Sunday, January 31, 2016

If I were a river--By April Mae M. Berza--Philippines

If I were a river

If I were a river, I will choose
you as my destination, to flow
like the tears of the cherubs
one summer to quench the thirst
of the vineyards.

I could hear the orchestra,
your violin laughter and your piano
smile blending harmoniously
with my heartbeat that I tried
to tie my foot to the hills
like the marriage of smell
and touch.

The pain in my chest to find
you in the arms of the sea is
a stabbing, I succumb that I feel
the sorrow travelling in my veins,
I am alone in this journey,
alone in this journey.

April Mae M. Berza is the author of Confession ng isang Bob Ong Fan (Flipside, 2014) and Berso de Berza (Charging Ram, 2012.) She is the editor of Metaphor magazine. Her poems and short stories appeared in numerous publications in the US, Canada, Romania, India, Japan, UK and the Philippines. Her poems are translated in Crimean Tatar and Filipino. Some of her poems are published in Ani, Belleville Park Pages, Liwayway, The Siren, Poetica, Calliope, Maganda, Remembering Rizal: Voices from the Diaspora, Letters to My Bully, Kalyani, Metric Conversions, The Manila Times, Contemporary Verse 2, and elsewhere. Her poem "E-Martial Law" was broadcast on IndoPacific Radio on KPFA 94.1FM/ She is a member of Poetic Genius Society. She lives in Taguig, Philippines.

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Editor's Thoughts/Living Wings--By Karen O'Leary

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

January 15 marked the third Anniversary of our online journal/poetry community.  Contributors, this is a tribute to you.  You are the wings of Whispers!  Thank you to everyone that promotes our online journal in any way.  We started as a small seedling and have blossomed into an international journal with writers from each of six major continents.   

Words cannot express how grateful I am to work with so many talented writers.  Your encouragement of others is greatly appreciated.  It is that encouragement that inspires poets to keep on writing and all it costs is a few minutes of time.  I ask you to understand that some of the writers that contribute poetry cannot leave comments for one reason or another.  I asked them to keep sending poetry.  Our reader base is growing, too.  Everyone is vital to essence and lifeblood of Whispers.

If you have any thoughts to share, please use the comments section below or email me at  I am excited about the year ahead and hope many more will follow.

With that, I would like to share the poem that started our journey—

Living Wings

carry music
like the song of the wind…
faithful voice of night wraps the heart
in love

Wishing you all of you a joy-filled writing journey.  Thank you all!!


Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor

Winter Writes--By Maralee Gerke--United States

Winter Writes

I rise in the darkness of a winter day,
drink a cup of peppermint tea,
and breathe in pungent steam,
as the sun pokes its delicate corona
above the hoary fields.

I am the flannel goddess of dawn
the polyester priestess of birdseed.
I open bins of sunflower and millet
and measure out the right mix
for the finches, sparrows, jays, and doves,
inviting them to a ceremony of food.

Inside, I take off vest, gloves, hat,
and blow on my icy fingers.
I sit at my computer and begin to type.
My fingers move to the rhythms of take offs and landings,
the whirr of wings providing accompaniment 
to the melody of my winter writes.

Maralee Gerke lives and writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown CafĂ©. She recently recorded 4 poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts. 

Flower of the Future--By Aju Mukhopadhyay--India

Flower of the Future

Unknown and uncertain
Are the results
Of the mystic bud
Blooming unseen
While shimmering hope
Is rising up
From the luminous vast
That the flower of the future
In harmony with Nature
For a Divine purpose
Has been opening its petals
From ages far behind
Towards a time
Peaceful and glorious.

It is a pleasure to announce that Aju’s book of poems, Time Whispers in my Ear was released recently, at

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.

Friday, January 29, 2016

Outshined--By Lisa DeVinney--United States


It’s nearly dawn
and a slivered almond moon
hangs precariously in
an indigo sky.
With each passing moment,
the horizon brightens –
First to dusty rose,
then a bit of turquoise
blends the day star’s light
into a golden canvas.
And all the while,
the wisp of a moon
continues its fade
into daylight,
outshined by the sun.
As am I.

“He must become greater;
I must become less.”
John 3:30 NIV

Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at

New Year…--By Barbara Siekierski--United States

New Year…

Chapters to be read
as we meet the dawn

Maps to draw
and dreams await,
doors yet to open

With God,
we embrace

Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

My Little Angel--By Subilaga Emmie Mulaga Jana--Malawi

My Little Angel

A luminous light brightens my soul
Each time I look in to those big brown eyes
I am charmed by the sweet innocent giggles
Of love dripping longevity
The angelic feel of those tireless subtle kisses
The warm assuring embraces
The big bare unforgettable hugs
The magnet when he falls in my arms
And lays his perfect little head on my shoulders
I missed you mummy, how are you mummy
His pumping heart, resting against mine
I feel like a queen of the universe
My heart dances with butterflies
My blood rushes like a summer’s waterfall
Sending waves of rainbow glory
That gracefully halts all my fears
He looks at me with those sparkly mischievous eyes
Then he smiles at me with those defined dimples
And I know for sure that angels exist

Born on 30th August 1980 at Lilongwe Central Hospital in Malawi, Subilaga has always loved to write since at a tender age. She wrote short stories and was always interested in things of art. English was always her favorite subject. Subilaga has been writing poems since the age of ten, and it is after someone read her poetry that he thought it was worth sharing. She has always been a spiritual person and is always in touch with her feelings. She believes the gift of poetry is deep spirited and comes from a deep connection with reality.

Snowflake Saga--By David Fox--United States

Snowflake Saga

Snowflakes shine
Snowflakes shimmer
In wintertime, they're sublime
As they fall, they glow and glimmer
They start out energized
Then begin to wilt
And eventually land
Creating nature's quilt.

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).

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Just Words--By Shannon O'Leary--United States

Just Words

Don’t tell me I’m fine
Don’t tell me it will all work out
These are just words
I need something so much more
I turn to my God
I open my heart and soul
And He says this
“My child, it will all work out
because I will hold your hand
through this storm.
We can get through this.”
Suddenly a peace 
washes over me...
so much more than just words

Shannon O'Leary is elementary teacher from Fargo, North Dakota. Currently, she is working on her masters. She provides creative writing activities to inspire her students. Her first-graders have published poems in a local newspaper. Shannon has published her own poetry in the following venues, Sketchbook, Snippets and Smile. She is the daughter of our editor.

Haiku--By Arvinder Kaur--India

at home
the chrysanthemums bloom and fade-
hospital silence

soldier's homecoming -
mother hums a lullaby
one last time

the same sand
where all my castles  fell -

long distance call -
chirp by chirp the sounds
of childhood

wheat stalks-
someone calls me
by a forgotten name

Arvinder Kaur is an Associate professor in English and Media Studies. She writes haiku both in Punjabi as well as English. She has four books to her credit which include poetry, a work of translation and her first collection of punjabi haiku, Nimolian. Her work has been published in several haiku journals and anthologies. She lives in Chandigarh with her family. 

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

So Much Is Lost--By Kelley White--United States

So Much Is Lost

Last week you took away my father’s photographs
of Nagasaki, the coins he brought home from Japan
in 1947, the paper money, improbably printed
in English, labeled by the bank of Imperial Japan,
that I taped together to make a garland
in 1967, when I believed in a world of peace,
before 1968, assassinations, and a war for my own
generation in a far off place. My son, expert
on the history of Atari, of Namco, of Bally Midway,
Pac-Man, Nintendo, Intellivision, Playstation, Sony,
of arcade arts, of shooting games. You will be living
there, in the country that boy touched. Want me
to come see you in an odd-numbered month
so we can see Sumo? Will you show me Kyoto?
And Hiroshima? Cherry blossoms, and the museum
of the bomb. Here, we’ve found a match—a temple
in a black and white photo, in your grandfather’s journal,
brilliantly painted, crisply in focus, on your phone.

Pediatrician Kelley White worked in inner city Philadelphia and now works in rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in journals including Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.

May Lilacs Linger Everlastingly--By Andrea Dietrich--United States

May Lilacs Linger Everlastingly

May lilacs linger everlastingly
in dreams he dreams of me. Whenever he,
by chance, is in a pitch black room alone,
may he recall the scent of my cologne.

As long as I can write sweet poetry,
may lilacs linger everlastingly.
May he recall our love song slowly playing;
how we danced, pressed together, swaying.

And may he still remember my warm breath
against his cheek. Beyond his very death,
may lilacs linger everlastingly
the same way he stays in my memory.

Oh, may he not forget - when shadows fall -
our kisses in the dark. We had it all!
My darling man, may he remember me.
May lilacs linger everlastingly.

Andrea Dietrich grew up in Iowa and now resides in Utah with a spouse and two cats. She has two grown children and six grandchildren. Having graduated BYU with a Spanish major/ESL minor, she has spent most of her adult life teaching. It wasn't until 2000 that she began writing in earnest and discovering her "niche" as a writer of lyrical poetry. The internet opened up a new world for her, and she has spent nearly a decade now participating in poetry clubs, acting as a judge of poetry contests for various magazines and for the website Shadow Poetry.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Poetry--By Vivian Belford--Nigeria


It all begins in a vision
Engraved in creative minds
Quietly it nags at our mindfulness and
Slowly it comes alive in print
True stories in hues of earth, in light and dark
This love of words, though secretly untaught     
From old torn newspapers and wrinkled hints
Of puzzles, crosswords and conundrums
Has publicly wedded the he(ad) and he(art) in
A ceremony of prose and paradise of poems
Deeply immersed, submerged and engrossed
Held spellbound by your skill and flair
Your artistic force, pull and flow
Teases our hands to speak in ink
For our minds is stripped of fear
When we lay the soul bare on white sheets
Repeatedly slaked in unspoken words
And unabashedly culminated in candid rap

Vivian Belford is a freelance writer by day and an aspiring actor by night, she started writing professionally in 2013. Some of her work has been featured in Indian periodicals, Tuck magazine and Creativity webzine. She is currently starring in her own movie "living and dying with a smile." She writes from Abuja, Nigeria.

The Moon--By John Polselli--United States

The Moon

Ascending incrementally below
The sable ceiling of the firmament,
Emblazoned with a crown of stars aglow
Like gleaming diamonds of the opulent,
Or burning tapers ’round a mausoleum
Does the cyclops of the heavens loom
Above this rolling luminary colosseum;
Above this whirling solitary womb.
Yet, as one drowning in a sea of black
Descends unto the depths to meet his death,
The ashen moon swerves downward on its track,
Diffused in mist, diminishing in breadth;
A genuflection to the morning light
Which resurrects and vanquishes the night.

John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards.  As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States

to nothing I know
river ice

flitting sparrows
mom turns
the wheel of life

grandma’s birthday
pondering her afterlife
in pine shade

another month
of no rain she pours
her heart out

land surveyor exposing the plot

Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku.  His most current anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, was released in 2014.

The Greatest Platform--By Pam Murray--Canada

The Greatest Platform

Your footsteps took me places
That I’d never go alone
And all those words of wisdom
Became seeds I have sown.

Your eyes became the visions
That give me joy today
And all those special memories
Still keep the tears at bay.

I miss you every moment,
Yet you stay close to me.
You were the greatest platform
To set my spirit free.

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.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Andrea Dietrich and CayCay Jennings--United States

Silver and Gold – A Friendship Duet

By Andrea Dietrich and CayCay Jennings

Your concern cushions my every footstep.
You never lean - I freely walk, talk, dance –
Knowing you would never seed my regret,
but remain golden with your acceptance.

Like pure golden ore is your lovely gift –
acceptance given without any strings.
Respecting each other, we’ll have no rift.
When free to be me, my spirit sings!

Silver and gold; silver and gold –
our friendship is a sweet treasure –
a bounty of gladness always to hold.
Silver and gold; silver and gold –
a value of two-heart measure.

My bridge of dreams could never safely rise,
protectively anchored to strongly stand
while arching to yet, higher calling skies
without your love securing it to land.

A bridge shining silver - indeed - it seems –
this friendship you’ve happily given to me.
Together let’s climb it, fulfilling our dreams
as we love unconditionally!

Silver and gold; silver and gold –
our friendship is a sweet treasure –
a bounty of gladness always to hold.
Silver and gold; silver and gold –

In Memoriam--By Ronald Grognet--United States

In Memoriam

lung cancer
the mystery
of her silence

her rooster display
greets me each morning
another new day

from roosters first call
to the end
her collection

Ronald Grognet is a retired Clinical Psychologist who practiced private individual and family therapy for thirty-five years. He lived and worked in Washington D.C., and Sarasota, FL before retiring in New Orleans to be close to his grandsons. Besides his volunteer time spent on disaster assignments for the Red Cross, he fills his time devoted to haiku poetry. His interest in poetry came as a gift in retirement. Reading an article about haiku filled with many examples, he recognized its similarity to the reflective stance of the meditation he practiced for many years. He has vigorously pursued its study for the last two years, personally experiencing its healing and enlightening qualities.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Loving Friend--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands

Loving Friend

Living life wanting love to be
Openly embraced by all we see
Vastly shared right from the core
Injecting peace by destroying war
Nurturing children in same way
Giving them security day by day

Feeling each other’s trouble and pain
Reaching out again and again
In order to help them overcome
Endure everything so life is fun
Needing always to embrace and give
Directions in peaceful way to live

Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miners daughter, the only girl among 6 lads. A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18.  Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters.  Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents.  After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently.  She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.

B-Day-3--By Gerald McBreen--United States


I'll sing a birthday song
though it may be out of tune
I am hoping it will do.

I hear you are three
and just as proud
as you should be.

If I count on my toe-ies
what comes next
is number four.

So I'll whisper on a breeze
in your dreams Happy B-day
Happy B-day number three.

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.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

The Poet Spoke--By Dan Tharp--United States

The Poet Spoke

The poet spoke yet few had listened,
few were they to turn their heads
and see from where the voice had come,
that place from where the poet bled.

There he lay upon the sheets
as one quiescent on his bed;
and whispered well his final wishes
while the fleeting moments fled.

Yet, could it be that some should hear
the secrets of a dying man
and take to heart the message rendered
where the few could apprehend?

And though it matter little to him,
(were it for  the words he wrote)
they should marvel at his genius;
should they quibble at his note.

Dan Tharp is the author of four books of poetry, 3 of which are in chapbook form... Side by Side, Yielding Desire to Fate, A Season Made for Wondering and A Rose in the Briar Patch. Dan resides in Southern California.

New Year--By Dr. Upma A. Sharma--India

New Year

When new year resolutions at the eve
shatter in shimmer of next day's sunrise,
Setting sun's aurora if could forgive
Promises unkept waiting to fulfil,
beauty of dawn takes up as a surprise,
Grudges of past lost to desires that chill.

End up in dreams to be unveiled in time,
Some golden moments we fondly cherished,
in few years of life that were utmost prime,
Achievements studded in crown of glory
still far was content to be embellished,
New year nurtures hope, another story.

When new year resolutions at the eve
end up in dreams to be unveiled in time.

Passion for poetry can turn anyone crazy, Dr. Upma A. Sharma has proved this so well. She finds time from her busy schedule to satiate her appetite for words, words that rhyme with her heart. She feels that nothing in this world happens without a reason and so is poetry. This indeed is a purposeful expression of emotions and thoughts that are well oxygenated before putting them into circulation, and positive words certainly are a way to serenity.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016


Dear Whispers’ Friends,

It is a pleasure to share with you the first activity of 2016 hosted by Brian Strand.  It was a pleasure to read the TIEN poems he selected for publication.  The TIEN form is a one liner of ten, one syllable words, with no title.

Thank you to all the contributors and especially, Brian, for sharing these enjoyable poems for us to read.  Please take time to comment and thank Brian for her hard work on this.  If you missed the deadline, feel free to share TIEN poems in the comments section.

Happy writing!

Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor

Keep still, my heart, just let each day go by.

My life will not hold all there is to love.

By Jim Teeters

Climb steps, two at a time to save some time.

Stand, and wait for me near this old gum tree.

By Suzanne Delaney

To write is a gift that God gives to me.

By David Fox

Love scars, old pain, but fresh blood tears still fall.

Brisk sky, blue eyes, fresh food for my heart’s dreams.

By Victoria Anderson-Throop    

I bid the night bye, and greet dawn with joy.

The Moon will be a close friend for a tune.

By Ken Allan Dronsfield

The Moon looks to me, if I own the Sun

By Joyraj Deb

I rode my horse in a field of soft grass.

Love--at times you have it, at times you don't.

By Barbara Tate

The young colt was caught but, kept a free soul.

The wild Wolf howled at the moon, a sad sound.

By Shirley Smothers

In my pruned tree, I saw a nest of twigs.

I gave back his lost ball; bounce of a child!

By Ralph Stott

The pale moon sings of the spring's sun in fall 

The sign said to walk the rope bridge bare feet

By Sheikha A. 

A wren, small brown bird, sings joy dawn to dusk. 

When I broke the cup you made, my heart ached. 

By Elizabeth Howard

day cries fine drops of mist wait to be whole

Night I dream see dawn' s light with my third eye

Mike Bayles

the joy of words shared with friends--a great gift

By Karen O'Leary

If days are full of tears, hours will be years

Is a vow a vow, or just words for now

By Brian Strand

Winter Reflection--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

Winter Reflection

A cool, stiff wind captures the gaze
in my eyes as I look out my window
on this first day of the New year.
Crisp chills, snow-covered soil; the
Earth’s tranquil delight here in the
Midwest.  Clear skies, bright stars,
copper mountaintops, and frozen
lakes will play their part.  Zero-
below temperature days and long,
bone-chilling nights will trouble the
mind; icy roads and stranded vehicles
don’t do much to ease the woes of this
season, but the fresh snows and still
nights draw near to the bright moon,
providing light for the dark skies,
warming my heart and reflecting
the radiance and beauty of the
season.  Winter’s reflection is
unlike any other.

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:

Lost Moments--By Caryl Calsyn--United States

Lost Moments

Dirty dishes fill the sink,
the furniture collects dust,
a laundry basket overflows.

My child asks me to play
a new game with him.

I tell him—I just can’t.

Dirty dishes fill the sink,
the furniture collects dust,
a laundry basket overflows.

My child’s child asks me
to play a game with her.

In the wisdom that comes with age
and memories of moments lost,

I tell her—I’d love to.

Previously published in The Storyteller

Caryl Calsyn is a retired Interior Designer with involvements in many areas including history, writing and singing groups. She has had a total of 86 poems published by nine different publications.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Tanka--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India


my steps
a dragonfly …
finding my way out
my of thoughts

from all sides of my room
the first snow ...
in mother’s lap
I collect the warmth
my pot of water
the rising sun …
at every tinkle of a bell
pelting holy flowers

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.

“Barney and Molly”--By Marcus Omer--United States

“Barney and Molly”
  There was a rich man named Barney Krupp.
  While eating vittles his jaws would droop.
  He was eating one day
  when his elbows gave way,
  ‘fore they caught him he drowned in his soup.

  Now the waitress named Molly distraught
  about the large bowl of soup she’d brought.
  Ole Barn’s a large tipper;
  when poverty did grip-her,
  she went back to what Mother had taught.

  Her late Mother a dancer by trade,
  there was only one choice to be made.
  So Miss Molly McPhee
  remembers ole Barney,
  in a large bowl, as a dancing mermaid.

Marcus Omer got 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.

Monday, January 18, 2016

At a Coffin Shop--By Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi

At a Coffin Shop

‘How much a coffin?’ Ask I. ‘Status
matters here,’ replies the coffin seller.
‘executive 100 thousand, standard
plain formica 40 thousand and
with no formica 20 thousand.’

‘Standard plain formica and on credit.’
‘on credit 45 thousand, sir. And
how do you pay? Cash
after burial or month-end?’
with a fallen face respond I, ‘month-end.’

We bury and month-end comes;
 I pay cash. The coffin seller produces a receipt:
‘being cash of 45 thousand only in payment
of a coffin, standard plain formica.
thank you for doing business with us.’

Ndongolera C. Mwangupili works as a Senior Inspector of Schools in Malawi. He has vast experience as a teacher of English and Bible Knowledge. Many of his short stories, poems and essays have been published in the Malawi News and Weekend Nation. His stories are anthologized in Modern Stories from Malawi and The Bachelor of Chikanda and Other Stories. His poem “The Genesis” was anthologized in The Time Traveller of Maravi: New Poetry from Malawi. His other poem “Letters to a Comrade” is published online in India on He believes that there is a thin line between fiction and reality. All that people write is a re-creation of what is already known to the writer and exists not only in the mind of the writer but also outside the writer, therefore, fiction is actually facts written as if they are not facts. He is married to Angella, and they have two daughters Mary Magdalena and Princess Cleopatra.

Sunshine Song--By Scott Thomas Outlar--United States

Sunshine Song

Sitting here
I sing for you
a song of
morning sunshine,
chirping from
my little lungs
a yellow flower symphony.

Soon enough
your siren call
will echo
through the airwaves,
dancing with
a compass rose
to guide me home and nest.

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry and fiction can be found. His chapbook "Songs of a Dissident" was released in 2015 through Transcendent Zero Press and is available now on Amazon.

Sunday, January 17, 2016

The Best Things in Life Are Free--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States

The Best Things in Life Are Free

'Tis often said that the best things in life are free.
Open your eyes and keen those ears and I think you would agree!
When Old Sol gilds the eastern skies then settles in the west,
We're awed by the Master's Artistry and we are truly blessed!

Note the magnificence of a rainbow arching across the sky;
In the ebon universe, the celestial bodies silently passing by.
The sight of skeins of geese winging their way to points unknown;
The sound of soughing winds through the pines so stately grown!

Dew drops on crimson roses at dawn that grace a pristine lawn;
The gamboling nigh yon copse of a graceful doe and her fawn.
Hear the laughter of little children cavorting in the park,
And the cheery song in the lea of a very contented meadow lark!

Sounds of water playing its hymn rushing o'er stones in a stream;
The sight of a majestic eagle soaring high and its clarion scream!
Mountains reaching for the sky are a magnificent sight to behold;
In the autumn, the trees all cloaked in crimson, yellow and gold!

Herds of buffalo and sleek antelope grazing on the rolling plain;
Awesome displays of lightning to be seen during a pouring rain.
There are so many things that are free, too many to really measure,
That don't cost a cent if we'd only take the time for them to treasure!

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.

Are You Not Snow?--By Learnmore Edwin Zvada--Zimbabwe

Are You Not Snow?

Are you not snow, the daughter of a cold winter spell?
You sure do have the ways of the raindrop
Only gentler do you fall
Like a wizened leaf falling off an old tree 
But white is such a sad color on you
Assorted colors of the rainbow, 
Those would look glam on you
But you chose not the refulgence of colors
Preferring a monochrome flaunting such as of nightly emanation

Are you not snow, a forgiving curse of the thawing sea?
I have seen you cringing amidst the clouds
At such you tear into drizzle and mist 
Like a lover scorned, somewhat forward as it were 
Something is surely brewing up there
I should think you are a bit immoral for my taste
Reason why I will tiptoe whenever you are around

Learnmore Edwin Zvada is a Zimbabwean poet with a desire to inspire and amuse people with poetry. Currently he is working on his first poetry book.