John Chmura
LightNews LightNews
banner
johnchmura.bsky.social
John Chmura
@johnchmura.bsky.social
660 followers 500 following 4.1K posts
Pine Barrens Poet
Posts Replies Media Videos
johnchmura.bsky.social
Received issue #82 of Presence haiku journal. So psyched to have a # haiku in this fantastic journal.
November 24, 2025 at 6:48 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
I don’t usually post #PoemsAbout @thebrokenspine.co.uk this early, but I’m taking some antihistamines and may sleep through a good portion of the night, or not. Will post a reel for #DogTags in the comments.
DOG TAGS Send them into space, all of the dog tags and toe tags, Trumps’ three Purple Hearts, and the mindset of men who pay dear and trade cheap that the God who abandoned this sorry blue world might see the joylessness of man’s desiring and act as a “signpost up ahead” so benevolent passengers may be forewarned drifting near our debris field on their judicious excursions coming from and returning to, hopefully, better planets smelling of ginger melon balls and mint, where space travel was a glorious culmination, not an escape or an escapade, where they needn’t keep people like me as pets or souvenirs anymore.
November 21, 2025 at 5:45 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
Congratulations to the great poets in this issue, notably @moritherapy.bsky.social and #poemsabout regular @owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social. My #haiku were not picked but I’ll share them anyway just for fun:

out breath
chuffing fog
after the chase

snow field
the silent
narrative
November 15, 2025 at 5:36 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
@poetry-with-hart.bsky.social, are you going to put your haiku back up?
November 14, 2025 at 6:52 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #Desire
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
I will post a reading in the comments.
DESIRE, OF A MID-MORNING DRIVE Stormy the morning after a fretful evening, in the front yard warming up the Avalanche, got to pay a bill overdue in town. Several miles down the county road needled branches litter and deer on the shoulder dead, tolling the vulture’s dinner bell. Caffeine or the sugar kick in like a post-mortem spasm. I feel the face of desire wizen, a snarl I savor, broth of bone on canines and missing molars. Crossing the double line eyes closed pegging the needle. The engine pings. Idiot sensors scream.
November 14, 2025 at 6:16 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
once there was honor among thieves
then there was #Disney
November 11, 2025 at 7:44 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
Check out this review and new book by @merrildsmith.bsky.social
#poetry #new
November 11, 2025 at 12:31 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#Poetry #Acceptance
OMG, I submitted some poetry at around three o’clock yesterday afternoon and got an acceptance email at around six this morning!!! I am so psyched!!! Walking on air today!
November 9, 2025 at 4:11 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #LockedDoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
Let’s get some comments going on this exceptional poem by @rock-rex.bsky.social
November 8, 2025 at 5:17 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PormsAbout #LockedDoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

I’m six or more hours backlogged in the posts, yet must say…I graduated from a major university forty plus years ago, but I find myself studying more poetry and writing a semester’s worth of analysis each Friday with this lovely group of poets.
November 7, 2025 at 7:20 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #LockedDoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
I will put a reel in the comments, or I won’t.
LOCKED DOORS I’ve learned or been reluctantly convinced to trust the math so if Monty Hall may he rest in peace resurrected his game show host self and showed me Schrödinger’s pussy or a goat behind door number two I would switch my choice but I wouldn’t like it. I want bigger balls to fall faster, I want Columbus to land in India, I want eels born from mud, I want my wife to have less teeth than me, I want ice smaller than water, and I want 77 million Americans to be and to vote smarter, but they ain’t and they’re maybe never gonna.
November 7, 2025 at 7:00 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#haiku #meteor #ufo
meteor flash
little deer startles
mama chews tasty grass

The meteor or ufo is in the upper right corner just before the little one jumps.
November 6, 2025 at 4:47 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
This is an awesome interview. It’s a rare talent to be able to write well for both younger and older audiences. I get the idea that a big part of it is treating children with respect.
rburrows.bsky.social Rachel Burrows @rburrows.bsky.social · 24d
Dear #PoemsAbout #PromptCombo and poetry friends - you normally see my adult poetry on Bluesky. If you would like to find out more about my children’s stuff, please check this out! 😊 #kidlituk #kidlit #writingforchildren Thanks @littlethoughtspress.com #interview
rburrows.bsky.social Rachel Burrows @rburrows.bsky.social · 25d
Thank you so much @littlethoughtspress.com for my interview! I have loved being part of the LTP experience! #poetry #poetryforkids #poetryforchildren www.littlethoughtspress.com/post/intervi...
November 1, 2025 at 5:36 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
This is what they mean by performing poetry!!! Look, even if you don’t have the whole nine minutes, at least take a dip into this tour de force.
frankhudson.bsky.social Frank Hudson @frankhudson.bsky.social · 25d
#PoemsAbout #Blood @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk Few click links, & in this case that may be for the best—this remains the most disturbing musical piece in the 10 years of my Parlando Project & the 9 minutes of music that Walt Whitman & a modern account are set to is unpleasant.
The Blood of Strangers
As we go forward, following Leonard Cohen’s suggestion “Let Us Compare Mythologies,” I’m going to take you to another very dark place. If Siegfried Sassoon was hesitant to publish the last piece Ch…
frankhudson.org
October 31, 2025 at 7:31 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #Blood
Laura is not cheating!!!
lozzawriting.bsky.social Laura Cooney *Motherbunnet* on sale @lozzawriting.bsky.social · 25d
Slightly cheating today as this has been published before but there's a poem for #blood and @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk

I'll pop back in later for sharing and reading.
October 31, 2025 at 7:04 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #Blood
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
I will put a reading in the comments.
BLOOD Peel away the shirtless blazer. Blood rings on the body left like coffee table stains hidden by wine glass stems in chic hotel rooms booked with stolen identities on cloned cell phones. Worthless spillage. It could have saved the life of a flatliner dead on arrival in the defunded ER’s frantic triage where holely hearts beat faster than hummingbird wings. I don’t care. No excuses no rhymes no muses. The painless pleasure beyond sense and serenity. I am the Everest the green koflach.
October 31, 2025 at 5:58 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
Did you see the Trump FAA’s new anti-woke air safety instructions and the guidelines to disable masks for anyone who won’t sign a loyalty pledge?
October 28, 2025 at 6:04 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
October 28, 2025 at 5:57 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
My guess is they misread Wole as Woke.

www.reuters.com/world/us/nig...
www.reuters.com
October 28, 2025 at 5:20 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
Children’s masks then and now…
October 28, 2025 at 5:04 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
www.npr.org/2025/10/27/n...
Jack DeJohnette, dynamic and instantly recognizable jazz drummer, dies at 83
Jack DeJohnette, of the most daring and singular jazz drummers of the last 60 years, died on Sunday.
www.npr.org
October 27, 2025 at 4:26 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
no antitrust
litigation
just deer running

#haiku #haikusaturday
October 25, 2025 at 7:09 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #BurnForTheCamera
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
Due to the numbet of quotes, I might consider this a found poem. I will put a link to the video/commentary in the comments.
DOUBLE EXPOSURE PURE LAND BURNING MAN Saigon, June 11, 1963 I just kept shooting and shooting and shooting. And that protected me from the horror of the thing. The only reporter with a camera. Is lucky the best word for that? You don’t have to die in order to go into the Kingdom of God. In fact, you have to be alive to do so. Not by far the only death by fire in that land, but one of few to light their own match. The smell of the burning flesh, the expression of anguish. He never cried out. How many who on orders or impulse incinerated farms and families burned from within and still do? Eventually, of course, he just, he flopped over and twitched a few times and that was it. Fun fact, I was only one. Years later I found the dying monk in an old Life magazine. THIS SORT OF THING HAS GOT TO STOP Dallas, November 22, 1963 The first Catholic President, on seeing the burning Buddhist in the daily paper, blurted, “Jesus Christ!” to the AG, his brother. Hopped up on shots from Dr. Feelgood, most days. The wounds of another war. Would mindful meditation have helped him? You certainly can’t say that the people of Dallas haven’t given you a nice welcome. No, you certainly can’t. Whoa, Nellie, if it weren’t so tragic you could read it in Stan and Ollie’s voices. Pubescent boys are doubly aroused by a woman sprawled on a Lincoln gathering fragments of skull. Her pink suit has never been washed. The blood and brains. Regrets wiping her face. I want them to see what they have done.
October 24, 2025 at 6:13 AM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #BreakTheMould
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
After reading Frank’s transcription of his late wife’s poem, you MUST follow the link to the audio. Frank’s music and reading are 💯
frankhudson.bsky.social Frank Hudson @frankhudson.bsky.social · Oct 17
#PoemsAbout #BreakTheMould I know most folks post new work of their own, but here's a 50-year-old poem written by my late wife Renée Robbins in her youth that I just rediscovered this Fall. Link to my fresh performance of it here: frankhudson.org/2025/10/14/i...
In Another Language By Renée Robbins, circa 1975-77 Crab in snowbank – plastic waves tattered claws – residue of an earlier life I call my own now left by the road. Where could I free you in this land of demarcated fluid and ice? A bathtub lacks salt, but I drift there as if a wind blew another flood to wipe out contracts and families nations and genders a Finno-Ugaric world with one word for both sexes one mind for the self and those I love and ten claws to speed into buoyant lift.
October 17, 2025 at 3:19 PM
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #BreakTheMould
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
Depending on what the app allows, I will either put a reel or a link in the comments for the 🎤…
MASTER CLASS Not just the sinister misopedist who said a fib would turn my tongue black but every teacher I ever had lied as if their pull string plastic voice boxes were preloaded with platitudes like no one is above the law and what can you do for your country when they were pried from their molds at the same industrial complex as red lights and stop signs melting pots and voting booth curtains Chatty Cathy’s who whined “I hurt myself” instead of shouting “stop hurting me” and G.I. Joes who yelled “throw the grenade” but left unspoken “at the children.” All, except the sadistic Sister Misery who preferred to have a second grader pee the carpet rather than use the rest room before the end of the pledge of allegiance and then sent her to the office to call home for fresh undies and socks and detained me for crossing an imaginary border on the playground no one ever before judged illegal because she could, and Mr. Myopia the jaded eighth grade geography teacher to use the title lightly who never taught a single fact or feature while clock-watching on his lazy ass as we read the text book on our own and Sharpied a blood red X over three problems I got right on a test but wouldn’t change my grade because he didn’t make mistakes. Knowing what I know now I should have been studying them more than the snowflakes and fakers who softly peddled esoteric aspirations like science and art and fairness and made us cower in the basement lined up on our knees chins tucked to our chests heads against lead painted walls waiting for imaginary incineration from the other side of the earth unaware only forty miles north a slumlord’s son with bone spurs and shoe lifts was being groomed for this moment to liberate the freedoms we freely relinquish.
October 17, 2025 at 6:18 AM