Sunday, February 18, 2018

My Forever Home--By Blanca Alicia Garza--United States

My Forever Home    

In your eyes I saw the sunset;
I saw the full Moon rising high.
I see a love that will never end
through the twilight of our lives.
I see us waltz lovingly every day
carefree, innocent and beloved.
Move with an enchanting grace
fear none of the evil displayed.
Drift away into sweetest dreams
enjoy your journey without harm.
Hold my hand and kiss my lips
at sunrise, dreams will be gone.
In your eyes I saw the answer to 
my prayers from the one above.
In your eyes I found the peace 
I was looking for, in your eyes
I found my forever home.

(Previously published in Indiana Voice Journal)

Blanca Alicia Garza is a Poet from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover. Her poems are published in several Anthologies and can be found in many venues. such as The Poet Community, Whispersl, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Raven's Cage Ezine and Scarlet Leaf Review.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Special Feature--“Why Whispers Matters?”--By Inge Wesdijk (Daginne Aignend)--The Netherlands and Jack Horne--England

“Why Whispers Matters?”

--First of all, we think Whispers matters because Whispers is a platform where people around the world are united by the love of words in a supportive and friendly way.

--Reading and sharing poetry, commenting on each other's work without negativity.

--Encouragement for every poet's unique way of writing.

--Creed, color, age, gender doesn't matter, anyone who loves the world of words can join us.

--Respect for each other, Whispers is a journal who doesn't accept writing about profanity, erotica, violence or other derogatory themes

That being said, we would like to invite you, contributors and readers, to share thoughts and opinions why Whispers matters to you.

Best wishes,
Inge and Jack

(Please share your thoughts in the comments section below.  Thank you to all the writers and readers that have made Whispers possible.)

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

The Transitory World--By Dr. T. Ashok Chakravarthy--India

The Transitory World

The childhood days, vanish in no time
The fondling love and school days wane;
People and unfolding world look so fine
Surging age finds no time to recline.

When adolescence knocks the door of heart
The colorful and alluring thoughts fly out,
Thirsting for love, desires flock out of blue
Life looks sailing smooth, without future clue.

Unaware, while the fleeting age advances
And reality slowly unfolds life’s fragrances,
Realization seems very doubtful and difficult,
And the element of morality slips out of sight.

Old age, when befalls on trembling life
The transitory world looks ‘a lake of grief’
Frightful, true colors of life unfold to sight
Life fizzles out, betwixt the fading light.

Dr. T. Ashok Chakravarthy is an Indian poet promoting universal peace, protection of environment and children rights through poetry. His six poetry volumes received wide acclaim across the world.  He’s conferred with four doctorates, commended with several prestigious titles vice Universal Peace Ambassador, International Intellectual Peace Award, Asian Who’s Who, Effulgent Star etc.

Eternal Life--By Barbara Siekierski--United States

Eternal Life

Heaven is a beautiful place.
The gates of paradise opened
and allowed me to come in.
Free from pain, sorrow and tears,
I walk in His garden, enjoying
the fruit of life, my soul resting
forever in God’s arms.

Barbara Siekierski is a 64-year-old widow with a son that has autism. He goes to a day program for disabled adults 5 days a week. He lives with her the rest of the time.

Monday, February 12, 2018

Thoughts--By Eleanor Michael--United States

Thoughts

One morning, I fell to musing
about “how time flies.”
That brought to mind the way
I say two a’clock
instead of two O’clock.
Who knows how far back that goes?
Now, digital’s glowing numbers
throw me, as I still think
and say quarter 'til
or quarter past. When half
the hour is gone, half-past.
To choose a way I can describe
this state of mind, I simply say
out of date. Where does the time go?
I don’t know.

Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.

Michigan Mornings--By Jagari Mukherjee--India

Michigan Mornings

When I sweep the driveway
Each dawn, gathering the
Lime-green and soft-golden leaves
Hand-stitched by God, my memory
Sweeps me away to a few months ago
To cold Michigan mornings;
My sister and I sat on the balcony
On the cushioned swing, sipping
Hot tea and wearing zippered purple jackets
Looking at the tall sugar maple tree with
Powder-pink leaves, and the ground
Strewn with more rosy blossoms –
The lazy sun emerges late, starting
With a pink beam against the
Purple-black sky – then a pale violet hue
Spreads like a clock’s hands;
Finally, a translucent golden sky.

We drink more cups of tea to keep us warm
Till the end of the morning show.

Jagari Mukherjee is a bilingual poet from Kolkata, India. Her writings have appeared in several newspapers, magazines, anthologies, webzines, and blogs. Her first book, a collection of poems entitled Blue Rose, was published in May 2017.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By ayaz daryl nielsen and Peggy Dugan French--United States

wrapped in warmth

By ayaz daryl nielsen and Peggy Dugan French

walking barefoot on green grass
my mind drifts back to my childhood
a melodious voice from the past
rises up to greet me
singing from within love
I am wrapped in warmth
yesterday, this day and tomorrow...

Quiet Hero--By Jack Horne--England

Quiet Hero

You didn't fight on battlefields;
no medals on your chest;
you were not famous, were not great,
not thought of as the best.

As heroes did their daring deeds,
you didn't make the news;
but now a man, I understand
how things were in your shoes.

I try to be the man you were:
no saint but never bad.
The day you died I realised
you were my hero, Dad.

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.

Dream--By Sushminder jeet Kaur--India

Dream

I had a dream last night. Behold!
The aura was pious, light encompassed me
I became illumined and enlightened,
He rose from His Throne, hugged me
And took me along, 
It was all pure white.
I became Him and He became me

An Associate Professor in the subject of English Literature, Sushminder jeet Kaur is fond of writing poetry and short stories.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

peaceful--By Lois Greene Stone--United States

peaceful

When prone,
on warm grass,
with eyelids pressed,
I feel contented.
I hear the birds.
Their sounds awaken
the still air.
I enjoy the music.

Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies.  Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.

My mobile phone--By Annie Jenkin--England

My mobile phone 

has found a new home,
now it nestles in the kelp
with its shy neighbours
starfish and hermit crab
who peek a look.
Too much Sangria
has addled my brain,
stumbling over pebbles
and sun-bleached bones,
I walk back to the sea
to listen to the message
a fish has saved for me. 

Annie Jenkin  lives in Plymouth, England. Having not written poetry for many years, Annie has returned to poetry writing with enthusiasm. Her writing explores several subject areas that are insightful, humorous but can also be sensitive.

Friday, February 9, 2018

Transcience--By Gert W. Knop--Germany

Transcience

The day,
a house of cards of events
and circumstances.
Branches ramify in the thicket
of a silent morning
like an evening fog.
Reality gives way
to an uncertain future.
Snow, 
now dies away in the rain.
At the banks, 
the river circulates its rounds.
Little, sad waves
reflecting tranquility

Gert W. Knop was born in 1943, studied arts and tropical agriculture and is now living in Zittau, Germany. He writes poetry and short stories in German, English and Spanish.

The Outlaw and the Innocent--By Scott Thomas Outlar--United States

The Outlaw and the Innocent

She stole my heart with one bat of her eyes
one beat from her chest
one breath from her lungs
one song from her lips

Leather jacket outlaw
foxy lady sweet style
smoking with the lights low
burning with the radio
standing on the pedestal
goddess rising with the sound

She changed my world with two taps of her shoes
two steps of her groove
two smiles on her face
two gifts of her grace

Whispering my innocence
dancing in the rain drops
warm beneath the blankets
cuddling with cocoon dreams
blessing as the records spin
holding fast to a future fate

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live events, and books can be found. Scott was a recent recipient of the 2017 Setu Magazine Award for Excellence in the field of literature.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

We don't give up on our dreams--By Blessed Ayeyame--Nigeria

We don't give up on our dreams

I know of dreams walking
side by side with flames,
from the morning of their conception
striving hard to build homes
for healing of sick needs 
to turn mountains of pain.
I know of boys burrowing into
the deepness of their dreams
to unearth streams of hope
for their drooping hearts.
I know a man in his twilight
who has waited fruitlessly for
a spark at the opposite end of
a long dark tunnel, and his
hopes turned into mournful tales;
but when we hear him say:
'dreams are not meant for us'
we fold our thoughts into flames,
into a heavy fist of stubbornness, saying
'we don't give-up on our dreams'.

(note: it's his first online publication)

Blessed Ayeyame is a Nigerian who is fascinated by the written word and writes to partake of this fascinating experience.

Blackbird--By Joanne Olivieri, United States

Blackbird

He teeters softly
balancing unconscious
upon fog dampened phone lines.
Feathers his garment,
he awakens to windswept mist
and shattered street scenes below.
Emerging from his protective quarters
inside himself, he spreads his wings
and surveys concrete organisms
below his perch where the cumulus
provide a warm, safe haven.
He flutters haphazardly on broken
streets surrounded by industrial obesity
in search of discarded
morsels to satisfy his hunger.
Innocuous in his size he is not noticed and
therefore not seen, though rises above it all
naturally gifted
with wings of freedom.

(first published Stanzaic Stylings)

Joanne Olivieri is a San Francisco native.  She is a published poet and photographer. Her poems are published in numerous magazines and ezines. Her poem, "Symphony of Lights", was chosen as one of the Entries in the initial round of the Cathay Pacific Airways - 100 Reasons We Love Hong Kong contest, July 2007-. She won a round-trip ticket to Hong Kong for her winning entry.  

Insights--By Jack Waller--Canada

Insights

A moment shared, a gift revealed,
Words cannot express how I feel.
Profound, pervasive, deep within, 
Released, removed from the world's din
Our souls unite.
The spoken word, the gift of song.
It was not ere long
The eye was dimmed by tears.
Which, you ensured me I need not fear.
Enriched, empowered by kindred words
Onward I press toward that goal
Where time and humanity recede,
and manna's found to meet our need.

Jack Waller is a 79 years old resident of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. He has a Diploma in Theology from The Atlantic School of Theology. Jack has a deep faith and spirituality.

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

If My Tears were Ink--By Gerald Heyder--United States

If My Tears were Ink

I pen with black ink
but I lack feeling
of heart and soul.
I may as well write
with a piece of coal.
I’m so depressed for
I’m not in the pink,
my emotions shredding
as my heart starts to shrink.
Maybe my words
would come alive
if I were to strive
in another form?
Perhaps it’s possible
I could achieve it
if I truly believe it
if my tears were ink;
my misty eyes
are making me think.

Gerald Heyder loves to write as well as draw cartoons. He also enjoys vintage movies, TV shows and oldies music.  He once served a hitch in the military. His favorite subject is history. “That’s it!”

Spot of Hope--By Richard Sponaugle--United States

Spot of Hope

Drought and fire
scorch the parched earth.
Cyclonic rains
flood inland towns.
Polar extremes
that border each
other and have
destruction and
death in common.
But somewhere there’s
a spot of hope;
a fault line in
reverse where the
two extremes meet,
and rain rolls down
saturated
ground to douse the
fiery terrain.
Someday I’ll find
my spot of hope.

A prolific poet and songwriter, Richard Sponaugle has been published (and rejected.)  He was born on April 20, 1960 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia.  He has a BA from George Mason University.  He has worked many years as a postal clerk in Alexandria, Virginia.

Monday, February 5, 2018

In Memory--Praise from God--By Evelyn Splane (September 7, 1930-January 6, 2018)--Canada

(From your editor—It is with sadness I share with you that Evelyn Splane has passed on. Evelyn shared her poetry for Whispers with the help of her sister, Helen Dowd.  Now, she can rest in peace in the arms of God.)

Praise from God

(I Corinthians 4:5 "Therefore
 judge nothing before the time…)

Some day before the Judge we'll stand,
While Record Books are in His hand.
Nothing from His eye is hid,
Of all the things on earth we did.

The things we did for praise from men
For these there's no reward again,
But other deeds in secret hid,
These for the Lord alone we did.

We work; we pray; we give; we go,
That others too His love may know.
Of things done here upon the earth,
These are the deeds of greatest worth.

God knows the labour and the tears,
The faithful work of many years,
He'll say "Well done" and give us praise
We'll see the smile upon His face.

At her own expense, Evelyn Splane traveled many times back and forth from Canada, her homeland, to India for the fifty years she was an active missionary.  She lived in a modest, one-bedroom suite in the basement of a church, in Toronto. In April of 2006, due to her advancing age, and deteriorating health, she moved west to live with her sister and brother-in-law, Hart and Helen Dowd.  In recent years her health did not permit traveling to her adopted land of India. However, she generously gave of her meager income to help others go. If you want to read more of Evelyn’s writing, please see--

Choice--By Judy Shepps Battle--United States

Choice

Beyond the cave
sunlight blinds
noise deafens

fear cautions
I hesitate

spirit insists
come out

stand free
be proud

move forward
(even an inch)

or die.

Judy Shepps Battle has been writing essays and poems long before retiring from being a
psychotherapist and sociology professor. She is a New Jersey, USA resident, addictions
specialist, consultant and freelance writer. Her poems have been accepted in a variety of
publications.

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Silver Lake, Ocracoke--By Ann Christine Tabaka--United States

Silver Lake, Ocracoke

Long fingers of night reach out for
evening, embracing her with soft
velvet arms. Quietude is her
name, she lives for this moment.

Diamonds dance across the surface
of the water. Rhythmic waves lap at
a gray pebbly beach, as the last rays
of sun are swallowed by the horizon.

Anchored boats with white sails,
now merely ghosts against a wine
colored sky. Far off, cries of marsh
bound shorebirds fade with the light.

A space between reality and dream,
filled with enchantment.  The cosmos
sings to romance. A curtain call for the
moon. As lovers walk off hand in hand.

*   Published by the Academy of the Heart and Mind, November 2017
*   Published by Ariel Chart, November 2017

Ann Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware. She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer. She loves gardening, cooking, and the ocean. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her poems have been published in numerous national and international poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies.

Keeping Afloat--By Eddie Awusi--Nigeria

Keeping Afloat

If your nation is a sinking boat,
Do not dismiss her as a failure,
Packing your bags and baggage,
Ditching her for another's glory.
Be within her fold, and plan for a rescue,
Take upon yourself, duties of chivalry,
Nurture her for a better berthing.
In nation building,
Be her life jacket.
Else, you become a nonentity,
In another man's land.

Eddie Awusi is a Nigerian by birth. He is a graduate of English literature. He writes the inspiration of the muses. He favours Pop music and blues. His works has appeared in Dandelion In A Vase Of Roses and other anthologies. He has also been published in numerous poetry magazines.

Friday, February 2, 2018

our summer love song--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

our summer love song

those certain 
singing days be-
ginning to end. . . 
perhaps a bit
off-key, at times, 
yet, still singing 
our summer song

——

run around all day
intertwined with poetry
you and I, yes, us

——

I am 
because 
these words exist

—— 

atmosphere
inflated by the 
wings of birds

ayaz daryl nielsen, veteran, hospice nurse, ex-roughneck (as on oil rigs) lives 
in Longmont, Colorado, USA.  Editor of bear creek haiku (30+ years/140+ issues) 
with poetry published worldwide (and deeply appreciated), he also is online at:   https://bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com

God's Whisper--By Haminia Haar--Romania

God's Whisper

Early in the morning
Or late at night
God whispers prayers
To our souls.

Prayers we must know
For our Happiness and Good understanding,
Words to save our Life
For the Peace of Paradise!

We must pray The Symphony of Heavens,
"Our Lord, give us our daily bread."
We must pray for our Mother Earth,
For the breeze of the seas and Love!

Haminia Haar is born in Romania, Europe, she loves reading, writing and music.
She believes in God, He is her inspiration. She started to write poetry in English five years ago and published five books with love poems. Encouraged by her readers she participated in some international literary contests, her poetry was much appreciated.

A New Year’s Visit to the Oregon Coast--By Jake Cosmos Aller--United States

A New Year’s Visit to the Oregon Coast

On the last day of 2017
We drove to Bookings on the Oregon Coast
A pleasant drive through the mystic fog-shrouded Redwoods
Gathered gloom of the dark woods foretold my dismal mood

Slept soundly to the sound of the ocean
The super moonlight filled the
beach outside our window
with an eerie light all night long

As we slept people walked the beach
Enjoying the full moon
And the unusually warm weather
Setting off fireworks at midnight

In the morning I went for a nice walk along the beach
thought about the year that was
As the waves pounded the shore

The peaceful ocean waves
Reminded me the end of my life
is coming closer to my door

(first published by former People)

Jake Cosmos Aller grew up in Berkeley, California during the 70's, served in the Peace Corps in Korea then taught ESL, Government, and Asian studies before and after doing graduate work in Seattle.  He JOINED THE U.S. FOREIGN SERVICE, serving 27 years in ten countries.  He's a full-time writer since his retirement - many poems and stories are published.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

FEBRUARY ACTIVITY FEATURE INVITATION

From--Activity Feature Editor—Jack Horne
Email Address-- jack-marcus@outlook.com

Dear Whispers' Friends,

As we start this new year, our Whispers’ team is looking forward to offering a wide variety of Activity Poem Invitations that we hope you will enjoy.  Our second poem opportunity for the new year is…

TOPIC—Dedication

Thoughts from Editor Karen O’Leary to ponder about—With the entitlement age mentality and the acceptance of violence captured for YouTube videos and television replaying horrific events, not just reporting but sensationalizing them with “Breaking News!” The same clips show from hour to hour, sometime day to day.  Though press reporting is different from poetry; it is a form of writing.

Here is your chance to weigh in on those that are dedicated to jobs, their families, principals etc.and present another side of life--our everyday heroes one example of an approach.
           
OUTCOMES—

  1. To share a side of ethics and hard work, spreading the light of optimism
  2. Present poetry with depth and insight to share with an international audience
CHALLENGE—

To present poetry that is relevant for a global community.

Please submit 1 poem, 10 lines or less.  Please send your submissions to Jack Horne at jack-marcus@outlook.com

Please use the following format:

Title (if one)
Space
Poem
Space
Author’s name, country

________________ (Please use a line between poems if you are submitting more than one.)

We will not publish bios with activity poems.

DEADLINE: January 20                            

It is a gift to have Jack as our Activity Feature editor, sharing his editorial talents and willingness devote time to Whispers for activity submissions.  He is a joy to work with.

Blessings,

Karen O'Leary
Whispers' Editor

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Editor's Appreciation/The Beacon--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Dear Writing Friends,

I appreciate all those who have opened the pages of Whispers this month.  Each poem submitted, each page view, and each encouraging comment broaden our horizons.  Writing is about communicating ideas…such an honor to share contributors’ poetry with you. 

What a joy to work with Jack Horne from England and Inge Wesdijk (Daginne Aignend) from The Netherlands!  We blend together sharing ideas.  If you have some suggestions, please contact me at karenoleary1956@gmail.com

We celebrate 12 new writers this month—

                                    L.Shapley Bassen, United States
                                    Linda Imbler—United States
                                    Vivian Wagner—United States      
                                    Ellen Huang, United States
                                    Jack M. Freedman—United States
                                    Justine Johnston Hemmestad—United States
                                    Swapan Kumar Rakshit—India       
                                    Jessica Swafford—United States
                                    Robert Filos—United States
                                    James Dean Chase, United States
                                    Alicja Maria Kuberska, Poland (New Country)
                                    Sravani singampalli, India

Please stop by and congratulate our new poets and welcome them to Whispers.  Thank you to each and every one that has shared the gift of words for Whispers this month.

In closing, I would like to share my poem accepted by Inge Wesdijk (Daginne Aignend) for an individual poem to be published—

The Beacon

one
heart
thoughtful
and caring
lights up many  lives
                           touched
                           by love
                           share light too…
                           becoming beacons

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND.  She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, Haiku Pix, bear creek haiku, Shemom, Creative Inspirations and NeverEnding Story. Karen is our editor.  She enjoys sharing the gift of words.

Blessings to all of you,
Karen

City I--By Feby Joseph--India

City I

This is the house of metallic and steel sounds
            Of grinding machines rushing on to tomorrow
As the green fields and skies fade fast
            And the sun delays in its path on the morrow.
This dissonant symphony serenading deaf ears
            As truth from its way clears
            Marching steadily to a finale of sorrow

Yet if I smile, it’s only because of you
           That hope lives on, deep within this dark shell.
Your lessons of empathy and kindness
            Causes doubt in the face of gold to dispel
Your promises pull me past all the imminent sorrow –
            I can see on that beautiful morrow
            Butterflies thriving where moths now dwell.

Feby Joseph is a spiritual vagabond still trying to figure it out. He hails from the beautiful South Indian coastal state of Kerala seeped in green and poetry. He's currently working in a desert – counting other’s money while words waltz about in his head.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Beth Winchcombe & Jack Horne--England

Childhood Memories
By Beth Winchcombe & Jack Horne

(In Memory of Beth Wincombe
October 2, 2015)

The aroma of hops
wafting forth as I pass 
the High Street Brewery.

The white suspension bridge
with slatted wooden walkway,
the river flowing beneath,
puts fear in my childlike heart.

Grandparents living nearby
in their cosy cottage,
reflecting an image of quaint shops,
full of candy in jars...
Candy! My mouth salivates;
Granny quells my longing -
she buys me some to take home.
She loves me, I love her.

The nearby park, a square 
cordoned off with swings;
a playground full of happy delight.

I like to ride my red bike
around the pond with no ducks
Dad lets go and I fall off.

Wearing my cousins' castoffs or old clothes 
from jumble sales at the church where Gran works.
New clothes at Christmases or birthdays 
(that I'm not allowed to play in!)

School dinners, their smell instilling dread;
at least a welcome break from lessons.
The crowded playground,
its chatter and laughter carrying far.
I always add to the noise,
but I'd rather be at home with my mum
(although I'm in love with my teacher
and swear I'll marry her some day!)

Ah, so much has changed since then, 
but fond memories stay alive in my heart...

...forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack’s Thoughts—

For many years, Beth & I were close friends. We shared the daily dramas of our lives, laughing & commiserating with one another; and we shared our poetry & prose, offering one another honest feedback. We also enjoyed writing together (quite a few of those pieces have been published). 

Geoff, her husband, phoned one evening to me to tell me the awful news.  Beth had died that day. It was all so sudden. I had spoken to her the day before, as normal.  

With Karen's encouragement & Geoff's blessing, I decided to write with Beth one last time. Geoff chose a poem that Beth had written, & I have written & added my part to her words. I believe Beth would have liked this. 

Broken--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

Broken

She lies still, her body frozen
in a nightmare that repeats
itself day in and day out; her
breath faint, signs of life are
just pants; wings broken,
unable to fly; hope entangled
in a net woven to inflict fear
and false truth.  Her dreams
crushed under the weight of
mankind’s evil intentions to
satisfy flesh and greed.

Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations.  More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com