February Boredom
The February rain beats angrily against
the red, brick house,
as gray sky defies nature and seasonal change.
Lights within the house glow through the windows
like eyes with weighty curtains as lids,
a somnolent appearance, reflecting the day,
everyone's mood.
A day of nothing until time to
give thought to evening repast: pizza or
grilled cheese sandwiches?
The washing and ironing can wait, ennui
weighs heavily.
CNN and depressing news, One Life to Live--
no way!
A day to sleep and forget, join the bear
in hibernation.
Charlotte Ann Zuzak received her BA degree from Albion College and her MA from the University of Michigan in foreign languages. She taught Spanish for several years on both the high school and college levels. She has always been involved with music, namely piano and organ. Charlotte worked with voice students as an accompanist, and also as a church organist. She has been involved in writing starting in grade school when she wrote short stories and poetry. After she quit teaching she returned to her love of writing. With her husband, a retired university dean, she has traveled extensively in Europe, Russia and the United States. Charlotte and her husband have a daughter who is a medical doctor in Bethesda, Maryland.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
A Broken Monoku (form)--By Ralph Stott--England
the town sleeps at night
...........the city lives the dream.
Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters. He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
...........the city lives the dream.
Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters. He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
People Are For Lovin'--By Sara Kendrick--United States
People Are For Lovin'
Birds sing unpremeditated art
On this warm gray winter's day
People are for lovin' things are for use
Sing birds sing broadcast it don't dismay
Birds sing morn's verse, do you hear their song
Tell this new generation
Things are for use, people are for lovin'
Not to be used but for admiration
Birds sing unsung lovely melody
Unrehearsed tune in time sing
People are for lovin', things are for use
Listen hear the sound as they upswing
Birds sing back and forth to each other
When will humans ever learn
Things are for use, people are for lovin'
Maybe today is the day of turn
Sara Kendrick married young and had a family soon after. After her last child went to school, she decided to pursue her GED. A gentlemen who worked with the GED program encouraged her to enroll in college. She worked part time and cared for her family in addition to her studies. She graduated from Mercer University. Several years ago, after a health crisis, she started writing poetry.
Birds sing unpremeditated art
On this warm gray winter's day
People are for lovin' things are for use
Sing birds sing broadcast it don't dismay
Birds sing morn's verse, do you hear their song
Tell this new generation
Things are for use, people are for lovin'
Not to be used but for admiration
Birds sing unsung lovely melody
Unrehearsed tune in time sing
People are for lovin', things are for use
Listen hear the sound as they upswing
Birds sing back and forth to each other
When will humans ever learn
Things are for use, people are for lovin'
Maybe today is the day of turn
Sara Kendrick married young and had a family soon after. After her last child went to school, she decided to pursue her GED. A gentlemen who worked with the GED program encouraged her to enroll in college. She worked part time and cared for her family in addition to her studies. She graduated from Mercer University. Several years ago, after a health crisis, she started writing poetry.
Falling Rain--By Linda Hurdwell--England
Linda Hurdwell
Falling Rain
Raindrops glisten on nature's leaves
Tears from a lonely lover
I gently swab them with my sleeve
Like a tender, caring Mother
Raindrop tears inside our hearts
Cleansing all our love
Our souls are free as showers depart
With spirits from above.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
Falling Rain
Raindrops glisten on nature's leaves
Tears from a lonely lover
I gently swab them with my sleeve
Like a tender, caring Mother
Raindrop tears inside our hearts
Cleansing all our love
Our souls are free as showers depart
With spirits from above.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
haiku--By Patricia Nolan--United States
my best friend
unravels my old
slippers
************************
gleaners
empty my life - mind
yard sale
************************
August
in the deer blind
shooting film
************************
cottonwood leaves
shifting in the wind
fractals
************************
birds hear
birds answer
prayers on wings
************************
Patricia Nolan serves as coordinator for the Haiku Society of America Plains & Mountains Region. She is a member of Poetry West in Colorado Springs. She paints sumi-e (Japanese ink painting), also works in oil, pastel, and acrylic and writes poems in several Asian forms, as well as other poetry, essays, and outdoor articles. Western rivers, mountains, and trails provide most of her inspiration.
unravels my old
slippers
************************
gleaners
empty my life - mind
yard sale
************************
August
in the deer blind
shooting film
************************
cottonwood leaves
shifting in the wind
fractals
************************
birds hear
birds answer
prayers on wings
************************
Patricia Nolan serves as coordinator for the Haiku Society of America Plains & Mountains Region. She is a member of Poetry West in Colorado Springs. She paints sumi-e (Japanese ink painting), also works in oil, pastel, and acrylic and writes poems in several Asian forms, as well as other poetry, essays, and outdoor articles. Western rivers, mountains, and trails provide most of her inspiration.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Aurora--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada
Aurora
She danced across the heavens
Whirling and twirling in delight
She slid up and down creating images
With delight she colored the sky
She made no sound as she moved
She sculpted as she danced
Unique patterns unfolded
the heavens became her canvas
colors became more vibrant
Her colors changed with each breath
She danced merrily for hours on end
Until the final curtain was drawn
With the up coming dawn.
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.
She danced across the heavens
Whirling and twirling in delight
She slid up and down creating images
With delight she colored the sky
She made no sound as she moved
She sculpted as she danced
Unique patterns unfolded
the heavens became her canvas
colors became more vibrant
Her colors changed with each breath
She danced merrily for hours on end
Until the final curtain was drawn
With the up coming dawn.
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.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Irish Rover Dream--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
Irish Rover Dream
I’m a Rover from the cliffs of Dover,
My red-haired true-love I am bound to see.
I’ve traveled this land and sailed the Ocean,
Wild adventure has a strong hold on me.
Oh, wish me well lads, drink to my true-love,
Skipping through Heather waiting there for me.
I’ll find me a way to be by her side
Before it snows us in on Christmas Eve
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
I’m a Rover from the cliffs of Dover,
My red-haired true-love I am bound to see.
I’ve traveled this land and sailed the Ocean,
Wild adventure has a strong hold on me.
Oh, wish me well lads, drink to my true-love,
Skipping through Heather waiting there for me.
I’ll find me a way to be by her side
Before it snows us in on Christmas Eve
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
A Lighter Burden--By Pam H. Murray--Canada
A Lighter Burden
All those dead leaves on the lawn,
Memories of what has gone,
Gathered in a pile today.
I hope the sadness drifts away
Like mists that gather riverside
And all surprises that they hide.
I want to sit alone again
And listen to the early rain
Without the tears that we now share.
Dead leaves have fallen everywhere.
But, look, a light shines through the trees.
I feel its warmth that ends the freeze
I might not dance for joy today
But light has touched the shades of grey
And I have hope that time will be
A lighter burden touching me.
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.
All those dead leaves on the lawn,
Memories of what has gone,
Gathered in a pile today.
I hope the sadness drifts away
Like mists that gather riverside
And all surprises that they hide.
I want to sit alone again
And listen to the early rain
Without the tears that we now share.
Dead leaves have fallen everywhere.
But, look, a light shines through the trees.
I feel its warmth that ends the freeze
I might not dance for joy today
But light has touched the shades of grey
And I have hope that time will be
A lighter burden touching me.
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.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Youth--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States
Youth
Youth, ah that most beautiful butterfly. . .
evolving from chrysalis into the most
delicate creature, flitting freely to and fro,
alighting upon fragrant flowers that
capture their eyes with vibrant colors.
You don't see them attracted to fading blooms.
Most proclaim it is impossible to return to
youth—yet I see the youth of my mother
in my daughter's sweet smiling face.
If we are diligent, youth may become distilled
in the mind, captured forever by memory and
faded photographs now photo/shopped into
their once brilliant shades of black and white!
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.
Youth, ah that most beautiful butterfly. . .
evolving from chrysalis into the most
delicate creature, flitting freely to and fro,
alighting upon fragrant flowers that
capture their eyes with vibrant colors.
You don't see them attracted to fading blooms.
Most proclaim it is impossible to return to
youth—yet I see the youth of my mother
in my daughter's sweet smiling face.
If we are diligent, youth may become distilled
in the mind, captured forever by memory and
faded photographs now photo/shopped into
their once brilliant shades of black and white!
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.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Stories--By Jack Clubb--United States
Stories
My life is in the middle of its story.
I know the beginning,
But I don't yet know the ending.
I press against the pages,
I caress them,
But I still can't tell you
Much about the story itself.
Am I telling the story,
Or am I in the telling of the story?
Who are all the people I encounter?
Why did they enter my life?
What have they to do with me?
Perhaps at the end of life,
I will understand the story better,
And yet my life is only my story.
Endless stories are being told at the same time.
Our stories rub against each other,
They touch each other,
And yet each tale is separate
And complete and whole,
And in its own way, wonderful.
Jack Clubb has had short stories published in publications such as Black Creek Review, Coffee-Ground Breakfast, The Magic of Words, Northern Stars, Opinion Magazine, Rockford Review, Sunrise, The Taylor Trust, and Voices From The Valley. He has also had several hundred poems published in the United States, the United Kingdom, and India. Jack is grateful every time an editor gives one of his poems an opportunity to sing or gives him the opportunity to tell a story as he writes feverishly from his century-old house at the foot of the Silver Lake Hills in Los Angeles.
My life is in the middle of its story.
I know the beginning,
But I don't yet know the ending.
I press against the pages,
I caress them,
But I still can't tell you
Much about the story itself.
Am I telling the story,
Or am I in the telling of the story?
Who are all the people I encounter?
Why did they enter my life?
What have they to do with me?
Perhaps at the end of life,
I will understand the story better,
And yet my life is only my story.
Endless stories are being told at the same time.
Our stories rub against each other,
They touch each other,
And yet each tale is separate
And complete and whole,
And in its own way, wonderful.
Jack Clubb has had short stories published in publications such as Black Creek Review, Coffee-Ground Breakfast, The Magic of Words, Northern Stars, Opinion Magazine, Rockford Review, Sunrise, The Taylor Trust, and Voices From The Valley. He has also had several hundred poems published in the United States, the United Kingdom, and India. Jack is grateful every time an editor gives one of his poems an opportunity to sing or gives him the opportunity to tell a story as he writes feverishly from his century-old house at the foot of the Silver Lake Hills in Los Angeles.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Senryu--By Joseph S. Spence, Sr.--United States
Senryu
Grits, bacon, eggs, tea…
Thanks I give for you and me;
Hot home biscuits?—Wow!
Joseph S. Spence, Sr. is the author of The Awakened One Poetics, and co-author of two other poetry books. The Awakened One Poetics won 2nd place in the Critters Writers Workshop 2009 Best Author’s Pool. Spence invented the Epulaeryu Poetry. His writings have appeared in numerous anthologies. He is a Goodwill Ambassador for the state of Arkansas, and is a recipient of the 2006 Poetry Ambassador Medal from The International Library of Poetry. He is a member of various honor societies. www.TheAwakenedOnePoetics.Com.
Grits, bacon, eggs, tea…
Thanks I give for you and me;
Hot home biscuits?—Wow!
Joseph S. Spence, Sr. is the author of The Awakened One Poetics, and co-author of two other poetry books. The Awakened One Poetics won 2nd place in the Critters Writers Workshop 2009 Best Author’s Pool. Spence invented the Epulaeryu Poetry. His writings have appeared in numerous anthologies. He is a Goodwill Ambassador for the state of Arkansas, and is a recipient of the 2006 Poetry Ambassador Medal from The International Library of Poetry. He is a member of various honor societies. www.TheAwakenedOnePoetics.Com.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Spend Time--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands
Spend Time
The most important expenditure is time
So don’t be afraid to make it
It doesn’t cost you anything
It’s absolutely free
So make and spend
It liberally
Together with loved ones
On holiday just sat
Or at home quietly
Taking time to chat
Making moments to treasure
Spending time is all it will take
On this most important expenditure
That won’t the bank break
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s 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.
The most important expenditure is time
So don’t be afraid to make it
It doesn’t cost you anything
It’s absolutely free
So make and spend
It liberally
Together with loved ones
On holiday just sat
Or at home quietly
Taking time to chat
Making moments to treasure
Spending time is all it will take
On this most important expenditure
That won’t the bank break
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s 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.
Editor's note--Patricia Ann Farnsworth (APF Publisher) has designed and
published many books for others. She published both Snippets and
Whispers. She is also the owner of The Writers and Poetry Alliance.
Thank you Patricia for all you do for others in the writing
community.
Winter’s Storm--By Yvonne Sparkes--England
Winter’s Storm
How silently the snowflakes fall,
In darkness they appeared,
New winter blankets, white and tall,
Each plant wears hat and beard.
A covering like fondant cream,
Whipped by those winds on high
An Angel cake, that looks serene,
Without the wings to fly.
Silence covers all the land,
now that the winds have ceased,
And where the snow has blown and lands,
The rifts, like waves, have creased.
On virgin snow, no footprints lay,
Where man and beast have pressed,
Soon with the onset of new day,
Are patterns all have dressed.
The dream of nature’s canvas new,
One cold, dark, winter’s night,
Shows she alone is artist true,
Gives joy for man’s delight.
Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes, immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents. She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons. She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images. A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain. She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.
How silently the snowflakes fall,
In darkness they appeared,
New winter blankets, white and tall,
Each plant wears hat and beard.
A covering like fondant cream,
Whipped by those winds on high
An Angel cake, that looks serene,
Without the wings to fly.
Silence covers all the land,
now that the winds have ceased,
And where the snow has blown and lands,
The rifts, like waves, have creased.
On virgin snow, no footprints lay,
Where man and beast have pressed,
Soon with the onset of new day,
Are patterns all have dressed.
The dream of nature’s canvas new,
One cold, dark, winter’s night,
Shows she alone is artist true,
Gives joy for man’s delight.
Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes, immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents. She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons. She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images. A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain. She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Gift of Words--By Karen O'Leary--United States
Gift of Words
bright
views
connect
poetry friends,
entwining
their lives with hope
Thank you to everyone that has contributed poetry and commented on others' poems. I appreciate your help in making Whispers the encouraging site I hope it will be. Best wishes to all of you with all your writing endeavors.---Sincerely, Karen
Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND. Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues. She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher. Their second project, Snippets...an anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012. Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.
bright
views
connect
poetry friends,
entwining
their lives with hope
Thank you to everyone that has contributed poetry and commented on others' poems. I appreciate your help in making Whispers the encouraging site I hope it will be. Best wishes to all of you with all your writing endeavors.---Sincerely, Karen
Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND. Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues. She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher. Their second project, Snippets...an anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012. Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Hesitation at the Iris--By Debra J. Harmes-Kurth-- United States
Hesitation at the Iris
It’s not how dusty are the feet
that move in dance when souls meet;
nor aged feathers lost from wings,
but ancient quill that softly sings
hinting of hidden magic things.
As falling leaf upon the bank
sits and rots where cities sank;
stars fly through the cosmic gate,
as drops of dew on iris wait
for one to stop and hesitate.
It’s not a song that's heard by all
for few know it's quiet call
of gentle muse or ash that's charred,
this path so long and often hard
'tis but the journey of the bard.
Debra J. Harmes-Kurth currently resides in Milton, West Virginia. Debra was owner/editor of the poetry quarterly Art With Words, and writes a weekly column on poetry for two local newspapers since July, 2004. Most recently published in the Cabell Record, Putnam Democrat, Art With Words, HeArts Desire, HerStory, New Beginnings, Mobïus, Coal a Poetry Anthology, complied by Chris Green of Marshall University, and printed by Blair Mountain Press, Porter Gulch Review, New Beginnings, HIMS, The Moon, and was the featured writer in Digging an Eclectic Poetry Anthology.
It’s not how dusty are the feet
that move in dance when souls meet;
nor aged feathers lost from wings,
but ancient quill that softly sings
hinting of hidden magic things.
As falling leaf upon the bank
sits and rots where cities sank;
stars fly through the cosmic gate,
as drops of dew on iris wait
for one to stop and hesitate.
It’s not a song that's heard by all
for few know it's quiet call
of gentle muse or ash that's charred,
this path so long and often hard
'tis but the journey of the bard.
Debra J. Harmes-Kurth currently resides in Milton, West Virginia. Debra was owner/editor of the poetry quarterly Art With Words, and writes a weekly column on poetry for two local newspapers since July, 2004. Most recently published in the Cabell Record, Putnam Democrat, Art With Words, HeArts Desire, HerStory, New Beginnings, Mobïus, Coal a Poetry Anthology, complied by Chris Green of Marshall University, and printed by Blair Mountain Press, Porter Gulch Review, New Beginnings, HIMS, The Moon, and was the featured writer in Digging an Eclectic Poetry Anthology.
On a Winter’s Night--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States
On a Winter’s Night
I love walking in Nature’s silence,
On a winter’s night
Where moonbeams paste shadows
Across stretches of white…
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.
I love walking in Nature’s silence,
On a winter’s night
Where moonbeams paste shadows
Across stretches of white…
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.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Nature's Hiccups--By Anna-Marie Docherty--Wales
Nature's Hiccups
I thought I heard a hiccup
From a pigeon in my vine
Then noticed first the white grapes
Then the red we use for wine
Had disappeared without a trace
Though yesterday at tea
They were fat juicy round and sweet
Ready to be picked today by me
Then as I studied further
It was to my surprise
I found several berry drunk pigeons
Cooing right before my eyes!
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.
I thought I heard a hiccup
From a pigeon in my vine
Then noticed first the white grapes
Then the red we use for wine
Had disappeared without a trace
Though yesterday at tea
They were fat juicy round and sweet
Ready to be picked today by me
Then as I studied further
It was to my surprise
I found several berry drunk pigeons
Cooing right before my eyes!
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.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Catch 22--By Brian Strand--England
Catch 22
a window pane shatters
nobody makes a home run
Poetry Form--Spaces:
Spaces is an Imagist form with an 'unwritten middle line', left to the reader's
imagination to complete.
Brian Strand has created short poetic forms including 'broken monoku' (a
haiku variation) and 'footle' (a trochaic monometer with witty, topical, etc themes)
and Captioned Cartoon, an Ekphrasis combining his art and poetic interests. He has published a seven kindle ebook series Poetic forms; A Strand of Verse; My Choice Strand Verse; A Strand Guide; Christianity Explained; A Strand critique; and Captioned Cartoon Ekphrasis. Brian has written nearly 200 Amazon reviews and is a Wiki poetry and art editor.
a window pane shatters
nobody makes a home run
Poetry Form--Spaces:
Spaces is an Imagist form with an 'unwritten middle line', left to the reader's
imagination to complete.
Brian Strand has created short poetic forms including 'broken monoku' (a
haiku variation) and 'footle' (a trochaic monometer with witty, topical, etc themes)
and Captioned Cartoon, an Ekphrasis combining his art and poetic interests. He has published a seven kindle ebook series Poetic forms; A Strand of Verse; My Choice Strand Verse; A Strand Guide; Christianity Explained; A Strand critique; and Captioned Cartoon Ekphrasis. Brian has written nearly 200 Amazon reviews and is a Wiki poetry and art editor.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Cairns Library--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand
Cairns Library
The man is looking for a book
With eyes keenly flicking
Across the myriad rows
His shirt is soaked in the intense heat
He looks at me
The look I know so well
Stating so clearly that the
wanted book has yet to be composed
I say to him not only has it not
been written : it is not yet conceived
There's no-one alive who knows
Except myself and thee
And we are both shadows
With no reality.
No flesh. No blood
No bones. No guts
No, go and pray now
Return in one hundred years
For the first page
Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia. She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published.
The man is looking for a book
With eyes keenly flicking
Across the myriad rows
His shirt is soaked in the intense heat
He looks at me
The look I know so well
Stating so clearly that the
wanted book has yet to be composed
I say to him not only has it not
been written : it is not yet conceived
There's no-one alive who knows
Except myself and thee
And we are both shadows
With no reality.
No flesh. No blood
No bones. No guts
No, go and pray now
Return in one hundred years
For the first page
Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia. She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published.
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