Saturday, March 17, 2018

Just for You--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

Just for You

I want to be everything
you want me to be;
I want to instill in your heart
a gentle love,
inseparable and fulfilling. . . .
I want to be by your side,
forever strong and caring. . . .
And when we will have grown older,
I hope your eyes sparkle as they do now,
and the warmth of your affectionate smile
stirs my heart as deeply. . . .
And, whatever the future brings,
I hope this heartfelt love
will be graced by God,
strengthened and sustained,
in this journey toward eternal victory.

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.

Whispers from Above--By Mysti S. Milwee--United States

Whispers from Above

Your sweet embrace is light upon my face,
as I look into your eyes - my angel of love
sent from heaven above: our faces glow
by His light and love, surrounded by His glory
as angelic love is found within - swirling
in the light wind while our hearts dance
within the breeze, angelic arms holding
each other tight, warm embrace in His light -
growing in spirit; trust grows deeper and hearts
grow stronger proclaiming peace and strength
within wings of doves and eagles in flight;
a sacrifice of souls breaking free
and darkness fades into the depth of the valley,
light overshadows the fire converging souls
in unity speaking love and soft whispers
in the zephyr as the journey begins here -
don't live life in fear.

Mysti S. Milwee is an international published (Synesthesia ) artist, and published poet from Southside, Alabama. Her art and poetry has appeared in numerous magazines, anthologies worldwide. Her work appeared in Hidden Constellation; PPP Ezine; GloMag; Birmingham Arts Journal; The Mountain Press; The Alabama Baptist; & Illustrator Magazine to name a few.

Friday, March 16, 2018

Thoughts From Whispers' Activity Features Editor--By Jack Horne--England

Dear Whispers’ Family,

I hope, like me, you find being part of our Whispers community rewarding. I wonder how many of you also belong to local writing groups. 

Giving and receiving feedback is a crucial part of the learning process. Constructive advice can be incredibly helpful, seeing how and why someone else's poetry works can be enlightening. 

I joined the Waterfront Writers group here in Plymouth, England some years ago. It helped me in many ways - but most notably to overcome my shyness of reading aloud in public. My first attempt at an Open Mic Night was nerve-racking. Afterwards, I wondered why I'd been so scared.

With local writing groups, the friendships forged and experience of writing with others is a growing experience. If you haven't tried collaborative writing, don't be shy - give it a go! I hope you'll all be part of Whispers for many years to come.


Jack Horne
Whisper’ Activity Feature Editor

The ivy covered house--By Lloyd Wayne Russell--United States

The ivy covered house

German town ancient cobbles
scattered down the pathways
of our fading past
and the beams creak
the walls crumble
a wooden floor that moans
even when the ghost refuses
to stroll upon its fading grandeur
An awkwardly snapped photo
the lone man continues his quest
a lonely life journey unravels before him
he wanders on
the cat attempts to make a quick breakfast
of a bird perched upon the rickety fence
the bird soars
the cat retreats sheepishly

Lloyd Wayne Russell is a creative writer and amateur photographer from Tampa, Florida. Wayne's work has been published in many journals and magazines, in The Literary Hatchet, Black Poppy Review, PPP Ezine to name a few. He's the founder of  Degenerate Literature, which is recently gone into a temporary hiatus.

In gratitude for a certain amnesia--By Feby Joseph--India

In gratitude for a certain amnesia

We walked the dusk lit evening fields
The silver drops of dew that yields.
Far beneath the midnight due
The sun was setting in orange hue.

We’d met with promises to keep all days
Knowing at dawn we’d go our ways
But by dawn, those lies were done
Our pasts were wiped out by the sun.

Bound by ethereal threads we now,
as the seasons coax the leaves from the bough,
Watch at dusk for the stars that twitter.
Parting with past-memories was never sweeter!

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. Explanation of Feby for using the word 'twitter'  - because I like to think of stars in the night like birds that at the end of the day twitter in trees - the night scapes as a large tree and the stars as twittering birds. 

Better world (double triodyne)--By Yancy Dalton--United States

Better world (double triodyne

"Build a better world", God said.

I asked, “How? Useless & small I am.
There is nothing I can do."

But God, in all his wisdom said,
"You can do something.
Just build a better you."

Yancy Dalton grew up on a cattle ranch riding, roping and branding calves. He started writing poetry after college, church mission and marriage.  When he first started writing online, the name "Yancy" was often taken for a girl's name. So, he made up a pen name to progress as a poet called "Knight Writer."

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

haiku--By Claudia Messelodi--Italy

muffled voices -
on the roads of March
snow again

the night shades -
in the field of almonds trees
the first blossom

night falls -
on the wings of the wind
ancient melodies

bare cliff -
motionless hover
white seagulls

snowflakes -
in the evening quietness
veiled eyes

Claudia Messelodi lives in Italy, she works as a foreign language teacher at a secondary school. She's the author of seven poetry collections and one literary essay. She loves writing haiku and other short forms of poetry both in English and Italian. Her poetry has appeared in many anthologies and publications.

A Lesson Learned--By Colan L. Hiatt--United States

A Lesson Learned

As I lay awake at breaking dawn
A new day makes its debut 
Yesterday is but a memory 
Just now  - problems are very few 

In the stillness of the atmosphere 
I contemplate what lies ahead 
Opportunities are mine to claim 
Before another day has fled

In the distance, birds are chirping 
That's how they chose to greet the day 
Is here a lesson to be learned 
Is their outlook the proper way

Perhaps if priorities are aligned 
To begin each day with a smile 
The negative would be minimized
Many problems we could reconcile 

Lord, help me attain a better view 
Of situations that I face 
May a lesson from the little birds 
In my plans, - - find a place           

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.

Monday, March 12, 2018

Inquiry--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States


The three year old full of questions
asks his grandmother with dementia,

Why do all the people here have white hair?
Can I sit in your wheelchair?
Is this orange juice in your pouch?

Which question would you like me to answer first?

I forgot, Grandma.

Me, too.

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

Tears of the War--By Dr. Upma A. Sharma--India

Tears of the War

In pure love entwined,
The knittings of a mother.
Through icy cold winds,
Embrace child's subtle being,
As warmth shows on rosy cheeks.

Tears flow silently.
Pride digs deep into the heart.
Dare you defy grief.
Bravery etched in gold.
Mortals are now immortal.

To lifetime's essence,
Memories freeze in aeon,
Stay alive in epoch.
Interim generations,
Can needles of the clock rewind?

Passion for poetry can enthuse anyone, Dr. Upma A. Sharma has proved this so well. A doctor by profession, 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. A purposeful expression of emotions and thoughts, positive words certainly are a way to serenity.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Pure Breath--By Ruth C. Rehberg--United States

Pure Breath

I wonder how mist
stirs itself, rises and moves?
It is an intake of pure breath
lifted from the drab earth,
like visual evidence
of spirit.

So unhurried,
meditative, in a slow dance
with damp, luminous air.

A creation of stealth
and complete patience.

Beauty, I think,
must be its earthly name;
maybe known as Grace,
up in the heavenlies.*

Shining, dazzling
the eye with clarified pain,
to open them by spirit
power to see—

mist, a ghostly glory.

*( author’s note: 'in the heavenlies'  means 'heavenly places'.)

Ruth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Surrender to Spring (Monorhyme)--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States

Surrender to Spring (Monorhyme)

The majesty of pine trees heavy laden with snow
Sparkle in dawn's dappled light with a glistening glow.
Monumental mountaintops survey valleys down below
Dwelling in the snow's melt enchanted rippling rivers flow.
Spring's early footsteps lead to where the gardens grow.
Soon daffodils and tulips will display a springtime show.

He loved the majesty of pine trees showered in snow.
We watched dawn's dappled light with a glistening glow,
And skied from mountaintop to the valley down below.
We marveled as snow melted into rippling river's flow
And walked amidst the garden as spring coaxed it to grow.
We married while bright tulips put on a springtime show!

Connie Marcum Wong has been the Web Mistress of a private poetry forum Poetry for Thought since October 1999. Her poetry has been in many publications, anthologies, magazines, and e-zines over the years. She published her first poetry chapbook, Island Creations in 2005. In 2007, Heart Blossoms was published. In January 2010, an anthology, A Poetry Bridge to All Nations, was published by Lulu Enterprises, Inc.Connie created the 'Constanza' poetry form in 2007 and Con-Verse form in 2010. She has resided with her husband in Hawaii since 1980.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Release--By Jack Waller--Canada


A pervasive sense of longing
for a time when solitude will return.
Days are spent seeking a presence.
The one who feeds the soul.
I need not question how or when,
as the answer lies with the one
who is the source,
Whom was, is, and will
bring rest to a weary soul.
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.

A Glimpse of The Ineffable--By Shannon Kelly--United States

A Glimpse of The Ineffable 

Navigating home, I see His finger touch
The clouds above, illuminating the sky
In a magnificent array of gold and periwinkle
Light orbiting the Son, settling on my path
I drift through blessed clouds
Unable to see the road
Regardless, I trust the golden glow
Solace sings triumph beyond the mystified fog
Adversity thrives only when fed
A journey lies ahead
Not easily traversed
But I cherish each step
In every breath
I absorb my space and time
For it matters not what lay ahead through the fog
I trust
That a nurtured present
Will reap well beyond what I can touch

Shannon Kelly is a Sophomore at the University of South Florida where she studies Psychology, German, Creative Writing, and Theater. She enjoys writing poetry, short stories, and novels.

Friday, March 9, 2018

Meaning’s Heft--By Ed Higgins--United States

Meaning’s Heft

The heft-weight of truth-seeking 
presses in on all our fond

and fearful dreams, 
close enough to touch.

Meaning as this brown bat 
at midnight alighting

on cactus flowers, 
eating nectar and pollen.

Of course, you don’t want 
truth’s meaning landing

in your hair by mistake. 
Be alert to certain limits.

Ed Higgins' poems and short fiction have appeared in various print and online journals including recently: Peacock Journal, Uut Poetry, Triggerfish Critical Review, and Tigershark Magazine, among others. Ed teaches at George Fox University, south of Portland, Oregon. He is also Asst. Fiction Editor for Ireland-based Brilliant Flash Fiction.

Alexandrines--By Arthur Turfa--United States


Eyes shining like the sun, hair somewhat covering
them in dense undergrowth, Helios hovering,
bathing me in soft light, as I extend my hands
tenderly towards her. She and I understand
nothing else can exist, except for her and I,
lingering together, under a cloudless sky.
Luscious the countenance that she presents to me.
My hands caress her curls, they glisten with the dew.
Two lives becoming one, my heart longing for you. 

*(Editor’s Note—Alexandrine--a verse or line of poetry of twelve syllables.)

Arthur Turfa lives in South Carolina, but his poetry reflects the many places where he has lived or traveled.  His next book, Saluda Reflections, comes out from Finishing Line Press in June 2018. He has two other books of published poetry.

Thursday, March 8, 2018

Unbroken--By Bruce Mundhenke--United States


Winter eventually comes,
Summer can never stay,
The harvest is in the storehouse,
The leaves are blown away.
The earth has made its circle,
Once more around the sun.
Autumn didn’t linger,
The cold once more has come.
Spring will bring back what once was,
Never really gone,
Forever, is there renewal.
Never meant to be undone.

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.

Soulmates--By Allan Ball--England


It began with a glance
Just a hint of a smile

Slight blushing of cheeks
That lingered a while

A moment in time
One you'll never forget

A serendipitous chance
It was destined we met

The passionate embrace
Causing my heart to ignite

That flame of desire
Still burns with delight

Twenty years later
The embers all glow

All because of a glance
I noticed, so long ago.

Allan Ball has retired from a career in the Banking and Financial sector. Writing is both peaceful and rewarding, the written word allows our hearts to speak. His poems have been published in Anthologies.

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Because--By Mary Jo Balistreri--United States


Orioles in day-glo orange
trill the dawn of a new morning

Snowdrops rise early
green the air in fragrance

The sun’s warm breath
stirs fat buds to yield

Tree frogs lusty courting
sing a song of change

Forsythia’s yellow dress
quickens winter hearts

The subtle scent of lilacs
dabs the air in violet

The soft night sky
haloes the hillside in starscape

Because everything changes
Because everything stays the same

Spring returns

Mary Jo Balistreri was a concert pianist for most of her life and turned to poetry in 2005 when her seven-year-old grandson died. Music could not give witness to the child's life the way poetry could and poetry helped in the way it provided a container for emotions that otherwise were overwhelming. Mary Jo has been writing ever since. For more information, please visit her at

Momma's Boy/Dad's Little Man--By James Dean Chase--United States

Momma's Boy/Dad's Little Man    

Momma's Boy could seldom cry,
unless tears were in her eye.
He was his Dad's Little Man
facing fears until they ran.

Momma's Boy could seldom cry.
He was his Dad's Little Man.

Rough, tough, strong and agile child,
riding horses - tame and wild.
Whenever Life made him fall,
he got back up - proud and tall.

Momma's Boy could seldom cry.
He was his Dad's Little Man.

Through heights and tribulations
- some slights and salutations,
Momma's Boy/Dad's Little Man
learned to be a gentle man.

Momma's Boy/Dad's Little Man
was himself - a Gentleman.

James Dean Chase is a Mixed Anglo/Native American Indian writer, poet and artist, born and raised in Texas. He has traveled "the seven seas", and spent six years in the American Navy. James has been writing since the age of 5. Unfortunately, all of his writings before age 16 are lost. Many of his articles, columns, poetry and short stories have been published.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Gert Knop—Germany, Jack Horne—England and Inge Wesdijk (Daginne Aignend)—The Netherlands


By Gert Knop—Germany, Jack Horne—England
and Inge Wesdijk (Daginne Aignend)—The Netherlands

The beautiful world
is small,
only a grain of sand
on a vast beach of loneliness.
At the horizon
of our dreams
shine splendid stars,
but sadly                      
they are                
unreachable far   
Still, we believe
we can touch those stars.       
Each soul strives
to reach them,                        
yet few will ever come close.
Though dreams can carry us 
ever higher,
into the impossible realm,
the place where 
anything can happen

Bright, black and white,
flows into darker dreams ...
A sudden scintillation
of glistering candles, reflecting
minuscule kaleidoscopic
rainbow droplets, revives
the spirit while asleep.
Awakes the mind
in a new morning
of light

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Late December--By John Grey--United States

Late December

Today sits on my lap,
its wood against my chest.

The year is all strummed out,
time to replace these dull guitar strings.

The melody remains,
sweet, blue and a kiss of air

but the instrument is tarnished,
its steel rusted

and I hear such longing
in December's chords.

John Grey is an Australian poet, United States resident.  Recently published in Examined Life, Studio One and Colombia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.

Breaking Things--By Valentina Cano--United States

Breaking Things

I’ve decided to let this be.
Not with the collapse of wings
or the nailhead snapped off
at a bend too far,
but with the vibrating haunches
of a cat, interrupted.
With the beat of the sun
across its own black prison.

Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time she has either reading or writing. Her works have appeared in numerous publications. Her debut novel, The Rose Master, was published in 2014 and was called a "strong and satisfying effort" by Publishers Weekly.

Monday, March 5, 2018

Solace--By Luke Samra--United States


I can't explain it
But she sings like spring
Like an arpeggio as key for
Deliverance from winter--
The vocals condensate the air
Lifts in foggy evaporation;
As my ears awake from hibernation. 

Luke Samra is originally from Kalamazoo, MI. His work appears in: The Tipton Poetry Journal, FishFood Magazine, The Charleston Anvil, Local Gems Press (Bards Against Hunger), Hedge Apple and Flying Island. Luke is a musician and tennis instructor.

Hesitation--By Paul Callus--Malta


the old valentine card
in my drawer
the one
I never found
the courage to send

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.

Haiku--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

botanical gardens
she wants names of all colors
not on her chart

tiger lilies
generations of grandmothers
passing down seeds

Indian springs . . .
following meadowlark song
to the wildflowers

surrounding the sites
of burned cabins . .  .
daffodils and yucca 

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.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

Journal Entry--By Stefanie Bennett--Australia

Journal Entry      
It’s no illusion:
That Pavarotti
While she works
An ochre
And red
        One shy
At a time.

Stefanie Bennett, ex-blues singer & musician, has published several
books of poetry, a novel & a libretto, & worked with Arts Action For Peace.
Of mixed ancestry [Irish/Italian/Paugussett-Shawnee] she has tutored at
The Institute of Modern Languages – Cook University. Stefanie was born
in Queensland, Australia in 1945.

Interruption--By Lois Greene Stone--United States


Snowbelt living with lake-effect, grey skies, 
frigid numbers recorded on a thermometer. 
Brief break in the bleak sky and the sun 
bathes a window pane;
the unusual pattern of a 
clinging snowflake warms the space.

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.

Poetry--By Gert W. Knop--Germany

From a beech tree
a rustling of the leaves
storm approaches fast

The song of a lark 
very slowly fading 
after a summer rain

Quiet afternoon
teardrops fall silently
from memories

Cold drizzle
falling from low clouds
in a restless night

Lively vole
yesterday at the roadside
escape under leaves

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.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

No Longer a Swinger--By Michael Lee Johnson--United States

No Longer a Swinger

This painted cat
on my balcony
hangs in this sun,
bleaches out
it's wooden
survival kit,
cut short-
then rots
widen in joints,
no infant sparrow wings  
nestled in this hole
beneath its neck-
then falls down.
No longer a swinger
in latter days, August wind.

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada. Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois. Mr. Johnson is published in numerous publications, his poems have appeared in 35 countries, he edits, publishes 10 different poetry sites