …
The sell-out events… will see clubbers take to the nave in a ’90s-themed disco”
—The Independent

A rave in the nave?
When there’s souls they should save?
We’re wishing our bishops knew how to behave!

Were there balls in the stalls
Of the Abbey or Paul’s
When parishioners swished in their tailcoats and shawls?

Defiling the aisle
Causes Satan to smile.
“They’ll wreck it!” thinks Thomas à Becket, with bile.

These raps in the apse
Show the faith’s in collapse:
We’re urging our clergy: Act clerical, chaps!

by Bruce Bennett

“Pigeon accused of spying for China freed in India after 8-month detention”
—The Washington Post

A pigeon, unjustly accused,
Whose freedom for months was refused,
Not guilty of spying,
And now freely flying,
Must still feel maligned and abused.

by Nicole Caruso Garcia

“Former President Donald Trump shared a strange post on social media
asking his followers if they think he resembles Elvis Presley.”
—Business Insider

Trump thinks that Elvis Presley’s face
resembles (ha!) his own.
King wannabe, he’ll try ten times
to flush his golden throne.

I’d sooner vote for Elvis now;
go on, exhume The King.
We’ve seen Trump dance “Y.M.C.A.”;
Good Lord, don’t let him sing.

Impersonators do them both,
less kind to The Accused.
Yet jailhouse stripes, a sad hotel—
I see why Trump’s confused.

by Dan Campion

“After Humiliating Result in Nevada, Haley Goes After Her Own Party”
—The New York Times

“None of These Candidates” raked in the chips.
My bluffing was perfect, like one of the boys’,
So why did I lose like a whale? Read my lips:
The party confused things, all mirrors and noise.

“Chaos,” that’s what they keep dealing. Bad bets.
The RNC folded, betrayed by a tell,
And dragged me down low as a prop player gets,
That bunch of stand-patters bewitched by Don’s spell.

Read ’em and weep? Not a chance. Count me in.
Stuff happens in Vegas. It stays there, they say.
I’m on to the next game, and aiming to win.
My home state will greet a shark eager to play.

by Alex Steelsmith

“World Monuments Fund Transfers Management of Angkor Sites to Cambodia…
[E]fforts to preserve the precious relics were imperiled by the Cambodian Civil War of the 1970s…”
—Artnews

The artifacts of Angkor Wat
were once imperiled; now they’re not.
Where once there raged a discontent,
we now have Angkor management.

by Stephen Gold

“One in four French aren’t having sex, poll reveals.”
—The Times

“Chéri, do come with me to bed.”
“Lapin, you know I would,” I said.
“But though you’re hungry for amour,
And I’m entranced by your allure,
I feel an even greater need
To check up on my Facebook feed.”

Une autre nuit, and we are free
For some romantic revelry.
I hear you whisper, “Je t’adore.”
Your négligée falls to the floor.
Je t’aime, aussi, but on the whole,
I’d rather watch the Super Bowl.

Au lit I lie, un homme alone.
Since you walked out, I’m on my own.
Though désolé that you have left,
I’m not entirely bereft.
There’s so much more to life than sex.
Adieu, I must get back to X.

Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day, 2024

by Ilana Baer

Bring bonbons to the desert; later leisure
will prove that God made chocolate truffles sweet.
At dinner with your date, refuse to eat.
Contest the line dividing guilt and pleasure.
Pour glitter on your head; lament its excess.
Attend the Mass to help your pewmates flirt.
Write sonnets and love letters in the dirt
and sign with not your name, or Os, just Xs.
Become your own admirer, then repent.
Let passion make you pious; saints will swoon.
Distribute flowers every day of Lent.
Put ashes on whatever you adore:
the teddy bear, the cards, the pink balloon
now sinking to the dusty kitchen floor.

by Paul Lander

“Some people are more famous for their contributions to music than they are for being late
to their own concerts. Axl Rose is not one of those people.”
—Vice

Happy Birthday, Axl
Could’ve been days ago. But:
He just now showed up.

Steven Urquhart Bell

“Should more British homes be built using straw?”
—BBC

In England I can see it making sense—
For Scotland to adopt it would be mad.
It’s possible we might bring back the wolf,
And what if some are really big and bad?

by Simon MacCulloch

“Millions of dollars in sales of North Korean false eyelashes—marketed in beauty stores around the world
as ‘made in China’—helped drive a recovery in the secretive state’s exports last year.
The processing and packaging of North Korean false eyelashes—openly conducted in neighbouring China,
the country’s largest trading partner—gives Kim Jong Un’s regime a way to skirt international sanctions
[that were intended to stall Pyongyang’s nuclear weapons program], providing a vital source of foreign currency.”
—Reuters

It’s really quite scary to think
That thanks to a secretive link
A nuclear stash
Can be bought for a lash
And we’re buying it each time we blink.

by Marshall Begel

“When Elmo, the Muppet, innocently asked people how they were on [Twitter],
thousands of users replied, sharing their grief and despair.”
—BBC

How is everyone today?
Feeling hopeless, in dismay?
Elmo can relate to struggles.
Elmo offers online snuggles.
Muppets truly understand—
Inside, we all need a hand.

by Barbara Loots

“The NFL is totally RIGGED for the Kansas City Chiefs, Taylor Swift, Mr. Pfizer (Travis Kelce).
All to spread DEMOCRAT PROPAGANDA. Calling it now: [During the Super Bowl]… Swift comes out
at the halftime show and ‘endorses’ Joe Biden with Kelce at midfield. It’s all been an op since day one.”
—Mike Crispi, advancing one of many right-wing conspiracy theories involving Swift, Kelce and the Super Bowl 

Our powerful forces are working in secret!
A handsome tight end and a popular singer
are clouding the minds and the hearts of the people
with phony romance and a vaccine humdinger!

To further our purpose of sinking the country,
we’ve rigged a whole season of fake competition,
propping up psyops to spread propaganda,
promoting our liberal plot of sedition.

Perhaps fans won’t notice in all of the uproar
the sinister message we Libs are promoting:
that justice and truth and humanity matter.
And they can insist on their freedom by voting!

by Bruce Bennett

“A mysterious sound is bugging Fla. residents. It might be fish mating.”
—The Washington Post

Boom boom… Boom boom… Boom boom… Boom boom…
like noisy neighbors in a room
next door. It’s bugging you. You wish
they’d cut it out. Except, it’s fish.