Friday, June 15, 2018

Ode to Shut-Ins--By David Fox--United States

Ode to Shut-Ins

Some shut-ins live at home
Others are behind bars
Others in nursing home beds
Trying to look at the stars
Most shut-ins hearts are broken
While others just need to mend
To all shut-ins that I know
I consider you my friend.

(From David: I volunteer at a nursing home and have had other shut-ins, whether they are home-bound or in another nursing home submit to my magazine.)

David Fox edits the magazine, The Poet's Art. For info about submitting and submissions fee, contact David by postal mail: 171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia NY, 11749, United States.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Can You Go Home Again?--By Caryl Calsyn--United States

Can You Go Home Again?

The author, Thomas Wolfe
wrote that you cannot.

I wanted to argue that I have
done so, in visits, countless times,

but I have to concede, he is right,
as I stand in a house no longer home.

We were a family of five the last time
I was here. I’d been sure we’d always be.

My husband and son had left, too soon,
and now reside in their heavenly home.

Memories, reality and tears overflowed
as I stood in a house no longer home.

Caryl Calsyn is a retired interior designer.  She has always been a writer, but poetry became the mode preferred a few years ago and eventually she became a published author.  She is a past president of a writer’s club, past chairman of the county historical commission and a museum board member.  She leads a faith group and sings in a chorale and the church choir.

Und schau' ich...--By Arthur Rehbein--Translated By--Gert Knop--Germany

Arthur Rehbein (pseudonym Atz vom Rhyn)—In Memory 1867-1952—Germany
(shared and authorized for publication by Gert Knop—a Whispers’ contributor since 2013)

German--By Arthur Rehbein

Und schau' ich hinab in das liebliche Thal,
Dann werden die Märchen der Jugend wach.
Grüß Gott, Grüß Gott dich viel tausendmal,
Mein sagenumwobenes Eisenach

English Translation--By Gert Knop

And when I look down to the lovely valley,
Then the fairy tales of youth come to life.
I greet you God,
God bless you more than a thousand times.
My legendary Eisenach

Note from Gert Knop: My granduncle Arthur Rehbein was a journalist from 1893 till 1899 for a newspaper in Arnstadt, Thuringia. He loved Eisenach which was the hiding place of reformer Martin Luther in 1521/22, where he translated the New Testament of the Bible into German in only eleven days.  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe visited the Wartburg several times in 1777. The Wartburg near Eisenach (Thuringia) is a UNESCO – World Heritage Site since 1999.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Haiku-Senryu--By Kelly Sauvage Angel--United States

Haiku-Senryu

making peace
with an untenable past
full moon’s halo
---
the whisper
of a secret prayer
wild violet
--- 
home at last
each mismatched dish
washed by hand
---
morning embrace
the light not yet peeking
over your shoulder
---
Kelly Sauvage Angel is the author of Om Namah… (published under Kalyanii) and the long out-of-print poetry collection Scarlet Apples & Cream. She most enjoys wiling away her free time in the art studio and amid the magnificence of the natural world.

My Inner Voice--By Emile Pinet--Canada

My Inner Voice (a sonnet)

I leave the daily hustle and bustle
of a city's cacophony of sound.
And go to where the leaves softly rustle
in the breeze... and no one else is around.

When I'm alone, I find an inner peace
that raises my soul to a higher plane.
And anxiety's attacks slowly cease
free from critical critiques and disdain.

Seclusion fuels imagination
shaping reality within my mind.
And it's a feeling of liberation,
unrestricted by rules of any kind.

Whenever I seek solitude by choice
I hush the whispers of my inner voice.

Emile Pinet was born in Bathurst, New Brunswick, Canada. Many of his poems reflect the uniqueness of nature, which he loves, and his poetic observations of life in general. Emile has been writing poems since he was about 35 years old (now 67). He decided to write down his ideas and express himself through his poetry.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

The Storefront Display--By Colan L. Hiatt--United States

The Storefront Display            

In a remote and quaint little country town
Shops dominated the one-way street
Merchants sought to promote their wares
With other vendors, they must compete

Clothing, food and antique shops
Novelties for tourist were galore
Often live music could be heard
In a section of the music store

As occasions and seasons did arise
The display, they would rotate
Reflecting changes and the latest fad
Enticing shoppers, to investigate

The question in life might arise
Does our "storefront" promote the inside
Of events of our daily life
Or are there areas, we wish to hide

Are we as a candle in the night  *
Dispelling gloom and dismay
On the street, what do "shoppers" see
When viewing our, "storefront display"

(* Matthew 5:15-16)

Colan L. Hiatt’s ultimate prayer and desire is that any and all poetic writings that he endeavors to present, would depict Christ as "the answer" to life's problems. May they offer hope and encouragement to pilgrims along the road of life.

River--By Paul Callus--Malta

River

Heart throbbing, euphoric,
like a giant slalom skier
the river gushes down
winding its reckless way
round obstacles and blind corners
unawed by imposing mountains
till it finally comes to the end
of its dizzy, breathless run
where the shimmering ocean waits
with eager yet patient anticipation.

Paul Callus is a Maltese author who writes both in Maltese and English. He has contributed to several anthologies. Apart from poetry he writes lyrics for songs and has published two books, one a story book aimed at children (related to his experience as a teacher) and a historical book based on research.

Monday, June 11, 2018

Haiku-By Elizabeth Howard--United States

a soaking rain
wild plums
wild and shiny


dim light
a hazy tangle
poodle and serpent 
____________ 

hospice care—
her bones curve
into his caress
____________ 

Elizabeth Howard lives in Arlington, Tennessee. Her work has appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Green Hills Literary Lantern, and many other journals.

Prawdziwe fantazje--By Eliza Segiet--Poland (Translation By Artur Komoter--United Kingdom)

Prawdziwe fantazje--Polish
(To Professor Bogumila Rouba)

By Eliza Segiet

Jakże łatwo odpocząć
w samotności rozmytych myśli.
Zostawić plany,
być tam -
daleko,
poza realnym czasem.
Tylko ja
i moje prawdziwe fantazje.
Być wolną,
a jednak
uwięzioną w ustach pulsującej natury.
Tylko odpływ
odkrywający nagość plaży
przypomina, że
czas płynie.

Eliza Segiet, Poland
____________________

True Fantasie
(To Professor Bogumila Rouba)

Translation by Artur Komoter--United Kingdom

How easy it is to rest
in loneliness of fuzzy thoughts.
To leave plans behind,
to be there -
far,
beyond real time.
Just me
and my true fantasies.
To be free,
yet
trapped in the mouth of pulsating nature.
Only the low tide
revealing the nudity of the beach
reminds that
time flows.
____________________

Eliza Segiet graduated with a Master's Degree in Philosophy, completed postgraduate studies in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Arts and Literature at Jagiellonian University, as well as Film and Television Production in Lodz. Author's works can be found in anthologies and literary magazines worldwide

(From Inge Wesdijk--Whispers' Poetry Editor--Eliza is published in English though she writes her poetry in Polish; Artur Komoter is her translator.)

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Calico Sentinel--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Calico Sentinel

the seedless dandelion tuft
arrives on nonexistent breeze
settling softly upon fluffy feline tail

observed by the one male kitten
in the family of four
who quickly pounces upon his prey

immediately swatted sideways
he dives for obscure safety
among his litter sisters

stares out menacingly
at the unruffled tuft
still smugly riding mother’s tail

weighing the consequence
of another of her slaps
for his certain repeat attack
  
Carl "Papa" Palmer of University Place, WA is retired military, retired FAA, now just plain retired without wristwatch, cell phone, alarm clock or Facebook friend. Carl is a Hospice volunteer and president of The Tacoma Writers Club.

MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever

When I Stare into Her Eyes--By Partha Chatterjee--India

When I Stare into Her Eyes

Her eyes
Full to the brim
Flow murmuring
as a stream.

I stealthily
set adrift
a boat there.

Convulsed
with shyness
She
Lowers the water level
And flows knee-deep.

Leaving the boat glued
In the mud.

I, hopelessly hopeful,
Wait for the next tide. 

Partha Chatterjee lives in India with his family. Born in 1986, he graduated from Burdwan University. He loves music and poetry.

Saturday, June 9, 2018

tanka/senryu--By Fatma Gultepe--Turkey

Dreaming
the summer stars
mom and dad smile

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

Empty woodshed
student lights the stove
with corncobs

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

four seasons
my endless reverie
of Mount Fuji

First published Failed Haiku, a Journal of English Senryu

-----

White Olympic mountain
my childhood dream
green valley and blue sea

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

After the quiz
I draw an April fish
on the board

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

Fatma Gultepe born in Bursa, Turkey in 1947. She is a retired English teacher. From time to time she writes poetry, especially haiku. She is a mezzo soprano and singing classical choral music.

Rondel for a Faithless Lover--By Nick Spargo--United Kingdom

Rondel for a Faithless Lover

I touched her cheek and left her standing there;
No words to say, no more tears to cry,
No answer to that simple question “Why?”
Whatever made me think that life was fair?

People always said we made the perfect pair,
Until I caught her out in yet another lie,
I touched her cheek and left her standing there;
No words to say, no more tears to cry.

I wander wind-swept streets all too aware
My heart is frozen, though my eyes are dry,
Move on; forget her, can I even try?
One thought still plagues me, “Did she ever care?”
I touched her cheek and left her standing there.

Nick Spargo writes poetry, short stories and monologues. He has been published extensively and has won a number of prizes with his work. He lives in the South-West of England.

Friday, June 8, 2018

The Ballad of Our Hearts--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

The Ballad of Our Hearts

endowing and inhabiting
touching and melting
Two who have met
taking the world in hand
forgetting nothing
forgiving everything
Embellishing salt-sweetness
pouring love into poems
---
couldn’t settle down
always on the move
multi-lingual  
in the language
of loneliness
---
sky being so blue
deep green of the meadow grass
words begin to shine
word-stained garments of poets
as we walk upon this earth

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 

The Painted Lady--By Anne Curran--New Zealand

The Painted Lady (a children's poem)

My delicate china lady
dressed in white
a flouncy dress
and decorative hat
stands with poise
at the foot of my bed

you guard my repose
you light up the passage

The hall doorway closed
to idle grown-up play
so I do not feel scared when
stairs creak
with small footsteps
apples drop onto stones
skeletons spiral from my closet

I do not feel scared
but watch for the cheerful wink
of your unblinking lamp

Anne Curran writes in Hamilton New Zealand where she resides with her pet car Misty and extended family of parents, brothers and sisters. She loves art, going to see films, and walks. 

Thursday, June 7, 2018

Spring into Summer--By Sara Kendrick--United States

Spring into Summer

The Calla lily beside the gate
Welcomes visitors here
Once their ivory blossoms open
Summer's arrived without a care

The peonies' blossoms faded
Gladiolus now in bloom
Lively bees will be humming 
Early morn's Rhapsody tune

Summer thunderstorms will rumble
In hot humid afternoons
Humans and nature will seek shelter
Some will even spoon

Relish the coolness of morn now
Heat of summer soon to stay
Out on the porch such a pleasure
At the break of spring's day

Sara Kendrick is a wife, mother, grandmother who enjoys writing about nature, daily happenings, and life in general.

Immortality--By Vincent Van Ross--India

Immortality

Who can
Stake claim
To immortality
On earth?

The moments
I have stolen
From
The angel of death
Make up
The precious span
Of my entire life
On earth!

Vincent Van Ross is a journalist and an editor based in New Delhi in India. He writes on national and international politics, defense, environment, travel, spirituality and scores of other topics. Apart from this, he dabbles in a little bit of poetry, fiction, non-fiction and humorous writings. He is also a renowned photographer and art critic. His poems are littered in anthologies and journals across the world.

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Haiku-By Robert Epstein--United States

63rd birthday
a lone Japanese maple leaf
Mom's next world greeting
____________

this morning
a silkworm at my door
seeking asylum
____________

lottery win?
we wave to each other
from our dream condos
____________

Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies including The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change and The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku.

Special Feature Translation Poem—By Claudia Messelodi—Italy

Altrove--Italian

By Claudia Messelodi

Ti vedo lontana e sfuggente all’orizzonte
la barriera dei miei dolori che non sa cedere
di grani di sabbia e gocce di sale sei tu
mentre evapori tra gli interminabili giorni
del mio sentire…
Tento di afferrarti
sei vuoto, non ti prendo
sempre ad un passo distante, oltre -
sostanza pura dentro me
riempi e plasmi
territori e confini persi
nella durezza delle ore
che inesorabili e fragili si rincorrono,
accarezzi il cuore e lo accompagni
ad ogni suo battito.
Presenza in un tempo che sfuma
tra i campi della notte
e si fa carezza
di un’alba che ci prende per mano
e apre un varco
in quel pezzo di cielo triste;
poi di porpora ci fa cenno
mentre strette ce ne andiamo via, altrove.

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

Elsewhere--English

I see you so distant and fleeing on the horizon
the barrier of my pains that cannot give in;
of grains of sand and drops of salt you are
while you vanish through the endless days
of my emotions...
I try to reach you
you are the void, I cannot catch you
always a foot away, beyond -
pure substance inside of me
you fill and shape
lost territories and borders
in the toughness of the hours
that relentless and fragile chase each other,
you caress my heart and accompany it
with every single beat.
Presence in a time 
fading
across the fields of the night
and becoming 
the soft touch of a dawn 
that takes us by the hand
and opens a breach
in that piece of sad sky;
then, clothed in purple, it waves at us 
as we walk away, close together,
elsewhere.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By David Fox, United States and Jack Horne, England

Summertime

By David Fox, United States and Jack Horne, England

Kites are flying high in the sky,
people lying around the beach,
kids are blowing soap-bubbles
and catching fireflies in jars,
baseball season is in full swing.

Long hot days, long muggy nights,
sipping cool drinks by the poolside,
strolling along the sunny seafront, 
happy laughter and seagulls' cries
mixing with music from the fairground.

Ah, childhood memories of Summer, 
we remember you well...

Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Down the Lane--By Miranda Lloyd-Gregg--England

Down the Lane

We met in a silent place, as the dead lie undisturbed,
Our paths crossed and we both stood our ground.
Briefly, our eyes locked, one on the other, in a frozen stare.
I thought I saw the glimmer of a challenge in those yellow eyes,
Although I meant him no harm;
In this passing place, he had as much right as I.
Then turning aside, the fox slipped back into woods
And I continued down the lane.

Miranda Lloyd-Gregg is a member of Waterfront Writers. She lives in Plymouth near the Efford Crematorium and whilst the poem is imaginary, there are foxes in the nearby woods.

Dad--By Lois Greene Stone--United States

Dad

You always said, “Be Careful”
when I left the house
and I responded by acting
defiant, telling you
I wasn’t a baby that needed
to be told to be careful.
You still said, “Be Careful”
the very next time even 
when I just took my
bicycle a few houses away.
“Yeah.  Sure,” I replied,
sounding cool, indifferent.
Now I understand what
you meant when you said
“Be Careful,” it’s still
your way of expressing
you love me.

(First published Skylark)

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. 

Monday, June 4, 2018

Nuts--By Lynn White--Wales

Nuts

Last night I dreamt
a squirrel's dream.
It must have been a squirrel’s.
Possibly red, possibly grey,
but definitely a squirrel’s.
There were so many nuts.
They were falling from the sky
like heavy rain.
I had to put up my blue umbrella
to protect me from the showers.
And on the ground,
ankle deep acorns
and hazels
were overtopping my blue boots.
But I saw no squirrels,
only their dreams
of nutty profusion.                        

(First published in Indiana Voice Journal)

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. Many poems have been widely published in anthologies, as well in online and print publications.

A Birthday Letter--By Jack Horne--England

A Birthday Letter

Another birthday drawing near -
although, of course, you are not here;
I'm not to send a gift or card,
no text or email - very hard.
I struggle still to understand
how it went wrong, and not as planned.
I fell in love, believed you cared;
and now recall the times we shared:
it seemed so good, so why goodbye,
that sudden end, no reasons why?
I must move on, my friends all say,
(they didn't like you anyway...)
I hope your birthday's full of fun,
but if it's dull, then think of one,
who wishes he were by your side...
I know if you saw this, you sighed

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry. He is Whispers' Activity Features Editor.

Sunday, June 3, 2018

Circle--By Bruce Mundhenke--United States

Circle

The lesser stars have yielded,
Another sun is near,
But every star that fled the sky,
Will surely reappear.

The darkness nearly ended,
Dawn will bring the light,
The daystar will appear,
Banishing the night.

Bruce Mundhenke writes poetry in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat. He finds in nature beauty, inspiration, and revelation.

Words--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada

Words 

In life tell the truth.
Say what you mean
--- mean what you say.
Take responsibility, be accountable
for your actions and your words.
Be compassionate to others.
Think before you leap
Words can uplift---words can hurt.
Be careful of the words you speak.

Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on Poetry.com and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.

Saturday, June 2, 2018

If I Go Before You--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

If I Go Before You

Sunlight of life fades quickly
its shadows crowd our path,
and into the glorious light
of God we gently step.
For each, His pattern is set;
so, should I go before you,
no tears, my dear friend.
Remember only the happy
times we shared

John W. (Bill) Williams is a retired language arts and children’s literature educator.  He lives in Martin, GA, where he stays busy with his art and poetry.  He has been published in a variety of venues.

'Til the End of Day--By Linda Hurdwell--England

'Til the End of Day

Let's tidy up the clouds, fold them all away
Hide in nature's drawers 'til the end of day
And help the wind to ease its limbs gently float on by
Then iron wrinkled creases in the big blue sky.
Let's call to the summer sun explain we want to play
Shine the cheerful yellow face, 'til the end of day.

Winters' cold, Winters' bleak and Winter lasts too long
Come on shy summer, come back where you belong
The rain and snow must go to bed, away from our sight
Let the warmth smile at us with heat so very bright.
Distant fog and freezing sleet will quickly pass away
As, swiftly nervous sun creeps in, 'til the end of day.

Linda Hurdwell is a retired lady who lives in Ascot, Berkshire, England.

Friday, June 1, 2018

Blanco--By Rick Davis--United States

Blanco

I look out the thick glass kitchen window
Admiring misty lavender eyes of late morning
And find Blanco, a neighborhood
Feral cat scratching at the sturdy security door.

I utter a short prayer
That feels like the high-tide of river
And I play with him, but explain with my eyes
That our wrinkled yard is off-limits
As he is not to attack our dog again.

I usher him from the yard
Petting him frequently
As Spring leaves already drip green.
He watches me and speaks his mind
Like a river of shadows.

I pet him through the silvery fence
Until a glistening blue hybrid car
Frightens him as he scampers
Into a bell of sunlight.

Rick Davis graduated from Northeastern Illinois University, and several graduate schools.  He is married, is from Chicago, and worked in market research and urban ministry.

JUNE ACTIVITY FEATURE INVITATION--By Jack Horne--England

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

Dear Whispers' Friends,

Our Whispers’ editorial team is looking forward to offering a wide variety of Activity Poem Invitations that we hope you will enjoy.  We hope to bring relaxing topics that writers at various levels can share in yet provide an opportunity to grow on some level too.

                                      ---Your Whispers’ Editors

CHALLENGE—Tetractys

SHADOW POETRY DEFINITION—Tetractys, a poetic form invented by Ray Stebbing, consists of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (total of 20). Tetractys can be written with more than one verse, but must follow suit with an inverted syllable count. Tetractys can also be reversed and written 10, 4, 3, 2, 1.
                              

CHALLENGE—

To write one single tetractys poem on any theme.

EXAMPLE—

Christmas Present

By Jack Horne

Some
empty
places at
the table now:
sore reminders of good times together.

I found this form very interesting and I hope you'll enjoy using it too. If you write a single or a double tetractys, we very much look forward to reading it!

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES--

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 note, we will not publish bios with activity poems.

DEADLINE: June 20