A Quiet Friendship
Some people have a real loud friendship,
They want the world to know that they have friends,
They invite themselves into everyone’s life,
They demand a lot,
But they give so little,
When the chips are down,
They’re out the door,
Some people have a quiet friendship,
They keep their love for you deep inside,
They don’t impose or make any demands,
They give a lot and never ask any questions,
When times are rough,
They are there to give affection,
A loud friendship does not thrive,
A quiet friendship will always survive.
Celine Rose Mariotti is an accomplished writer whose work has appeared in magazines all over the USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Australia and India. Some of those magazines include: Green’s Magazine, Poet’s Review, Poet’s Art, Tombigbee, Hindu Young World, Magnolia Quarterly, Lone Stars Magazine, Pablo Lennis, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Pink Chameleon and many more. She has had six books published. She plays the guitar and banjo; has her own home business and lives with her family in Shelton,CT.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Why?--By Jan Henson--Turkey
Why?
I found them in a dusty box
In the darkness under the stairs
I’d forgotten all about them
And the memories that are theirs
To look upon first love’s sweet bloom
Made my heart quicken in it’s beat
And colour to my old cheeks return
In a rush of reddened heat
My eyes saw how handsome you were
And the smile that lit your brown eyes
The wedding day of such sweet joy
Remembered with regret’s deep sigh
If only I could reach you now
To tell of love’s rekindled plight
Perchance you could savour it too
In a dream for a lonely night
Looking back is all I can do
As forward time marches by
With it to the future I walk
Always asking myself ‘Why?’
Jan Henson has written poetry for a few years. She finds it an enjoyable experience. When she attended school in England (in the ‘50’s) poetry seemed such a dry medium and she wasn’t all that impressed. After school, she became a hairdresser and continued the profession after her marriage and birth of her four children. When her youngest was three, she started working nights at a nursing home. She realized her passion for the profession and became a nurse. She worked in the healthcare industry for 20 years. After her children were grown, she retired to Turkey where she currently lives.
I found them in a dusty box
In the darkness under the stairs
I’d forgotten all about them
And the memories that are theirs
To look upon first love’s sweet bloom
Made my heart quicken in it’s beat
And colour to my old cheeks return
In a rush of reddened heat
My eyes saw how handsome you were
And the smile that lit your brown eyes
The wedding day of such sweet joy
Remembered with regret’s deep sigh
If only I could reach you now
To tell of love’s rekindled plight
Perchance you could savour it too
In a dream for a lonely night
Looking back is all I can do
As forward time marches by
With it to the future I walk
Always asking myself ‘Why?’
Jan Henson has written poetry for a few years. She finds it an enjoyable experience. When she attended school in England (in the ‘50’s) poetry seemed such a dry medium and she wasn’t all that impressed. After school, she became a hairdresser and continued the profession after her marriage and birth of her four children. When her youngest was three, she started working nights at a nursing home. She realized her passion for the profession and became a nurse. She worked in the healthcare industry for 20 years. After her children were grown, she retired to Turkey where she currently lives.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Rainbow Treasures--By David Fox--United States
Rainbow Treasures
Follow a rainbow and see where it takes you
See what luck it brings,
Wealth, maybe a pot of gold
Or many other wonderful things
Leprechauns, magical elves,
Maybe a fairy or sprite,
But the best thing at the end of a rainbow
Is a beautiful, colorful light
Look really quick before it fades away
But if you miss it, don't worry,
Another one will come someday!
David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry. He is currently accepting work for the January 2014 issue. Contact him at ipoetdavid@gmail.com for more information.
Follow a rainbow and see where it takes you
See what luck it brings,
Wealth, maybe a pot of gold
Or many other wonderful things
Leprechauns, magical elves,
Maybe a fairy or sprite,
But the best thing at the end of a rainbow
Is a beautiful, colorful light
Look really quick before it fades away
But if you miss it, don't worry,
Another one will come someday!
David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry. He is currently accepting work for the January 2014 issue. Contact him at ipoetdavid@gmail.com for more information.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Summer--By David Austin--United States
Summer………
Ah, what music north.
Lay out on summer at last.
Pipe the first faint break of cloud and air.
Pipe the heated rotten,
the over sweetened bloom.
Pipe the soothing heat in summer’s name.
Lay out on summer’s depth,
bass along the wetted spine….
How fancy o’erspills its frame outward
And every drowsy glance is eternity.
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
Ah, what music north.
Lay out on summer at last.
Pipe the first faint break of cloud and air.
Pipe the heated rotten,
the over sweetened bloom.
Pipe the soothing heat in summer’s name.
Lay out on summer’s depth,
bass along the wetted spine….
How fancy o’erspills its frame outward
And every drowsy glance is eternity.
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
The Wave--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States
The Wave
The wave begins to form,
rising higher and higher
until it reaches its peak.
I watch in awe as it howls
in the wind,
ready to make a great impact.
It moves swiftly,
but begins to transcend,
decreasing little by little
until all that’s left of the
mighty wave comes gliding
onto the shore, kissing the tips
of my toes and then
the entirety of my feet.
So peaceful….
Ready to experience
it all again.
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: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
The wave begins to form,
rising higher and higher
until it reaches its peak.
I watch in awe as it howls
in the wind,
ready to make a great impact.
It moves swiftly,
but begins to transcend,
decreasing little by little
until all that’s left of the
mighty wave comes gliding
onto the shore, kissing the tips
of my toes and then
the entirety of my feet.
So peaceful….
Ready to experience
it all again.
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: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Photograph of a Red Wood Stump -- in Sepia--By Suzanne Delaney--United States
Photograph of a Red Wood Stump -- in Sepia
“The Stump Hotel,” has made a natural beauty look inglorious.
Like an amputee whose prosthesis could never recapture the
living limb or a whisper of its vitality.
A metal balustrade now mocks the space
where its trunk once soared toward the moon,
and the long stairway, and a sign and a doorway,
are fashioned from – the remains of a brother tree.
There is no answer for this desecration, but to make lightly of it.
Someone will lampoon and build a monument, to what?
Man’s stupidity, or perhaps this final mockery.
Making use of it all
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. A resident of Hawaii, USA she was born in Tasmania. She now has time to pursue her passion for writing poetry, creating collages and for traveling.
“The Stump Hotel,” has made a natural beauty look inglorious.
Like an amputee whose prosthesis could never recapture the
living limb or a whisper of its vitality.
A metal balustrade now mocks the space
where its trunk once soared toward the moon,
and the long stairway, and a sign and a doorway,
are fashioned from – the remains of a brother tree.
There is no answer for this desecration, but to make lightly of it.
Someone will lampoon and build a monument, to what?
Man’s stupidity, or perhaps this final mockery.
Making use of it all
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. A resident of Hawaii, USA she was born in Tasmania. She now has time to pursue her passion for writing poetry, creating collages and for traveling.
Having a Fling--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands
Having a Fling
(Constanza)
At the end of day when stars shine
Up in the sky with moon aglow
Love inside me truly does flow
I thank the Lord for all what’s mine
Here on this earth where I abide
Knowing He’s the eternal guide
For loving family divine
With hearts showing warmth never cold
For both the youngest and the old
That is so happy to entwine
To face if need be mountain climb
Altogether at any time
On occasions to make life fine
We laugh and party, dance and sing
Letting hair down to have a fling!
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.
(Constanza)
At the end of day when stars shine
Up in the sky with moon aglow
Love inside me truly does flow
I thank the Lord for all what’s mine
Here on this earth where I abide
Knowing He’s the eternal guide
For loving family divine
With hearts showing warmth never cold
For both the youngest and the old
That is so happy to entwine
To face if need be mountain climb
Altogether at any time
On occasions to make life fine
We laugh and party, dance and sing
Letting hair down to have a fling!
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.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Magic Dances On--By Karen O'Leary--United States
Magic Dances On
Words whisper
in the misty
forest of ideas.
Future poems flit
like butterflies,
often tumbling
without reason.
These wildflowers
are gladly gathered
by the artist
to map a trail.
Starlight brightens
the journey.
In a serene den
by the fireplace,
her pen flows freely.
An increasing resume
gives the poet courage
to share her song.
Thank you to all the talented artists that have shared their words at Whispers. May your magic continue to dance on. I appreciate the efforts of many that are making this site a writing community. Blessings to everyone! ---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.
Words whisper
in the misty
forest of ideas.
Future poems flit
like butterflies,
often tumbling
without reason.
These wildflowers
are gladly gathered
by the artist
to map a trail.
Starlight brightens
the journey.
In a serene den
by the fireplace,
her pen flows freely.
An increasing resume
gives the poet courage
to share her song.
Thank you to all the talented artists that have shared their words at Whispers. May your magic continue to dance on. I appreciate the efforts of many that are making this site a writing community. Blessings to everyone! ---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.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Wild Onion--By Joann Grisetti--United States
Wild Onion
Wild onion, the scent of which
tints the air, a late afternoon
prior to dusk and dinner
she must go in to cook soon.
Right now she enjoys the fragrance
of new mown lawns, honeybees
dancing directions, humming
a soft tune, hugging her knees
loosely with sun-warm elbows,
distracted by thoughts of shorelines
and vacations soon over.
The harvest looms, seasons decline
into winter work, slower action;
no more teasing scent of wild onion.
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
Wild onion, the scent of which
tints the air, a late afternoon
prior to dusk and dinner
she must go in to cook soon.
Right now she enjoys the fragrance
of new mown lawns, honeybees
dancing directions, humming
a soft tune, hugging her knees
loosely with sun-warm elbows,
distracted by thoughts of shorelines
and vacations soon over.
The harvest looms, seasons decline
into winter work, slower action;
no more teasing scent of wild onion.
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
The Power of Dreams--By Donna Wallace--United States
The Power of Dreams
When your dreams are hard to follow
and your heart's been led astray
When the bitter truth is hard to swallow
and your heartbreak seems to stay.
When your world and all that was in it
seems to have crumbled at your feet
When your teardrops form an ocean
and your mind's filled with defeat.
That's the time to find your courage
knowing that love will find its way
Soon the hard climb will all be over
and love will, one day, come to stay.
You must find the strength inside you
through your broken-hearted screams
find the eternal hope that lives inside you
believing in the power of your dreams...
Donna Wallace is a writer from Katy, TX.
When your dreams are hard to follow
and your heart's been led astray
When the bitter truth is hard to swallow
and your heartbreak seems to stay.
When your world and all that was in it
seems to have crumbled at your feet
When your teardrops form an ocean
and your mind's filled with defeat.
That's the time to find your courage
knowing that love will find its way
Soon the hard climb will all be over
and love will, one day, come to stay.
You must find the strength inside you
through your broken-hearted screams
find the eternal hope that lives inside you
believing in the power of your dreams...
Donna Wallace is a writer from Katy, TX.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
To Drain the Pain--By Yancy Dalton--United States
To Drain the Pain
Folks go insane trying to drain that pain
A pill popping, trumped pain relief chain
Doctor prescribed codeine, a relief cane
Ritalining up active kids, to calm a vein
What the medical practice has, is plain
We come to think our pain will refrain
Magic words gone, our pain, we retain
Assuring us our pain will always remain
In this medical practice, proof is insane
Just flush that pain, irrigate it with a rain
Of vitamins & minerals & pain will drain
With the pain gone one can now be sane
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
Folks go insane trying to drain that pain
A pill popping, trumped pain relief chain
Doctor prescribed codeine, a relief cane
Ritalining up active kids, to calm a vein
What the medical practice has, is plain
We come to think our pain will refrain
Magic words gone, our pain, we retain
Assuring us our pain will always remain
In this medical practice, proof is insane
Just flush that pain, irrigate it with a rain
Of vitamins & minerals & pain will drain
With the pain gone one can now be sane
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
Limerick--By Arthur C. Ford, Sr.--United States
Limerick
A rich centenarian named Bee
Who lived extemporaneously,
Never gave thought
To what she sold or she bought,
Just remember that nothing was free.
Arthur C. Ford, Sr. is originally from New Orleans, LA., where he graduated from Southern University (S.U.N.O.). He studied Mathematics, Physics, Creative Writing (Poetry) and was a member of The Drama Society. He has traveled to 45 States, lived in Europe (Bruxelles, Belgium), and more recently spent 30 days doing missionary work and traveling throughout the country of India. He publishes a quarterly poetry newsletter entitled THE PEN(The Poetry Explosion Newsletter), and resides in Pittsburgh, PA.
A rich centenarian named Bee
Who lived extemporaneously,
Never gave thought
To what she sold or she bought,
Just remember that nothing was free.
Arthur C. Ford, Sr. is originally from New Orleans, LA., where he graduated from Southern University (S.U.N.O.). He studied Mathematics, Physics, Creative Writing (Poetry) and was a member of The Drama Society. He has traveled to 45 States, lived in Europe (Bruxelles, Belgium), and more recently spent 30 days doing missionary work and traveling throughout the country of India. He publishes a quarterly poetry newsletter entitled THE PEN(The Poetry Explosion Newsletter), and resides in Pittsburgh, PA.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Texting--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States
Texting
My spouse and I were ushered to our table by the Maitre d'.
We noticed right off that it was strangely quiet as could be!
Zombies sat at their tables, heads bowed as if in meditation.
Many with glazed eyes as if in la la land under sedation!
I noticed that each held a small gadget in hand,
And deft thumbs clicked away to beat the band!
Each was 'texting' oblivious to family and friends.
Concentrating only on their 'receivings' and 'sends'!
Conversation was limited to an occasional, "Pass the salt, please!"
I was fearful of being tossed out of the place should I dare sneeze!
I mused, "Will future generations learn to text before they can walk?
Lord have mercy! Will kids in the future even know how to talk!"
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.
My spouse and I were ushered to our table by the Maitre d'.
We noticed right off that it was strangely quiet as could be!
Zombies sat at their tables, heads bowed as if in meditation.
Many with glazed eyes as if in la la land under sedation!
I noticed that each held a small gadget in hand,
And deft thumbs clicked away to beat the band!
Each was 'texting' oblivious to family and friends.
Concentrating only on their 'receivings' and 'sends'!
Conversation was limited to an occasional, "Pass the salt, please!"
I was fearful of being tossed out of the place should I dare sneeze!
I mused, "Will future generations learn to text before they can walk?
Lord have mercy! Will kids in the future even know how to talk!"
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.
Love Note--By Rick Parise--United States
Love Note
Soon daytime shall drown
in supple lavender mist
where your loving cries
brushed in eloquent starlight
tumble free through twilight's door
Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon. The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirit's are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at rapondering@yahoo.com
Soon daytime shall drown
in supple lavender mist
where your loving cries
brushed in eloquent starlight
tumble free through twilight's door
Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon. The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirit's are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at rapondering@yahoo.com
Monday, July 8, 2013
Petals in the Park--By Barbara Siekierski--United States
Petals in the Park
Petals fall to the ground…
smelling the fragrance
as I walk on soft grass
Looking at the sky…
seeing the birds fly
as I soak up the sun
Morning dew…
the day begins
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Petals fall to the ground…
smelling the fragrance
as I walk on soft grass
Looking at the sky…
seeing the birds fly
as I soak up the sun
Morning dew…
the day begins
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Dissipating itself...--By Sunil Uniyal--India
Dissipating itself...
(A Ghazal)
Dissipating itself like a wave on the shore
This life has been just that, nothing more
Same roads I've travelled again and again
Through which have so many passed in vain
Every face that I met on the way
Had masks manifold, I must say
Which idol I should my plaint address
Day and night I'm under this stress
The wise have advised me times umpteen
But I've remained what I've been
I just wove webs with many a word
Nothing was new in what I uttered
Sunil Uniyal ( born 1953-) is a poet and translator based in New Delhi, India. He has been writing haiku and poems for over thirty years and many of these have appeared in e-journals like Muse India, Kritya, AHA Poetry, Poetica Magazine, Sketch Book, Notes From the Gean, A Hundred Gourds and Haiku Dreaming Australia. His work in translation includes, 'The Target is Behind the Sky -Fifty Poems of Kabir', brought out by the Low Price Publications, Delhi in February 2012.
(A Ghazal)
Dissipating itself like a wave on the shore
This life has been just that, nothing more
Same roads I've travelled again and again
Through which have so many passed in vain
Every face that I met on the way
Had masks manifold, I must say
Which idol I should my plaint address
Day and night I'm under this stress
The wise have advised me times umpteen
But I've remained what I've been
I just wove webs with many a word
Nothing was new in what I uttered
Sunil Uniyal ( born 1953-) is a poet and translator based in New Delhi, India. He has been writing haiku and poems for over thirty years and many of these have appeared in e-journals like Muse India, Kritya, AHA Poetry, Poetica Magazine, Sketch Book, Notes From the Gean, A Hundred Gourds and Haiku Dreaming Australia. His work in translation includes, 'The Target is Behind the Sky -Fifty Poems of Kabir', brought out by the Low Price Publications, Delhi in February 2012.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Woman as the Well--By Cindy Evans--United States
Woman as the Well
May I be like that well
where the Samaritan woman found You.
May I be like that place
where she found what was true.
May I be like that site
where's there's living water from Thee.
May I offer Your drink
to those who are thirsty...
May I be like that well
where others draw nourishment.
May I be as that source of help
where the Samaritan went.
May others find Jesus in me
as they seek the living water of You.
Oh, make me a well with
You flowing, making all things brand new!
Cindy Evans is a published poet living in the sunny south. When she's not writing, she does office work for Christian companies, spends time with her husband, Mark, goes walking and visits grand openings!
May I be like that well
where the Samaritan woman found You.
May I be like that place
where she found what was true.
May I be like that site
where's there's living water from Thee.
May I offer Your drink
to those who are thirsty...
May I be like that well
where others draw nourishment.
May I be as that source of help
where the Samaritan went.
May others find Jesus in me
as they seek the living water of You.
Oh, make me a well with
You flowing, making all things brand new!
Cindy Evans is a published poet living in the sunny south. When she's not writing, she does office work for Christian companies, spends time with her husband, Mark, goes walking and visits grand openings!
Carrousel Race--By Dena M. Ferrari--United States
Carrousel Race
Up and down, round and round
The carousel circle flow
Around, around, up and down
Watch the wooden horse go
A childhood memory
We all have a few
A little piece of history
Will never be a fond adieux
The painted treasures we did ride
Amongst the many to choose
Our favorite was our pride
To us it did amuse
So set yourself and join the pace
The ride is almost through
We always said we won the race
As we ride as our steeds flew
Ink flows in Dena's blood and spills its words upon the Parchment of Time...
Writing since four years old, she has a lifetime of created works in many genres.
Inspiration in Nature draws more work as Dena's Muse is relentless. Thank you Karen for having this work displayed....
Up and down, round and round
The carousel circle flow
Around, around, up and down
Watch the wooden horse go
A childhood memory
We all have a few
A little piece of history
Will never be a fond adieux
The painted treasures we did ride
Amongst the many to choose
Our favorite was our pride
To us it did amuse
So set yourself and join the pace
The ride is almost through
We always said we won the race
As we ride as our steeds flew
Ink flows in Dena's blood and spills its words upon the Parchment of Time...
Writing since four years old, she has a lifetime of created works in many genres.
Inspiration in Nature draws more work as Dena's Muse is relentless. Thank you Karen for having this work displayed....
Saturday, July 6, 2013
A song for you--By Ranu Uniyal--India
A song for you
I love the crooked smile, the soft touch of your livid moustache
the crisp cotton pants that you often smear with red ink
the fingers happy as they play the harmonium
every thing about you is just not perfect
and that is what I like the most.
I love the dad that radiates within as you hold him in your arms
those stories you make and the verses with sentiments
the giggles that follow once you bend as a horse
or become a carriage with cartons of clothes
that is the time when you are just perfect.
Ranu Uniyal lives in Lucknow, India. Poetry keeps her going and is as much a part of her life as her love for humanity. She is a Professor of English at Lucknow University. She has two books of poems: Across the Divide and December Poems to her credit.
I love the crooked smile, the soft touch of your livid moustache
the crisp cotton pants that you often smear with red ink
the fingers happy as they play the harmonium
every thing about you is just not perfect
and that is what I like the most.
I love the dad that radiates within as you hold him in your arms
those stories you make and the verses with sentiments
the giggles that follow once you bend as a horse
or become a carriage with cartons of clothes
that is the time when you are just perfect.
Ranu Uniyal lives in Lucknow, India. Poetry keeps her going and is as much a part of her life as her love for humanity. She is a Professor of English at Lucknow University. She has two books of poems: Across the Divide and December Poems to her credit.
Hummingbird and Honeybee--By Christine Tate--United States
Hummingbird and Honeybee
Little hummingbird in flight
seeking nectar's pure delight,
every human eye can see
how you hover gracefully.
Happy doing what you do
content the way the Lord made you...
I am like a hummingbird
I desire God's pure word.
Like the busy honeybee
sheltered in its hive safely,
I'm secure in God's embrace,
because He is my hiding place...
As Your little creatures do,
Lord I will depend on You...
they trust You exclusively,
and that is how I long to be!
Christine Tate lives in New Jersey. She is the mother of three married sons and has eight grandchildren. She started writing inspirational poetry in 1994, and is blessed to encourage others and honor the Lord. She was widowed in 2007 and met her new husband Artie, a widower, in the nursing facility where their late mothers resided. They've been happily married for 2 1/2 years. Since neither of them ever expected to marry again, they consider it a "divine appt."
Little hummingbird in flight
seeking nectar's pure delight,
every human eye can see
how you hover gracefully.
Happy doing what you do
content the way the Lord made you...
I am like a hummingbird
I desire God's pure word.
Like the busy honeybee
sheltered in its hive safely,
I'm secure in God's embrace,
because He is my hiding place...
As Your little creatures do,
Lord I will depend on You...
they trust You exclusively,
and that is how I long to be!
Christine Tate lives in New Jersey. She is the mother of three married sons and has eight grandchildren. She started writing inspirational poetry in 1994, and is blessed to encourage others and honor the Lord. She was widowed in 2007 and met her new husband Artie, a widower, in the nursing facility where their late mothers resided. They've been happily married for 2 1/2 years. Since neither of them ever expected to marry again, they consider it a "divine appt."
Friday, July 5, 2013
Reminisce--By Richard Sponaugle--United States
Reminisce
To relive those halcyon days,
spent in the mid morning June haze;
times with nothing to do at all,
nothing to think of big or small.
Nights were predictably boring,
and midnight found me long snoring.
Shame I didn’t savor it then;
but what’s Hell to a boy of ten,
is Heaven to a man grown old,
when peaceful moments are pure gold.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
To relive those halcyon days,
spent in the mid morning June haze;
times with nothing to do at all,
nothing to think of big or small.
Nights were predictably boring,
and midnight found me long snoring.
Shame I didn’t savor it then;
but what’s Hell to a boy of ten,
is Heaven to a man grown old,
when peaceful moments are pure gold.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
Joe--By Jack Horne--England
Joe
Before we met that winter day,
The world was empty, sad and dull;
His presence took the gloom away
And now my life’s returned to full;
I lost my heart and find it strange
A tiny bird can bring such change.
* For my mother’s canary
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
Before we met that winter day,
The world was empty, sad and dull;
His presence took the gloom away
And now my life’s returned to full;
I lost my heart and find it strange
A tiny bird can bring such change.
* For my mother’s canary
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
I’ll Never Know For Sure--By Jean Calkins--United States
I’ll Never Know For Sure
(Terza Rima Sonnet)
Life-long I’ve wondered if my destiny
would differ if forbidden love was mine,
instead of second choice reality.
But I was young, distrusting love’s design.
What did I really know? But fantasy
would lead me to ordained affinity.
What did I ken of that first love? I ask.
Had he a job? A car? What future hope?
My immaturity could not unmask
the answer. But my new love was no dope
and was a faithful man, up to each task.
Still I’m confused as a kaleidoscope.
Life-long I’ve wondered if my destiny
would lead me to ordained affinity.
2012 1st Place, Indiana State Federation of Poetry Clubs
Jean, at 80, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at jcalkins01@charter.net.
(Terza Rima Sonnet)
Life-long I’ve wondered if my destiny
would differ if forbidden love was mine,
instead of second choice reality.
But I was young, distrusting love’s design.
What did I really know? But fantasy
would lead me to ordained affinity.
What did I ken of that first love? I ask.
Had he a job? A car? What future hope?
My immaturity could not unmask
the answer. But my new love was no dope
and was a faithful man, up to each task.
Still I’m confused as a kaleidoscope.
Life-long I’ve wondered if my destiny
would lead me to ordained affinity.
2012 1st Place, Indiana State Federation of Poetry Clubs
Jean, at 80, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at jcalkins01@charter.net.
Love’s Ribbon--By Rhoda Galgiani--United States
Love’s Ribbon
Loving heart has no bound
for it loves you each day
its true moments are there
for love will never stray
Loving heart always say
come to me feel my love
with me, there is no fear
a love will help you bare
Loving heart brings a dove
full of flutter and hope
spreads to the saddest world
happiness and good cheer
Loving heart helps us cope
turn the black world around
bring joy to all our way
love binds like ribbon curled
Rhoda Galgiani is a published Poet and Author of two books, Expressions from the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny, A Child’s Story. Rhoda is a retired senior that delights in maintaining her own website entitled Expressions Poetry Journal, established in 2009, which is dedicated to the world of poetry and the love of animals. You may view her work on her website at chesakat1.blog.com
Loving heart has no bound
for it loves you each day
its true moments are there
for love will never stray
Loving heart always say
come to me feel my love
with me, there is no fear
a love will help you bare
Loving heart brings a dove
full of flutter and hope
spreads to the saddest world
happiness and good cheer
Loving heart helps us cope
turn the black world around
bring joy to all our way
love binds like ribbon curled
Rhoda Galgiani is a published Poet and Author of two books, Expressions from the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny, A Child’s Story. Rhoda is a retired senior that delights in maintaining her own website entitled Expressions Poetry Journal, established in 2009, which is dedicated to the world of poetry and the love of animals. You may view her work on her website at chesakat1.blog.com
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Old Love Rust Not--By Jan Oskar Hansen--Portugal
Old Love Rust Not
I walked across the bridge that spanned
over a white running river; and she was
there on the other side waiting for me.
One day she wasn’t there, she had gone
to Denmark to work as a nurse, but she
had not told me and had not left a letter
telling me why she had gone away.
I remember asking her, or was I begging?
Do you love me? Yes, I love you forever,
she had said, and kissed me tenderly.
And now that I’m old I see that she said
this to soothe my fear of not being loved.
Another spring and forty years has gone
the river is the same, so is my love for her.
Jan Oskar Hansen is a published poet from Portugal.
I walked across the bridge that spanned
over a white running river; and she was
there on the other side waiting for me.
One day she wasn’t there, she had gone
to Denmark to work as a nurse, but she
had not told me and had not left a letter
telling me why she had gone away.
I remember asking her, or was I begging?
Do you love me? Yes, I love you forever,
she had said, and kissed me tenderly.
And now that I’m old I see that she said
this to soothe my fear of not being loved.
Another spring and forty years has gone
the river is the same, so is my love for her.
Jan Oskar Hansen is a published poet from Portugal.
Patriots' Heaven--By Andrea Dietrich--United States
Patriots' Heaven
(Dodoitsu form - 7/7/7/5)
The red sun glows through white clouds
streaked across a blue canvas.
Happy fourth of July
written in the sky.
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.
(Dodoitsu form - 7/7/7/5)
The red sun glows through white clouds
streaked across a blue canvas.
Happy fourth of July
written in the sky.
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.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Seconds of a Dying Day--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada
Seconds of a Dying Day
The eyes that held fast to a colored sky
the somber echoes of faltering footsteps
the trampled blades that bent and wept
the picture clouds that emerged and faded
the heart that bled into a crimson fire fall
the fallen ashes that swirled upon the air
the spirits that had risen above the horizon
the sharp stillness felt in a halted breath
the seconds of time in a day that lay dying
Sandra Stefanowich is from Ontario.
The eyes that held fast to a colored sky
the somber echoes of faltering footsteps
the trampled blades that bent and wept
the picture clouds that emerged and faded
the heart that bled into a crimson fire fall
the fallen ashes that swirled upon the air
the spirits that had risen above the horizon
the sharp stillness felt in a halted breath
the seconds of time in a day that lay dying
Sandra Stefanowich is from Ontario.
Burned--By Carolyn Devonshire--United States
Burned
Your honor, I desire to sue the sun
Got burnt in spite of all that lotion
"Waterproof," they say
The jury says, "Nay!"
The sun sneered, threatened nova, when I won
Carolyn Devonshire is from Ormond Beach, Florida.
Your honor, I desire to sue the sun
Got burnt in spite of all that lotion
"Waterproof," they say
The jury says, "Nay!"
The sun sneered, threatened nova, when I won
Carolyn Devonshire is from Ormond Beach, Florida.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Special Love--By Ndaba Sibanda--Saudi Arabia
Special Love
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they are endowed
With the amazing biology of giving birth
And the natural ability to breast-feed to satisfaction
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they are the world’s
Mothers and grandmothers and sisters
Who can care and love better than a mother?
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they have love that knows
No time, hardship, distance, disability or old age
Because a mother’s love is the epitome of perseverance
Ndaba Sibanda is a Zimbabwean-born writer. His poems, essays and
short stories have been published in Africa and the USA. Ndaba
currently lives and teaches in Saudi Arabia. Of his career, he
says, "writing is my life, and my second wife".
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they are endowed
With the amazing biology of giving birth
And the natural ability to breast-feed to satisfaction
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they are the world’s
Mothers and grandmothers and sisters
Who can care and love better than a mother?
They are special
With a love inartificial
They and only they have love that knows
No time, hardship, distance, disability or old age
Because a mother’s love is the epitome of perseverance
Ndaba Sibanda is a Zimbabwean-born writer. His poems, essays and
short stories have been published in Africa and the USA. Ndaba
currently lives and teaches in Saudi Arabia. Of his career, he
says, "writing is my life, and my second wife".
Veterans of Vietnam--By Kathryn McLoughlin Collins--United States
Veterans of Vietnam
Do you still carry it with you,
the rifle of the fight?
Are you absolved in your bravery
even though you did not die?
Do you see worth
for what you risked?
I could not smell your perspiration
as we danced the boogaloo at home.
We were all so young;
all of us;
no chance to think;
each in a different reality.
And there are those who are forever young
prisoners of the mind, of the soul,
of the earth framed in heartache by loved ones.
Born in 1945, Kathryn Collins is a native New Yorker now living in Connecticut whose works have been described as “a gentle sort of poetry” by the editor of her first book No Need for Breadcrumbs, published by BeWrite Books, 2004. Her work has also appeared in numerous anthologies. Inspired by her beloved grandmother, she developed a great love of poetry at an early age and has been writing for 20 years.
Do you still carry it with you,
the rifle of the fight?
Are you absolved in your bravery
even though you did not die?
Do you see worth
for what you risked?
I could not smell your perspiration
as we danced the boogaloo at home.
We were all so young;
all of us;
no chance to think;
each in a different reality.
And there are those who are forever young
prisoners of the mind, of the soul,
of the earth framed in heartache by loved ones.
Born in 1945, Kathryn Collins is a native New Yorker now living in Connecticut whose works have been described as “a gentle sort of poetry” by the editor of her first book No Need for Breadcrumbs, published by BeWrite Books, 2004. Her work has also appeared in numerous anthologies. Inspired by her beloved grandmother, she developed a great love of poetry at an early age and has been writing for 20 years.
JULY ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN JUNE
Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi
Shirley Smothers--United States
Dorothy L. Bussemer--United States
Gerald Heyder--United States
Ron C. Moss--Australia
Suzanne Clement--United States
James Rasmusson--United States
jani johe webster--(In Memory)--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United States and Wales. We are truly becoming an international community. Many other countries are reading work at Whispers. I invite anyone who would like to join the group to check out the guidelines published on January 21. Best wishes to everyone with your writing endeavors. Sincerely, Karen
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Brian Stand’s local dialect poem “Bucks Boy” was featured by his local paper, The
Bucks Herald (circulation 30k+) in June. You may hear him read it on youtube, which can be found under Bucks Boy under Brian’s pen name ichthyschiro.
From Jane Richer Fellow poets: Did you know that some public libraries have a once a month poetry reading night? Usually this is free or only a couple of dollars! There you can meet and talk to other writers and listen to poems or scrape up the courage to stand and read one of yours. You might hob-nob with a publisher that thinks that your work is the next best thing around! At least it may get your 'foot' in the door and give you another chance to show your talent and the tea and cookies don't hurt either. Good luck to all!
jani johe webster's daughter, Nila, speaks to how her mother introduced her to the magic of creativity that lives within all of us. The youtube link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uNwe0cDkqE
Ndaba Sibanda’s short story, “I Will Tell Her”, was published by the UK-based magazine called The Metric. http://www.themetric.co.uk/author-reveal-no-04/
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Jean Calkins, editor: The Jokester, 2 pages of clean jokes free by email monthly, a forever stamp by snail mail (monthly or quarterly). Help bring smiles to shut-ins by contributing forever stamps. Even one stamp helps. Jean Calkins, 260 4th St., Waynesville, NC 28786-3762. jcalkins01@charter.net
Maurice J. Reynolds, the editor of the poetry publication Creative Inspirations, is seeking poetry 20 lines or less for his print magazine. Complete guidelines are available at www.tgbtgpublictions.com Stamps or cash donations would be appreciated to help with mailing costs.
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi
Shirley Smothers--United States
Dorothy L. Bussemer--United States
Gerald Heyder--United States
Ron C. Moss--Australia
Suzanne Clement--United States
James Rasmusson--United States
jani johe webster--(In Memory)--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United States and Wales. We are truly becoming an international community. Many other countries are reading work at Whispers. I invite anyone who would like to join the group to check out the guidelines published on January 21. Best wishes to everyone with your writing endeavors. Sincerely, Karen
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Brian Stand’s local dialect poem “Bucks Boy” was featured by his local paper, The
Bucks Herald (circulation 30k+) in June. You may hear him read it on youtube, which can be found under Bucks Boy under Brian’s pen name ichthyschiro.
From Jane Richer Fellow poets: Did you know that some public libraries have a once a month poetry reading night? Usually this is free or only a couple of dollars! There you can meet and talk to other writers and listen to poems or scrape up the courage to stand and read one of yours. You might hob-nob with a publisher that thinks that your work is the next best thing around! At least it may get your 'foot' in the door and give you another chance to show your talent and the tea and cookies don't hurt either. Good luck to all!
jani johe webster's daughter, Nila, speaks to how her mother introduced her to the magic of creativity that lives within all of us. The youtube link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uNwe0cDkqE
Ndaba Sibanda’s short story, “I Will Tell Her”, was published by the UK-based magazine called The Metric. http://www.themetric.co.uk/author-reveal-no-04/
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Jean Calkins, editor: The Jokester, 2 pages of clean jokes free by email monthly, a forever stamp by snail mail (monthly or quarterly). Help bring smiles to shut-ins by contributing forever stamps. Even one stamp helps. Jean Calkins, 260 4th St., Waynesville, NC 28786-3762. jcalkins01@charter.net
Maurice J. Reynolds, the editor of the poetry publication Creative Inspirations, is seeking poetry 20 lines or less for his print magazine. Complete guidelines are available at www.tgbtgpublictions.com Stamps or cash donations would be appreciated to help with mailing costs.
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
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