Monday, July 25, 2016

the reaper’s curse--By Su'eddie Vershima Agema--Nigeria

the reaper’s curse

how many farewells are enough
to bid those who had it rough
living through time’s toil...
they who now answer the call of the soil?

what metaphors can capture the tiger
that roared from within you devouring evil
that stood across your way even as you would wager
against everything uncivil...?

as these sands slowly sieve through our fingers
pouring over wood that holds stiffer wood
that once held a fire that lingers
in our memory, tributes fall short, pretty but crude

Su'eddie Vershima Agema was joint winner, Association of Nigerian Authors Prize for Poetry 2014 with his second collection, Home Equals Holes: Tale of an Exile. He lives in Nigeria, blogs at and can be reached at @sueddieagema on Twitter.

Navarro Forest--By Greg Gregory--United States

Navarro Forest

The light glows through the canopy of Redwoods.
The light moves, shifts shadows on ferns, on us.
We walk through them to the picnic table.
The small clearing is empty.
The weathered table speaks in cracked initials
Whose life was D.K.'s or J.W.'s?  Why did R.M. love C.L.?
Carvings are meetings, and we have arrived too late.
The ciphers stay locked in their own opaque stories.
They suggest.  They tease.  We imagine.

We hear the invisible river distant, soft in the huge trees.
It flows to the coast.  It flows like time.
Time weathers wood.  It weathers stories.  It always has. 
We will miss them when we’ve left.  The carvings whisper
on the tissue of the wood.  In our summer sandals we are happy,
for a time, under the canopy’s mid-day light.

Greg Gregory is retired, but worked in educational media for over 30 years.  His first love has always been language and the printed word.  He has been published in the US, Canada, and England in publications including California Quarterly, Windsor ReviewPoetry Nottingham, and The Aurorean

Sunday, July 24, 2016

A Rainy Day--By Pam Murray--Canada

A Rainy Day

Beneath the driving rain,
The greenest greens appear
The earth absorbs, the grasses grow,
The sky sheds every tear.

The tears are full of joy
As birth its season brings
And droplets flow in rivulets
As every eaves trough sings.

I sit and contemplate
The water's every sound,
Then take umbrella, coat and boots
And splash upon the ground.

Now, isn't this the way
To greet a rainy day.
As people turn, I laugh and wave,
Inviting them to play.

Born in Calgary, Alberta, Pam Murray has been writing poetry since the mid-1960’s.  She was married for over 41 years and has two daughters, a son-in-law, and a grandson.  Pam has been published in a variety of venues.  Her proudest writing accomplishment was a poem she wrote for a United Way fundraiser, which was later framed with a French translation and hung on the wall of the legislature in Ottawa, Canada.  To her, poetry is a transposition of a vision she sees in her mind. Writing and crocheting are her passions.

The Sacred Body--By Marcus Omer--United States

The Sacred Body

The fount of life reposed within your breast.
It nurtures still the ones whose fathers bled;
who sleep the sleep, unabated blissful rest,
where mysteries of life in truth were read.

The ones of book and breadth would never guess
or look with learned eyes on simple joy
which comes from love submissive, though ageless,
in sacred birth where sin cannot destroy.

From living springs, we sip of timeless bliss,
for passions numbered earthly will depart.
Let creatures humbled share in hallowed kiss
and drink to fill each soul, to cleanse each heart.

      This living spring o’er final death doth reign,
      for long ago a sinless lamb was slain.

Marcus Omer became serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Poetry Moments--By Changming Yuan--United States

Broken Spirits

fluttering like tiny
black feathers, they are shredded
shadows swept away
silently from the bright spot
on the tallest human stage


So heavy is the night
The horizon sags deep, deeper
Into the heart of
The ocean, where a new sun’s
Pushing the whole world above dawn

[Previously published in Epigraph Magazine]

the chinese painter and the viewer

between your brush tip
and mountain top, you seek e-
ternity in the blank
while i am lost among thick
patches of ink blacker than night

[Previously published in Chinese in Singaporean Literature; first published in English in the Adirondack Review]

Changming Yuan, 9-time Pushcart nominee and author of 7 chapbooks, started to learn English at age 19 and published monographs on translation before moving out of China. Currently, Changming edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver, and has poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1209 others across 38 countries.

JUNE 17, 1991--By Jean Calkins--United States

JUNE 17, 1991

I opened a door into the night,
looked upward at the darkened sky
and saw the triad there—
an alignment known as rare—
Mars at the top, extremely shy,
Venus below, then to the right
was Jupiter, so large and bright
it seemed close by
and if I’d try
I might reach up and touch it now
suspended in the warm night air.
The crescent moon
would join them soon.
In my heart, I too, was there,
free as I’d ever be, somehow.
It seemed so right;
was the night.
Jean, at 82, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at    

Friday, July 22, 2016

Doorstep Dilemma--By Jack Horne--England

Doorstep Dilemma

Last night I was close to your house;
it seemed it called to me like an old friend: 
"Won't you pop inside to say hello?"

Once, you would have welcomed me;
your eyes shining, your smile bright,
drawn me in with warm hands and kisses:
no invitation needed.

But now I know you'd freeze;
a small tight smile, arms folded, eyes averted,  
your mind and heart as closed
as you wished the door still was.
You wouldn't ask me in.

I ignore the calls of your house;
it doesn't understand any more than I do
as I walk away...

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.

Along Roads Less Traveled--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States

Along Roads Less Traveled

Oft' I've traveled on interstate highways to reach my final destination,
With white knuckles grasping the steering wheel in great trepidation!
I whiz along at seventy-five and for my safety say a fervent prayer.
'Tis akin to driving the Indy 500, speeding like a bat outta you know where!

I prefer to 'whiz' along at 25 miles per hour on a quaint country road,
Enjoying scenery, sans billboards and such in a more relaxing mode.
I can stop by an eatery for good ol' country vittles run by Mom and Pop,
And browse among other peoples’ trash at my leisure in an antique shop!

I stop by to fill up on gas and happily discover something rather rare;
The man fills the tank, cleans the windshield and checks my tires for air!
Fields of amber grain gently wave at me depicting a scene so bucolic,
And a herd of deer in a yonder copse contentedly graze and frolic.

A farmer waves to me as he tends his field of melons and cantaloupe,
And I'm thrilled to see across the way a magnificent herd of antelope!
I enjoy the witty verse of poets on Burma Shave Signs along the way,
And faded Mail Pouch Tobacco signs on barns filled with scented hay!

At the whim of each vagabond breeze, old windmills turn and creak.
Timbers rumble as I cross a wooden bridge above a rippling creek.
Although my automobile gathers dust along a road that is graveled,
How I relish traveling along quaint country roads that are less traveled!

Robert L. Hinshaw served 30 years in the Air Force retiring in 1978 in the grade of Chief Master Sergeant. He began writing poetry in 2002 at age 72 and has composed over 1100 poems.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

God Made Us All Equal--By Ron Larson--United States

God Made Us All Equal

When I get cut-off on the highway,
I try my very best to understand.
That old boy may have had a rough day.
After all, he's just a common man.

And when I'm standing in the check-out line,
And the sign reads: "Ten items, please,"
This gal's got her basket filled up to the top,
And she's standing there shooting the breeze.

Well, it's been said: "God made us all equal."
But sometimes I wonder if that's true.
If God really made us all equal,
Then equal must equal very few.

Now, it is just my imagination,
Or is everyone just like you and me?
We're all going around in circles,
Trying to keep some sanity.

Ron Larson is a retired community college professor (Ph.D.) and has had both fiction and non-fiction published in various journals over the years. He has been writing poetry for the last two years. His poems have been accepted by such diverse magazines as The American Dissident, Big Pulp, and WestWard Quarterly.

The Eagle--By Dr. Satish Chandra Srivastava--India

The Eagle

I am an Eagle
Easterly early bird
wishing flying freely
& never live in the herd.

I am an Eagle
with powerful hooked bill
for catching my prey easily
or bring down my enemy to kill.

I am an Eagle
like strong soaring flight
higher in the sky so up that
none can see my super delight.

I am an Eagle
having long broader wing
may fly in the air as farther I wish
if hunting requires, I can swiftly swing.

Dr. Satish Chandra Srivastava, a retired manager admin. from a pharmaceuticals company has keen interest in writing poetry since his college life as it is his passion but due to family liabilities, the passion was suppressed by time constrains. Upon his retirement, he devotes his full time to his passion and writing poetry to fulfill his hidden desire. His poems are much appreciated by fellow poets and has a repute honor among fellow poets. His poem "DREAMS" was published in first E-zine anthology by "POETS DREAMS."

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Tanka--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India

from a window to another
these clouds…
how they enter in my room
between you and me

from a jasmine to another
a dewdrop ...
I hold all seven colours
in my palm

Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of 6 books so far, and her winning stories are now part of international anthologies. She writes inspirational content for corporate newsletters, websites, blogs and print publications. Her inspirational poems touch every area of a person's life. She enjoys writing Haiku and Tanka as well. Visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her.

Memories of You--By Tom Davis--United States

Memories of You

Like ancient ghosts,
Haunt the attic of my mind

Burning kindling’s pungent smell
In crisp fall air

Lovers skating
Arm in arm
Across frozen pond

Lazy hum of bumble bee
Foraging nectar
Giving life

Releasing your hand,
I watched you cross that muddy river
And yearned, so, for the other side

Now, I lie and listen
To the night’s
silence call

But I’ll remember you, my love
And all the good times we had

In his younger years, Tom Davis served as a Special Force Combat Diver. It seems to him that he spent more time on, in, and under the water than as a landlubber. This and other adventures he has written about in his memoir, The Most Fun I Ever Had With My Clothes On: A March From Private to Colonel.  

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Summer Night--By Emile Pinet--Canada

Summer Night

A hint of lilac rides on the air,
lending fragrance to the evening breeze.
And a sapphire sky, of flawless blue,
frames the emerald leaves on the trees.

The sun, like a drop of molten gold, 
slowly sinks, into a sea of fire.
And ebony drips, from the darkness,
as the diurnal creatures retire.

The hoot of an owl, pierces the dark,
shattering the silence of the night.
And teal silhouettes, morph into pitch,
as shifting shadows absorb last light.

Yet, the moon rises, at Her own pace,
gracing the night, with Her beaming face.

Emile Pinet was born in a small city, (Bathurst) New Brunswick, Canada, the third eldest of thirteen children, ten girls and three boys. He is the product of a semi-dysfunctional family, brought up by a physically abusive and controlling father, versus a loving, nurturing mother. Many of his poems reflect the uniqueness of nature, which he loves, and his poetic observations of life in general. Emile is 66 years old and has been writing poems since he was about 35. The ideas started to come to him rapidly one day at work-- he decided to write them down and express himself through his poetry. 

Poetry Moments--By Barbara Tate--United States

warning signs
hidden in plain sight
grandpa's keys

tail wind
snowbirds flying south
for the winter

summer storm
ridding myself of baggage
closing argument

cypress trees
the bayou sorcerer
drying tresses

Barbara Tate is an award winning artist and writer, originally from Akron, Ohio, currently residing in Winchester TN.  She is a member of the Haiku Society of America, Gulf Coast Writers Assoc., and United Haiku & Tanka Society.  She has been published in Santa Fe Literary Review, Storyteller Magazine, Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Cattails, The Heron's Nest, Magnolia Quarterly, Bear Creek Haiku, Contemporary Haibun Online, Neverending Story, Failed Haiku & Whispers, among others.  She is currently looking forward to the Sewanee Writers Conference. 

Monday, July 18, 2016

Tanka--By Anne Curran--New Zealand

her laughter
quicker than mine today …
a playful breeze
on our faces
as she pushes her walker

Ribbons journal, April 2015

of papal politics,
tea leaves and dreams ...
I wonder when
the rain will stop

A Hundred Gourds, September 2014

at the art gallery
with an artist friend ...
I am seduced
by her explanation
of light and dark

hedgerow,  #16, 2015

Anne Curran is a Hamiltonian and New Zealander.  She writes in awe and admiration of all those Japanese verse poets and editors who have encouraged her on this journey.

The Pianist’s Fingers--By Marianne Szlyk--United States

The Pianist’s Fingers

Thunder rumbles in the distance
on a cloudy day.
The music teacher tells his child
that God is warming up,
limbering His fingers,
playing His scales
before the concert,
a burst of chords,
irregular rhythm, melody
of rain and wind,
and the light show.
The child no longer fears
or lightning.
He settles down
inside to watch
the storm.

Marianne Szlyk is the editor of The Song Is... Recently, she published her second chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, with Flutter Press. Her first, Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, was published by Kind of a Hurricane Press. Her poems have appeared in Long Exposure, Of/with, bird's thumb, Solar Nation, Quill and Parchment, Silver Birch Press' series, Jellyfish Whispers, Napalm and Novocaine, Poppy Road Review, and other online and print venues including Kind of a Hurricane Press' anthologies.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Haiku--By Muskaan Ahuja--India

see- saw swing -
     the ups and downs
     of my life
smile -
     the curve of wrinkles
     on grandma's face

Muskaan Ahuja is a student pursuing graduation in English honors.  She loves challenging herself and writing poetry. She considers haiku as her journey in three lines and aspires to become English professor. 

A Field of Dreams--By Scott Thomas Outlar--United States

A Field of Dreams (Forgotten/Recalled)

Blue sky afternoon bliss
so pure and perfect
I could close my eyes
and become effervescent
soaking into the atmosphere
as the flesh breaks down
to a state of scattered atoms
and proves the theory
that All is One

Green grass fields of glory
so sharp and inviting
I could close my eyes
and remember a time
as a child when I played
a game that brought such joy
in every moment of perfection
that served as an introduction
to the reflection of today

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published work can be found. His chapbook "Songs of a Dissident" (Transcendent Zero Press) was released in 2015 and is available on Amazon. His poetry collections "Chaos Songs" (Longsword Press) and "Happy Hour Hallelujah" (CTU Publishing) are both forthcoming in 2016.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

Tanka--By Lavana Kray--Romania

camping on the outskirts
of the village—
the sound of a violin
moaning at intervals
black oil slick                            
washed up on the beach_
taking selfies
with the grounded fish
my life          
as the colorless fluid
of sky ...
a wounded crane looks
at the migrating flock

Lavana Kray is from Iasi – Romania. She is passionate about writing and photography. The nature and the events of her life are topics of inspiration. She believes that there is a core of poetry in all things. Both haiku and haiga have been published in: Haiku Canada Review, Asahi Shimbun, The Mainichi, World Haiku Association, Daily Haiga, Word Haiku Review, Haiku Presence and others… She was chosen for Haiku Euro Top 100-edition 2013. This is her blog:   

Lovely in Love--By Gerald McBreen--United States

Lovely in Love

Love is as close as we’ll get to heaven.
It is what makes people, like you and me, glow
     it is what makes life a radiant flow.
Lovely is the love of you and I.
And it must be tended with gentle care
     because it is the dream I promised you.
Together we’ll make it true.
Not an easy thing to do.
Lover’s hearts open wide,
     you’ll love me, I’ll love you,
     and that’s as close to heaven as it gets.

Gerald McBreen is the Coordinator for the Striped Water Poets of Auburn, WA. They host an "open mic" every first Monday of the month. He is Poet Laureate of Pacific, WA. (2009-2015) His most recent award - winning the online Cover Letter Contest for July, 2014 - River Styx. He loves to see members of the Striped Water Poets advance and get published. 

Friday, July 15, 2016

From the Archives—The Gift of Hope—Featuring Gert W. Knop, David Austin, Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson and Ndongolera C. Mwangupili

Dear Whispers' Readers,

With the terrorist attacks, increase in youth violence, and brutality that surround us, writers are challenged as part of humanity to lift up those that have been shaken by events that they couldn’t even imagine a couple of decades ago.  Where we explore problems; we can also share solutions.  When people are weeping, we can offer encouragement.  And where people feel disenchanted or disengaged, let us wrap them in kindness without judgment.

As a former emergency department nurse, I am grounded in the reality that there are no pretty bows to wrap this all up.  Some use that as an excuse to do nothing.  In those corners of doing nothing, we can make a difference.  I know personally how words at the right time can impact a life. I ask you not to let those moments slip away.

Today, I chose poems from our archives that encouraging, hopeful, uplifting or sharing the gift of life.  Thank you Gert W. Knop, David Austin, Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson and Ndongolera C. Mwangupili for your creative views, all capturing the gift of life—where one can always find hope.

                                                Blessings, Karen O’Leary—Whispers’ Editor


Spread out your wings,
fly high,
further, further yet
and far beyond the sky,
without a fear
into the light,
where future lives
and life is bright

By Gert W. Knop--Germany                                            

Domestic Scene

by the alley
paint bare and splintered
this leaning    green fence
inside    safe in their garden
two old women chattering

By David Austin—United States

Live with Hope and Love

It is far better to live
Believing in hope and love
That there is a heaven for us above
That it is death
that takes us on our way
If full of love to join
Angels at play.
Living life believing
Full of hope
Gives you good reason
To love and cope
With all the ailments
Found from war and pain
To make you want
To live again
Like an Angel up in heaven above
In a climate created purely from love....

By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson—Canary Islands

Gaze and Rain

Eyes gaze
north… up north
I ponder and wonder
… then I sigh.

… Then it rained
and heavily,
though briefly.

The gaze and the rain
bite the skin,
the skin of the poor,
yet still hope glows in them.

By Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi

Marking Time--By Anna-Marie Docherty--Wales

Marking Time

Years on
Ghosts torment still
What have we learnt
Terror trauma torture
Truths suffered

Century passed
Time to speak
That in remembrance, peace
Mark time together
Take stance
Anna-Marie Docherty lives in Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK and is often inspired by nature and the world around her. Having been writing poetry now for 4 - 5 years, her works have developed in structure and form as well as using free verse in her writing as she walks this endless art form and creativity in her thirst to further learn. Letting the pen and the muse dictate topic and form both humour, religion, nature or the serious subject might be touched upon therefore keeping the writing fresh and easy to read by those who follow. Writing both as given name above and pen name anaisnais through the net, examples of poems can be found both in Snippets, an anthology of short verse by various international poets, compiled by Karen O'Leary and Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson; also Pink Panther magazine, an anthology written by several poets and artists on feminist issues in our environment and various poems on the internet for taster.

Creating--By David Fox--United States


In a cozy café
of soft repose
I write a harmony
of original
and aesthetic masterpieces
In rhythm with the rain.

David Fox’s writing has appeared in over 100 venues, including newsletters, blogs, print journals and websites. He has been published in the U.K., Canada, India, Finland and the U.A.E.  He edits a print journal, The Poet's Art, (see his ad in the Whispers Ad column).

Thursday, July 14, 2016

A Mingled Cup--By Neil Creighton--Australia

A Mingled Cup

When upon the world of men I think,
Its tender love, its lust for power,
A disturbing, mingled cup I drink
With tastes both sweet and bitterly sour.
A child’s laughter, whilst joy most bright,
Is lost in the staccato burst of gun
And innocence is damaged by the blight
Of injustice and gain corruptly won.
Then dark thoughts oppress and sadden,
That we who on this blue planet live,
Each other so callously burden
Taking much more than we ever give.
The horror of sharing this miracle of life
And wasting it in division and murderous strife.

Neil Creighton and his wife, Diana, live in a small village outside of Sydney, Australia. He was an English and Drama teacher. He has had a lifelong love of poetry. His subjects of love, justice, the beauty and mystery of the world, evocation of place and the search for meaning are expressed in a variety of styles. His poems have been published in The Second Genesis, An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry and Prosopisia, An International Poetry Journal. He blogs at. "Wind of Flowers--Poems by Neil Creighton."

Haiku--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

dark sky
for a fleeting moment
one faint star

evening in the meadow
sandhill cranes
dancing with the stars

morning walk
tinsels of mist rising
between the vibrant peaks

hailstorm ends 
a rumpled robin
hunkers on a post

nature drive
a wild turkey flies
across the windshield

Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Tanka--By Aju Mukhopadhyay--India

on its way home
the kite carries
in its wings
the orange love
of the setting sun

with abounding joy
fraught with risk and danger
clinging together they move
through the neighbourhood-

wishing to relish
the abounding beauty
I dallied-
and settled finally
with the ugly

Aju Mukhopadhyay, a bilingual award winning poet, author and critic, writes fictions and essays too. He has authored 32 books and received several poetry awards from India and USA besides other honours. Recently he has received Albert Camus Centenary Writing Award, 2013 from Canada / Cyprus. He is a regular contributor to various magazines and e-zines in India and abroad. He is in the editorial and advisory board of some important literary journals. His poems and short stories have been widely anthologised and translated.

Waiting--By Christine Tate--United States

We wait for most appointments
and on endless check-out lines,
in long, boring traffic jams
and always at stop signs...
We wait to catch a bus,
taxi, or a train, and
wait at busy airports
just to board a plane!

We wait on the telephone
and for all kinds of repairs,
but expect instant answers
to all of our prayers.
Be patient for God's answers,
there's no use getting riled,
they may not come tomorrow
but the wait will be worthwhile!

Christine Tate has been writing since 1994. She's the mother of 3 sons and has 8 grandchildren. She was widowed in 2007 and met her husband Artie, a widower with 6 children & 12 grandchildren, in a nursing facility where their mothers resided. They've been happily married 4 1/2 years. They describe their meeting as "God's divine appt." because of their faith, and the fact that they swore they'd never marry again. 

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Wild Fruit--By Lynn White--Wales

Wild Fruit

I like the wild berries best.
Juice spilling over.
staining my tongue purple
or my lips red.
Each one a new sensation.
A little harder to come by,
than the bland clones,
the cultivars.
A bit more of a struggle.
And, it must be said,
not always sweet.
One never knows
with these wild fruits.
With each taste comes a surprise.
Spit out the sour,
take in the sweet.
Such joy!
Oh yes!
the wild berries are the best.

First Published in The Dawntreader, Summer 2015

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poems have been widely published.

The Visit--By Jennifer Criss--United States

The Visit

I felt a cold chill
on that warm night
and I thought
it might have been you
paying me a visit.

I felt icy fingers
crawl down my back.
perspiration replaced
by goosebumps.
Then nothingness again.

I’m afraid, but also sad
you’ve abandoned me again.

Jennifer Criss graduated from Ball State University with a minor in Creative Writing, a lifelong passion.  She is currently collaborating on an anthology for older adults and helps lead a writing support group. Jennifer writes mostly short stories but has discovered a love for writing poetry.  Her poetry has been published in Poebita Magazine. She now works at Ball State, is a busy mother of two girls and her pen keeps moving. She is an editorial assistant with Indiana Voice Journal.

Monday, July 11, 2016

Captivating Titles--Whispers' July Writing Exercise

Dear Whispers Readers,

Titles are our first opportunity to capture a reader’s attention, yet so many times I feel a bit disappointed when an otherwise wonderful poem starts off with a title that repeats the first line. Other times, something from the ending is shared that gives away the message, leaving the verse feeling flat.

Finding the right title is hard but if you find one that intrigues or sparks the interest of the editor, you increase the likelihood of publication. One editor I know had 1000 submissions for the latest issue.  Some competitive poetry journals accept 2% or less of what is submitted.  So, every detail matters.  (Note—this does not refer to untitled forms such as haiku and tanka.)

I would like to try an exercise that I hope you will enjoy.

1.      Please share a poem that is untitled—2-10 lines
  in the Post a Comment

2.      Use the reply button, Reply, below any poem that you want
  to suggest a title for

3.      Please note that if you suggest a title the author is authorized
  to use it for publication with his or her poem without
  further authorization.

Below is my poem for this exercise, with a reply for your reference.  I look forward to reading your poems and suggestions for titles.


Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor