by Steven Urquhart Bell

“Cornwall libraries offer blood pressure monitors”
—BBC

Although I have an exercise regime,
At my age I would welcome such a scheme
To check my vital signs are A-okay,
Before I borrow Fifty Shades of Grey.

by Julia Griffin

“Harry Potter fans boo as King’s Cross ends ‘back to Hogwarts’ tradition
Fans at London station left disappointed after fictional train’s departure not announced
on public address system”
—The Guardian

There’s bitterness this morning at King’s Cross.
A broomstick-toting crowd begins to boo,
Disgusted by this unexpected loss:
The Hogwarts train is canceled! Yes, it’s true:
It’s gone. What’s public transport coming to?
Before you know, some jobsworth will have banned
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.

No easy route to Gotham City now.
You’ll have to get to Bedrock on your feet.
Crossing the Looking Glass? Please tell me how.
Some Moriarty’s certain to delete
All railway lines that run to Baker Street;
Next up, the sieve that bore the Jumblies, and
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.

They’ve stopped the bus to Hundred Acre Wood.
They’ve taken off the shuttle to Toad Hall.
You can’t reach Avonlea as once you could,
And nothing runs to Middle Earth at all.
We’ll go no more to Asterix’s Gaul,
But still in dreams we’ll see them drift, unmanned:
The ice cream floats en route to Candy Land.

by Kaitlyn Spees

“California lawmakers want to… [require] technology in your car to warn you when you’re speeding.
Safety advocates say speed assistance technology can reduce traffic deaths, but critics say California
is moving too fast.”
—NPR

Should cars inform us when we speed?
Say Californians: “Yes!”
(As long as cars don’t start to snitch
When we don’t stop, I guess.)

by Dan Campion

“Engineers Gave a Mushroom a Robot Body And Let It Run Wild”
—Science Alert

I clicked. I saw. I wondered, Why
Not make a robot pizza pie
Whose sausage flew it, like a drone
That homed in on my door by phone,
To feed my ever-so-smart house
With crumbs to treat the robot mouse.

by Bruce Bennett

Kudos to Kamala and Tim.
I’ll vote for her. I’ll vote for him.
I’m eager that they do not fail.
But six asks in this morning’s mail?

I’ve given and I’ll give again.
I can’t say, though, exactly when,
but this much I can say for sure:
before then there’ll be dozens more!

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

“Russian scientists have been ordered to hand over details of their latest research into anti-ageing
remedies in a suspected bid to keep alive Vladimir Putin and his circle of Kremlin cronies.
The edict came from the ‘biggest boss’…”
—Daily Mail

The biggest boss’s bio-lab brigade
Has orders for an anti-aging pill,
Ensuring his demise can be delayed
By decades. Then the tsar can still fulfill
Imperial designs. And all his gray,
Gerontocratic Kremlin cronies can
Go giddy at the thought they may, some day,
Extend their lives to twice the current span …
Still, medical ambitions cost a bomb.
The Kremlin hawks will know, this question must
Be asked: where is the money coming from?—
One pill for him could make his war go bust …
Some day we’ll say he did not preen in vain,
Should vanity bring peacetime to Ukraine!

by Steven Kent

“ABBA demand Trump campaign stop using their music at rallies”
—The Guardian

“Jack White threatens to sue Trump campaign over use of music”
—The Guardian

No more ABBA at rallies each night,
No Beyoncé or Petty or White.
Ditto Springsteen and Hayes
(Though Ted Nugent still plays)—
Are there any good jams on the Right?

by Nora Jay

“At sweltering Venice film festival [George Clooney] denies that he and Brad Pitt have been paid $35m each …
“It is millions and millions and millions of dollars less than what was reported,” Clooney told a packed-
out press conference on Sunday.”
—The Guardian

It never sounds good, howsoever you’re courted
For bone-shape and general brilliance,
To state that your paycheck is less than reported
By millions and millions and millions.

by Alex Steelsmith

“A French museum announced members of the public are being invited
to view its exhibit on naturism while wearing nothing but a pair of shoes.”
—UPI

Public members are invited;
surely many will be sighted,
raw and naturistic.
After all, an exhibition
tends to be, by definition,
exhibitionistic.

by Eddie Aderne

“All of London’s seedy poetry is there to see in the setting for TV thriller”
—The Guardian

Ah, London’s seedy poetry! Relayed for all to see!
Its origin’s no younger than the fourteenth century:
Recall the Reeve’s and Miller’s Tales, and other fabliaux,
Now findable on Google, if you’re sure you want to know.
Remember Swift’s foul “Shower,” with the offal-oozing ditches,
The Beggar’s Opera songs assigned to robbers, pimps, and snitches,
And, later, Blake’s young harlot, and De Quincy’s dens (O curse!—
I’ve only just remembered that he didn’t write in verse).
Time passed, and brought The Waste Land’s shady Stetson, summoned wryly
Through urban murk (though, oddly, it appears he fought at Mylae);
Then “London Roses,” Willa Cather’s dyslogy, which shows
The city is a cesspit that can even spoil a rose.
This crustiness seems one of those interminable vogues:
Think Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd and all that squalor from the Pogues;
From Chaucer to last Tuesday, London seethes with poetry!
Go look it up. I’m busy disinfecting my TV.

by Bruce Bennett

“Trump Team Clashed With Official at Arlington National Cemetery
The military cemetery said… federal law prohibits political campaigning on the grounds”
—The New York Times

“Suckers and losers,” when the time is right,
can be brought in to your side of the fight.

by Julia Griffin

For Tam

(After Gilbert and Sullivan)

“A would-be burglar in Rome… became distracted after picking up a book about Homer’s Iliad on a bedside table. 
… News of the failed burglary attracted the attention of the book’s author, who told local media he wanted
to send the man a copy so he could ‘finish’ his read. … Mr Nucci [the author] said his personal favourite deity was
Hermes, the god of thieves.”
—BBC News

When a burglar’s duly mindful of his calling
(Of his calling),
When a robber has some pride in his employ
(His employ),
He—or she—should shun all writing that’s enthralling
(That’s enthralling),
Like anything about the War in Troy
(War in Troy).
If “delinquent”’s not to be a mere misnomer
(Mere misnomer),
If “thief” means more than “amateur in crime,”
(-Teur in crime),
Then a sit-down in a stranger’s house with Homer
(House with Homer)
Is not a thing for which there’s any time.
O!
If you had to break a window to get in
(To get in),
That’s not the place to learn if Greece will win
(Greece will win).

When an author’s done with Paris and with Helen
(And with Helen),
When a writer needs a break from mighty Zeus
(Mighty Zeus),
He (or she) may feel some fondness for a felon
(For a felon),
A tendency for which there’s no excuse
(No excuse).
But writers get so little chance to wallow
(Chance to wallow)
In fanship that required no teacher’s prod
(Teacher’s prod),
And though they enjoy the blessings of Apollo
(Of Apollo)
The thieves have got great Hermes as their god.
O!
Though a term of immuration should be had
(Should be had),
Let’s hope the lock-up stocks The Iliad
(Iliad).

by Steven Urquhart Bell

“Britain’s theme parks are more fun in the rain, claims boss”
—The Telegraph

If watching people slip on greasy walkways
And break a leg or fall beneath a car
Or lose an eye to metal-tipped umbrellas
Convulses you with mirth, I guess they are.

by Alex Steelsmith

“[Many bat] biologists… have the zeal of converts, who at some point turned from other mammals
to find a wonderland of scientific mysteries, like bats’ impossibly acrobatic flight… [Bats are]
the only mammals that fly.”
—National Geographic

Flittering, fluttering
agile mammalians
somehow, incredibly,
dance in the sky.

Scientists studying
microchiroptera
gaze in amazement when
acro-bats fly.

by Ruth S. Baker

“US schools employ gun-sniffing dogs to curb violence—and bring students joy …
[D]ogs become ‘popular’ safety measure that also has emotional benefits”
—The Guardian

“Popular,” in quotation marks? Perhaps
For fear of finding something simply good
In this—allowing standards to collapse
Till we forget that actually we could
Have something still more popular: safe schools;
But, since we won’t, let’s welcome in the dogs,
Trained and assigned as violence-curbing tools,
Displayed, snouts lifted, in brochures and blogs,
Ready to sniff out guns, and more: the smell
Of panic, of confusion. Children crowd
Around, surprised by eyes of caramel,
Long ears for things that can’t be voiced aloud,
Backs to be stroked, the friendliest of barks:
Bringers of joy (not in quotation marks).