Category Archives: short poems

Max Gutmann: Planet of Love

Leave a reply

Venus, our neighbor that lies toward the sun,
    Is a sultry and amorous spot;
The astrologers tell us our passion and fun
   Are engendered right there, where it’s hot.

She’s the brightest of stars yet she’s hidden in cloud,
  So her pull on our psyches is double,
An enticing enigma concealed in her shroud
  And, like all such allurements, big trouble.

To the faithfully married, the word from above
  About passionate partnership stings.
There’s a planet we’re told governs all earthly love,
   And it isn’t the one with the rings.

*****

Max Gutmann writes: “I’m afraid I can’t think of anything interesting to say about ‘Planet of Love,’ which exists to support its punchline. The joke popped into my mind, so I wrote the poem.”

‘Planet of Love’ was published in the March 2025 issue of Lighten Up Online.

Max Gutmann has contributed to New Statesman, Able Muse, Cricket, and other publications. His plays have appeared throughout the U.S. (see maxgutmann.com). His book There Was a Young Girl from Verona sold several copies.

Photo: “Venus” by katmary is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Brooke Clark, ‘Letter from an Unknown Writer’

Leave a reply

We met one night at a book launch,
we drank, we talked, we laughed,
I said, “I’m writing a novel,”
and you said, “Send me a draft.”

So I sent it to your address
hoping a well-placed word
from you would get me started;
I waited, but never heard.

Now you’ve published your latest
and the critics fellate you in print,
it’s a runaway bestseller
and Hollywood’s taken the hint.

I read it myself last weekend
and my entrails turned to stone—
my book, but so badly rewritten
you’d almost made it your own.

*****

Brooke Clark writes: “This two-liner by Martial (Epigrams I.38) is the basis of my poem:
quem recitas meus est, o Fidentine, libellus:
sed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus.
(The book you’re reciting is mine, Fidentinus; but when you recite it badly, it begins to be yours.)
Originally read in Wheelock’s Latin, I think, when I was learning the language, this was one of the first versions of Martial I did that I was happy with. I obviously expanded it greatly (I hadn’t learned to appreciate Martial’s concision) but I liked the swingy rhythm and the treatment of it as a mini-narrative that I landed on. Also one of the first epigrams I published, in Light, which gave me some confidence that the project of turning ancient epigrams into contemporary poems might be worth pursuing.”

Brooke Clark is the author of the poetry collection Urbanities and has published work in Arion, Literary Imagination, THINK, The Walrus, LA Review of Books, and other places. He is also the editor of the online epigrams journal The Asses of Parnassus and the book reviews editor at Able Muse.
Twitter: @thatbrookeclark
Bluesky: @brookeclark.bsky.social

Photo: “Treasures of Ushaw Book Launch in Westminster” by Catholic Church (England and Wales) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Short poem: RHL, ‘Brave Crab’

Leave a reply

The little land crab stands right in the road,
Waving his big red claw.
Almost hit by a car rushing past –
Another, then one more.
The little crab stands fearless and alone,
He just won’t back away
And all the other crabs beside the road
Call out “¡Olé! ¡Olé!”

*****

This little poem was recently published in Rue Scribe, “an online journal for small literature”. Thanks, Eric Luthi!

We’re just coming up to the time of year when there are big crabs crawling in the bush (and getting taken by people for food), followed by lots of little crabs crossing the road (and the ones that get hit by cars becoming food for birds).

Photo: “bermuda land crab, blackback land crab, black land crab, common land crab, orange halloweenkrabbe, red land crab, rote landkrabbe, schwarze landkrabbe” by La Mancha en Movimiento is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0.

Short poem: RHL, ‘Flamingo’

2 Replies

As annuals at their lives’ ends flower in beds,
blossom and ripen into yellows and reds
as Earth throws scarlet to the day’s end skies –
so the flamingo trying to fly, pounding along
the surface of the water, pink wings flapping, pink feet slapping,
ungainly straining desperate, then sudden rise,
its work rewarded: scarlet, pink, black, strong,
suddenly graceful, airborne . . . and then gone.

*****

This short poem was recently published in Lighten Up Online after the editor’s careful query “Could I just check that Ls 5 and 6, which seem to have six beats unlike the others, are intentionally reflecting the awkwardness of the flamingo’s take-off?” Indeed, and I’m glad that it came across that way – thanks, Jerome Betts!

The current Lighten Up Online is a particularly good issue, with many poems far superior to my poor struggling flamingo.

“France – Flamingo Landing 04/25/16 Explored” by Benjamin PREYRE Photography is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Weekend read: Aaron Poochigian, ‘Not Atoms’

Leave a reply

When, strolling through the Village, I discover

one lonesome shoe, a jeweled but dogless collar,
the crushed rose of a hitman or a lover,
barf like an offering, a half-burnt dollar,
“Scream” masks holding traffic-light-top vigil,
loose lab rats among the morning glories
or Elmo trapped inside a witch’s sigil,

I love the universe because it’s made of stories.

*****

Aaron Poochigian writes: “I live in the East Village, which is party central, especially on the weekends. The images in this poem are mostly random stuff I saw the mornings after. I didn’t include the people passed out on the sidewalk (just check to make sure they’re still breathing). The structure (one-line beginning, six-line list, one-line ending) came to me from a beautiful Tang-dynasty poem, ‘Visiting the Taoist Priest Chang’, by Liu Changqing.”

Aaron Poochigian’s ‘Not Atoms’ was originally published in New Verse Review. For reference, here is Liu Changqing’s poem in Aaron Poochigian’s translation:

Under the faint trail’s guidance I discover

a footprint in the phosphorescent moss,
a tranquil lake where low clouds love to hover,
a lonesome door relieved by rampant grass,
a pine grown greener since the thundershowers,
a cold springs fed by mountains far away.

Mingling with these truths among the flowers,
I have forgotten what I came to say.

Aaron Poochigian earned a PhD in Classics from the University of Minnesota and an MFA in Poetry from Columbia University. His latest poetry collection, American Divine, the winner of the Richard Wilbur Award, came out in 2021. He has published numerous translations with Penguin Classics and W.W. Norton. His work has appeared in such publications as Best American Poetry, The Paris Review and Poetry.
aaronpoochigian.com
americandivine.net

Photo: “Untitled [Coty] (c.1917) – Amadeu de Souza-Cardoso (1897-1918)” by pedrosimoes7 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Short verse: RHL, ‘The Romance of the Challenge’

Leave a reply

Suggesting,
questing,
testing;
contesting,
besting,
resting.

*****

Humans, in any culture, seem naturally attracted to quests; often to more than one at a time, and contradictory. Maybe the universe is just a playground for questing…

Published this week in The Asses of Parnassus. Thanks, Brooke Clark!

Photo: “”The victorious knight” Berry Brothers hard oil finish vanquishes the field and receives the guerdon of merit. (front)” by Boston Public Library is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Short poem: Richard Fleming, ‘Now’

Leave a reply

The future’s inconceivable.
The past is irretrievable.
So all we have is now: that’s it,
yet half the time we miss that bit.

*****

Richard Fleming writes: “Four short lines, two rhyming couplets, succinct, hopefully not preachy, just something that we need to take to heart and not forget.”

Richard Fleming is an Irish-born poet (and humorist) currently living in Guernsey, a small island midway between Britain and France. His work has appeared in various magazines, most recently Snakeskin, Bewildering Stories, Lighten Up Online, the Taj Mahal Review and the Potcake Chapbook ‘Lost Love’, and has been broadcast on BBC radio. He has performed at several literary festivals and his latest collection of verse, Stone Witness, features the titular poem commissioned by the BBC for National Poetry Day. He writes in various genres and can be found at www.redhandwriter.blogspot.com or Facebook https://www.facebook.com/richard.fleming.92102564/

Photo from Richard Fleming

Short poem: RHL, ‘Home Thoughts from the North’

1 Reply

Dog-skinny, winter’s mangy sun
Slinks between clouds.
A West Indian dog – there are none such here in the UK ….
Nor, there, such mangy suns.

*****

Some people equate a good Christmas with a family walk in the snow, others with family time on a beach. It all depends on what you grow up with, doesn’t it? With my first twelve years being on islands with palm trees, it has remained difficult for me in my decades of climate exile to appreciate more than a month or two of bleaker weather at a time. ‘Home Thoughts from the North’ was originally published in Snakeskin – thanks, George Simmers!

Best wishes for an appropriately weathered Merry Christmas to all… and apologies to Eliza for subjecting her to non-Canadian winters for so many years!

Photo: “Skinny puppy in Udaipur” by Dey is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Unforgettable nonsense: Christopher Isherwood, ‘The Common Cormorant or Shag’

2 Replies

The common cormorant (or shag)
Lays eggs inside a paper bag,
The reason you will see no doubt,
Is to keep the lightning out.
But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed is that herds
Of wandering bears may come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.

*****

There are a couple of anomalies about this poem. First, some people doubt that it is by Christopher Isherwood, because the poem had been circulating anonymously since 1938 but didn’t appear under his name until 1982 in his nonsense-animals collection ‘People One Ought To Know’. But he had actually written the collection as early as 1928, as I gather here. Secondly, cormorants and shags are similar but different birds of the same family, at least in current terminology; however as Wikipedia says, ‘No consistent distinction exists between cormorants and shags. The names “cormorant” and “shag” were originally the common names of the two species of the family found in Great Britain.’ And anyway, it’s a nonsense poem, so who really cares? It is amusing, and easy to memorise because it is in verse.

Illustration: “Common Cormorant from Birds of America (1827) by John James Audubon (1785 – 1851), etched by Robert Havell (1793 – 1878). The original Birds of America is the most expensive printed book in the world and a truly awe-inspiring classic.” by Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Short poem: RHL, ‘Coat’

Leave a reply

Sew, sew, sew your coat
Gently down the seam;
Threadily, threadily, threadily, threadily,
Joseph wants a dream.

*****

A throwaway poem. For anyone unfamiliar with the references, it blends what is often sung as a round:
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream;
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream
with the idea behind the Andrew Lloyd Webber / Tim Rice musical ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat‘.

The poem was published in Lighten Up Online (aka LUPO). Thanks, Jerome Betts!

Photo: “Benjamin School District 25 production of ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat’. March 9th, 2013.” by old06cphotos is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.