A SUMMER HAIKU FOR MY MOM

To use a poetic form that is best suited for one language to compose a poem in another is always touch-and-go. And haiku is one such form. I think this works better as two lines rather than three.

I wrote this in August of 2005 after seeing a small kite hung up on power lines and remembering how when I was a child, my mom and I entangled a kite on nearby power lines. I remember looking at my mom mortified and saying: “Wait ’till dad sees this.” My dad was not amused.

for my mom
Summer-colored kite and a boy’s hot tears
Hung up with high-tension lines.

©2005 Kent Gutschke.  All rights reserved..

THE THANG: A SCI-FI LULLABY

May 26, 2017.

In a brittle issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction from November 1952, I stumbled across a short story entitled “Bem” by sci-fi author Charles T. Webb. His story so amused me that I decided to write my own using “Bem” as one inspiration and the 1897 UFO crash in Aurora, Texas as another. And without my knowing it, my prose fell into rhythm with rhymes and near rhymes, and to my amazement, I had the first two stanzas of a poem.

Any fans of sci-writer Henry Kuttner will see that I also took inspiration from his Galloway Gallagher story entitled “The World Is Mine” first published in Astounding Stories in June 1943 under the pseudonym Lewis Padgett.

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NEWS FLASH: MARS ATTACKS WITHOUT REASON

It is an Associated Press dispatch, describing a universal nightmare.   —The Critic April 23, 1898

June 25, 2012.

After two unsatisfying productions, one produced by George Pal in 1953 and another directed by Steven Spielberg in 2005, it is obvious that Hollywood – from its producers and directors down to its writers and its gaffers – does not understand H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds (1898).  Both Pal and Spielberg modernize the story and by doing so, doom both films before the end of their opening credits. Like the Martians, who did not survive leaving their native soil, The War of the Worlds does not survive modernization without cheapening it, turning it into yet another clichéd invasion film with its sole distinction being H. G. Wells’ name on its credits. Continue reading