Gleaming Light
Slipping away fast,
no matter the time
His gleaming light,
guides many lost souls.
God’s grace seems to
welcome us home.
Kevin Bates is an avid reader. You will find him reading everyday books of non-fiction or poetry online. He loves family, sports, reading and writing poetry. He has one handsome son and grandson. He hopes to one day be published, bring a smile, and help many through his poetry. He lives outside Houston, Texas and can find him reading or writing right now.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
Master’s Outlook--By Christina R. Jussaume--United States
Master’s Outlook (Acrostic)
Master has vision for you
As you pray ask Him to show
Say words that bring victory
Trade devil for Him with glow
Each sign of faith He does see
Realize He’s best to know
Say in belief to conquer
Outlook key to secure win
Under defeat faith rely
Treat all with kindness from heart
Look up for all to transcend
Of victory see His plan
On each day I recommend
Keep the Lord first in your life
“the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not”
(Romans, 4:17, NIV)
Christina R. Jussaume is a Christian Author of 9 poetry books. She has had many poems published in anthologies and fundraisers. She has won many awards for her poetry including Best Spiritual Poetry award from Christianstorytelling.com. Her first book, My Walk with Jesus, received this award and began her journey toward fulfillment as a Style Tutor now on the Alliance of Poets. All of her books except the first book were published by apfpublisher.com.
Master has vision for you
As you pray ask Him to show
Say words that bring victory
Trade devil for Him with glow
Each sign of faith He does see
Realize He’s best to know
Say in belief to conquer
Outlook key to secure win
Under defeat faith rely
Treat all with kindness from heart
Look up for all to transcend
Of victory see His plan
On each day I recommend
Keep the Lord first in your life
“the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not”
(Romans, 4:17, NIV)
Christina R. Jussaume is a Christian Author of 9 poetry books. She has had many poems published in anthologies and fundraisers. She has won many awards for her poetry including Best Spiritual Poetry award from Christianstorytelling.com. Her first book, My Walk with Jesus, received this award and began her journey toward fulfillment as a Style Tutor now on the Alliance of Poets. All of her books except the first book were published by apfpublisher.com.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Journey Of Purpose--By Ndaba Sibanda--Saudi Arabia
Journey Of Purpose
A life-changing journey
can be curvy but calls for straightness of character
Sometimes dark clouds clear into brightness if one looks
beyond the horizon with patience and purpose and conviction
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".
A life-changing journey
can be curvy but calls for straightness of character
Sometimes dark clouds clear into brightness if one looks
beyond the horizon with patience and purpose and conviction
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".
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Jack Horne and Audrey Haick--England and United States
My Favorite Place to Visit
By Jack Horne, England and Audrey Haick, United States
I wander through the town in which he lived,
Believe I feel his presence all around.
I visit places that he must have loved:
His childhood home, the church and New Place ground.
I lay a single rose upon his grave,
Sincerely wishing that he would appear;
I close my eyes and, smiling, think of him.
Ah, I love Stratford, home of Will Shakespeare.
On cold wintry days when my thoughts take flight
I‘m off to the great Pacific and her tropical lands
All exotic remnants of paradise in plain sight
How like footprints they seem upon the ocean, grand
Lush, vibrant green foliage and the richest colors ignite
As palms dance the Hula under a dazzling sun
Encircled by warm trade winds infusing daily delight
As four islands still evolving, offer us, endless fun!
(Note--The four Hawaiian Islands--Honolulu, Kauai, Maui and Oahu)
By Jack Horne, England and Audrey Haick, United States
I wander through the town in which he lived,
Believe I feel his presence all around.
I visit places that he must have loved:
His childhood home, the church and New Place ground.
I lay a single rose upon his grave,
Sincerely wishing that he would appear;
I close my eyes and, smiling, think of him.
Ah, I love Stratford, home of Will Shakespeare.
On cold wintry days when my thoughts take flight
I‘m off to the great Pacific and her tropical lands
All exotic remnants of paradise in plain sight
How like footprints they seem upon the ocean, grand
Lush, vibrant green foliage and the richest colors ignite
As palms dance the Hula under a dazzling sun
Encircled by warm trade winds infusing daily delight
As four islands still evolving, offer us, endless fun!
(Note--The four Hawaiian Islands--Honolulu, Kauai, Maui and Oahu)
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Jane Richer and Pam Murray--Canada
Windmills
By Jane Richer and Pam Murray
More and more we see Windmills used to power our life,
Rows and rows of turning blades each a whirling knife.
Sending cooling air through stagnant skies and polluted lands,
From atmospheric essences to fill our many demands.
Electrical power is all the craze we must keep machines in play,
Forget the damage that we do, making our world turn gray.
Faster, quicker, our world is spinning vastly out of control,
No one stopping to see Earth and pray for her precious soul.
Yes, we are turning like the windmill too busy to stop this spin,
Too caught up in the speed we seek, to remember the peace within.
To catch our breath, slow down, and realise-progress comes in stages,
Otherwise the book of life is missing too many pages.
For once 'torn' out, the next generation will have nothing left to save,
And Earth which was so glorious will become our desolate grave!
By Jane Richer and Pam Murray
More and more we see Windmills used to power our life,
Rows and rows of turning blades each a whirling knife.
Sending cooling air through stagnant skies and polluted lands,
From atmospheric essences to fill our many demands.
Electrical power is all the craze we must keep machines in play,
Forget the damage that we do, making our world turn gray.
Faster, quicker, our world is spinning vastly out of control,
No one stopping to see Earth and pray for her precious soul.
Yes, we are turning like the windmill too busy to stop this spin,
Too caught up in the speed we seek, to remember the peace within.
To catch our breath, slow down, and realise-progress comes in stages,
Otherwise the book of life is missing too many pages.
For once 'torn' out, the next generation will have nothing left to save,
And Earth which was so glorious will become our desolate grave!
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Misty Flats--By Kristina M. Hooper--United States
Misty Flats
Wandering the misty flats,
searching high and low;
what do I seek, here and there,
I do not even know.
Something pulls my soul to roam
the meadows far and wide;
a constant ache deep within,
a need I cannot hide.
Her mystery speaks to me,
dark secrets are revealed;
upon the moors, solitude,
where heart and mind are healed.
As I wander misty flats,
your presence feels so near;
alone I walk, wrapped in love,
with nothing more to fear.
Dedicated to my father who passed away January 13, 2011
Kristina resides in Ormond Beach, Fl with her husband and three pets. She enjoys writing and spending time with her husband.
Wandering the misty flats,
searching high and low;
what do I seek, here and there,
I do not even know.
Something pulls my soul to roam
the meadows far and wide;
a constant ache deep within,
a need I cannot hide.
Her mystery speaks to me,
dark secrets are revealed;
upon the moors, solitude,
where heart and mind are healed.
As I wander misty flats,
your presence feels so near;
alone I walk, wrapped in love,
with nothing more to fear.
Dedicated to my father who passed away January 13, 2011
Kristina resides in Ormond Beach, Fl with her husband and three pets. She enjoys writing and spending time with her husband.
A Box of Grief--By Poppy Herrin--United States
A Box of Grief
She keeps a box of grief
underneath the stairs.
Every day she takes it out
and has a hefty share.
She is lavish with her grief
that when a stranger knocks
she will hurry down the stairs
and open wide the box.
She shared it with me often
until I changed my tone,
and said “Keep it for yourself,
I have some of my own.”
Poppy Herrin is married to the love of her life Jason, and together they have four daughters and one grandson. She is originally from Laurel, Mississippi, but recently relocated to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. By day she makes a living as a medical transcriptionist, and by night she works toward living the dream as a writer. Her poems have appeared in many publications and have received various contest awards.
She keeps a box of grief
underneath the stairs.
Every day she takes it out
and has a hefty share.
She is lavish with her grief
that when a stranger knocks
she will hurry down the stairs
and open wide the box.
She shared it with me often
until I changed my tone,
and said “Keep it for yourself,
I have some of my own.”
Poppy Herrin is married to the love of her life Jason, and together they have four daughters and one grandson. She is originally from Laurel, Mississippi, but recently relocated to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. By day she makes a living as a medical transcriptionist, and by night she works toward living the dream as a writer. Her poems have appeared in many publications and have received various contest awards.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The Byway--By Kathryn McLoughlin Collins--United States
The Byway
I may have been a place or two
Where your foot’s fallen or wishes to.
I have known a decibel of fright,
shrieked aloud in the cold dark night
In braveness, have you reached in aid?
In kindness have you sought to save
Sweet precious feelings of a friend
And sacrificed your own true end?
Stoop not at indignity nor
Puff and gel in praise.
Both fade fickle in the light;
Melt away in haze.
We’ll not be judged on cleverness.
Instead we will succeed
On our state of readiness
To lend a hand in need.
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.
I may have been a place or two
Where your foot’s fallen or wishes to.
I have known a decibel of fright,
shrieked aloud in the cold dark night
In braveness, have you reached in aid?
In kindness have you sought to save
Sweet precious feelings of a friend
And sacrificed your own true end?
Stoop not at indignity nor
Puff and gel in praise.
Both fade fickle in the light;
Melt away in haze.
We’ll not be judged on cleverness.
Instead we will succeed
On our state of readiness
To lend a hand in need.
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.
Way To Go--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands
Way To Go
If it was a hunch and you did it then I bet
You are glad you did without regret
You might think it a guess but it feels good
When you follow your instincts like you should.
if you get more than one premonition
Then you are strong on intuition
With a sixth sense and instinct to know
You must let gut feelings dictate the flow
If you cultivate these gifts given to you
And follow your instincts in all you do
Then you'll be a positive person to find
You don't need others to make up your mind.
You choose your own
Way To Go!
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.
If it was a hunch and you did it then I bet
You are glad you did without regret
You might think it a guess but it feels good
When you follow your instincts like you should.
if you get more than one premonition
Then you are strong on intuition
With a sixth sense and instinct to know
You must let gut feelings dictate the flow
If you cultivate these gifts given to you
And follow your instincts in all you do
Then you'll be a positive person to find
You don't need others to make up your mind.
You choose your own
Way To Go!
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.
Theology of Hope--By Eunice.Gaba,Rafywa--Botswana
Theology of Hope
I am hopeful, yes I am
Hopeful for today,
Tomorrow and the future
Whenever I sense a loss of hope
I raise my head and
Look up to the blue skies
I cry my plea to the almighty Lord
In outer space who’d never resent me
Nor rail against me
I am hopeful, yes I am
That one day things will brighten up
The heavens’ doors I’ve long been
Knocking upon shall open
Sometimes I imagine where hope is
In my dreams whispering
Sometimes I imagine in my dreams that
My theology of hope has come
Whenever I lose a sense of wonder
God casts the theology of hope upon me
And I’m as grateful as I can ever be
Eunice.Gaba,Rafywa is a health coordinator, a teacher, a writer of poetry, drama and literature. She published her first Poetry book in September 24, 2013 called The Poet in Me. Eunice is very active in coordinating health and wellness, HIV and AIDS and charity clubs. She views herself as a woman of change who is driven by creativity and thrives for excellence in all aspects of life. She is a member of at least 27 poetry groups on Facebook as she would like to learn more about the world of writing.
I am hopeful, yes I am
Hopeful for today,
Tomorrow and the future
Whenever I sense a loss of hope
I raise my head and
Look up to the blue skies
I cry my plea to the almighty Lord
In outer space who’d never resent me
Nor rail against me
I am hopeful, yes I am
That one day things will brighten up
The heavens’ doors I’ve long been
Knocking upon shall open
Sometimes I imagine where hope is
In my dreams whispering
Sometimes I imagine in my dreams that
My theology of hope has come
Whenever I lose a sense of wonder
God casts the theology of hope upon me
And I’m as grateful as I can ever be
Eunice.Gaba,Rafywa is a health coordinator, a teacher, a writer of poetry, drama and literature. She published her first Poetry book in September 24, 2013 called The Poet in Me. Eunice is very active in coordinating health and wellness, HIV and AIDS and charity clubs. She views herself as a woman of change who is driven by creativity and thrives for excellence in all aspects of life. She is a member of at least 27 poetry groups on Facebook as she would like to learn more about the world of writing.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Harmonious--By Rick Parise--United States
Harmonious
Unspoken words
silent and unheard
waiting for the poets vision
to paint each delicate word
On sunlit morning's glowing warmth
and hills of velvet gold
where subtle stroke of vibrant grace
capture each harmonic word
We stand in awe
as drum beats roll
and fill our weary souls
when at last comes love
the key to life
profound in sacred truth
On sunlit morning's glowing warmth
I climb the hill tops high
and dream in visions of purest white
above the azure sky
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
Unspoken words
silent and unheard
waiting for the poets vision
to paint each delicate word
On sunlit morning's glowing warmth
and hills of velvet gold
where subtle stroke of vibrant grace
capture each harmonic word
We stand in awe
as drum beats roll
and fill our weary souls
when at last comes love
the key to life
profound in sacred truth
On sunlit morning's glowing warmth
I climb the hill tops high
and dream in visions of purest white
above the azure sky
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
Look Out… It’s Catchy!--By Lisa DeVinney--United States
Look Out… It’s Catchy!
There is an ailment that can spread
Like wildfire does.
It can’t be stopped by shots or masks,
Or even rubber gloves.
It leaves its victims suffering
From headaches and fatigue.
An upset stomach sometimes comes,
And wrinkles set in deep.
It’s not uncommon, if unchecked,
To quickly lay aside
Entire families, in its wake;
For there’s no place to hide.
It’s far more catchy that the mumps,
Or chickenpox, or flu.
“What is this ailment?” you may ask.
It’s called a Rotten Mood.
“A soft answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.”
Proverbs 15:1 NKJV
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time.
There is an ailment that can spread
Like wildfire does.
It can’t be stopped by shots or masks,
Or even rubber gloves.
It leaves its victims suffering
From headaches and fatigue.
An upset stomach sometimes comes,
And wrinkles set in deep.
It’s not uncommon, if unchecked,
To quickly lay aside
Entire families, in its wake;
For there’s no place to hide.
It’s far more catchy that the mumps,
Or chickenpox, or flu.
“What is this ailment?” you may ask.
It’s called a Rotten Mood.
“A soft answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.”
Proverbs 15:1 NKJV
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time.
Caught--By Janet Vick--United States
Caught
Caught...
In a weaver’s web
dyed with confusion.
Doubt
created knots,
a grand delusion.
Fear
connected spirals,
wild illusions...
Peace
rekindled Faith,
prayer resolution.
Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.
Caught...
In a weaver’s web
dyed with confusion.
Doubt
created knots,
a grand delusion.
Fear
connected spirals,
wild illusions...
Peace
rekindled Faith,
prayer resolution.
Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
It Fills My Eye--By Sheri Stanley--United States
It Fills My Eye
I cried a tear for yesterday
It’s memories come hauntingly
And, yet as joy faced in the morrow
Promises were mine to borrow
Still in the mirror of passing time
My tears fall freely, oh, so softly
As if life’s ghosts are taunting me
Filling my pores so thoughtlessly
As if my pores held misery
That isn’t true; that isn’t real
I write this while I pray; I kneel
So thankful now, this finite test
Has given me the very best
While I remain so very blessed
'Tis I, a temporary guest
Of life and all there is to share
The greatest joy is that you care
And what a joy to have you near
It fills my eye a grateful tear
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family.
I cried a tear for yesterday
It’s memories come hauntingly
And, yet as joy faced in the morrow
Promises were mine to borrow
Still in the mirror of passing time
My tears fall freely, oh, so softly
As if life’s ghosts are taunting me
Filling my pores so thoughtlessly
As if my pores held misery
That isn’t true; that isn’t real
I write this while I pray; I kneel
So thankful now, this finite test
Has given me the very best
While I remain so very blessed
'Tis I, a temporary guest
Of life and all there is to share
The greatest joy is that you care
And what a joy to have you near
It fills my eye a grateful tear
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Poet of the Month--Carolyn Devonshire
Wind Talker
By Carolyn Devonshire
‘neath the halo of a full moon
Wind Talker gives music to the night
flute carved from a fallen tree
he plays to the dwindling forest
trees that remain and creatures losing habitat
softly the melody resonates through the woods
Wind Talker recalls stories handed down
tribal legacies of prosperity, joy
an era when animals were protected and revered
glory days of spiritual people
proud Native Americans who honored their culture
cast away even as treaties were signed
so much has been lost
so much
clad in soft skins
Wind Talker wishes for what might have been
if settlers had never made their way to his land
yes, the land is his
it always will be; this he knows
his heart’s sadness emanates from Wind Talker’s flute
development is approaching, encroaching
more houses, more highways
fewer trees, less land for animals to roam freely
resignation sets in
no way to reclaim the past
ceremonial drums fade in the distance
so much has been lost
so much
_______________
From the editor--Carolyn was an easy choice for our first Poet of the Month. An award winning writer and former editor, her talent is evident. Readers at Whispers relate to her poems. Almost from the beginning of our online journal, she has been recommending the site to other writers. Due to her efforts, several poets are now regular contributors to Whispers. She regularly posts thoughtful and encouraging comments for other writers. She has also been helpful with suggestions to help improve the site. Thus, it is a privilege to present her with this honor.
_______________
Thoughts on “Wind Talker”--I first read “Wind Talker” in an international poetry magazine called Poems of the World. I asked Carolyn to submit it for inclusion with her honor as an example of the quality of her writing. Right away, the title intrigued me, an asset for any poem. The emotion flows through her words in a way that one feels the spiritual essence. “Wind Talker” is a powerful poem with a timeless quality, an amazing piece.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Carolyn! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
By Carolyn Devonshire
‘neath the halo of a full moon
Wind Talker gives music to the night
flute carved from a fallen tree
he plays to the dwindling forest
trees that remain and creatures losing habitat
softly the melody resonates through the woods
Wind Talker recalls stories handed down
tribal legacies of prosperity, joy
an era when animals were protected and revered
glory days of spiritual people
proud Native Americans who honored their culture
cast away even as treaties were signed
so much has been lost
so much
clad in soft skins
Wind Talker wishes for what might have been
if settlers had never made their way to his land
yes, the land is his
it always will be; this he knows
his heart’s sadness emanates from Wind Talker’s flute
development is approaching, encroaching
more houses, more highways
fewer trees, less land for animals to roam freely
resignation sets in
no way to reclaim the past
ceremonial drums fade in the distance
so much has been lost
so much
_______________
From the editor--Carolyn was an easy choice for our first Poet of the Month. An award winning writer and former editor, her talent is evident. Readers at Whispers relate to her poems. Almost from the beginning of our online journal, she has been recommending the site to other writers. Due to her efforts, several poets are now regular contributors to Whispers. She regularly posts thoughtful and encouraging comments for other writers. She has also been helpful with suggestions to help improve the site. Thus, it is a privilege to present her with this honor.
_______________
Thoughts on “Wind Talker”--I first read “Wind Talker” in an international poetry magazine called Poems of the World. I asked Carolyn to submit it for inclusion with her honor as an example of the quality of her writing. Right away, the title intrigued me, an asset for any poem. The emotion flows through her words in a way that one feels the spiritual essence. “Wind Talker” is a powerful poem with a timeless quality, an amazing piece.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Carolyn! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
No Measure of Time--By Audrey Haick--United States
No Measure of Time
Unspoken words linger in the depth of souls
Preserved with reverence… a moment to unfold
In classic silence, weary eyes stare long, hard; deep
Hands gently pairing, find each other, like ripe fruit to reap
In mellow warm embrace, misty eyes and hearts race in time
Forever to savor this moment sublime
When love need not speak a word to amplify its pleasure
And true love bears time no measure
Soon, furrows will lie upon your brow; fine silver strands highlight my curls
Yet, for always, we will forever be… this boy and girl
Audrey, a.k.a. Annalise Brigham resides in beautiful Maryland, U.S.A. A Mother to one amazing daughter. She's also a published author and loves writing and reading poetry.
Unspoken words linger in the depth of souls
Preserved with reverence… a moment to unfold
In classic silence, weary eyes stare long, hard; deep
Hands gently pairing, find each other, like ripe fruit to reap
In mellow warm embrace, misty eyes and hearts race in time
Forever to savor this moment sublime
When love need not speak a word to amplify its pleasure
And true love bears time no measure
Soon, furrows will lie upon your brow; fine silver strands highlight my curls
Yet, for always, we will forever be… this boy and girl
Audrey, a.k.a. Annalise Brigham resides in beautiful Maryland, U.S.A. A Mother to one amazing daughter. She's also a published author and loves writing and reading poetry.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Leokadia Durmaj, Australia and Robert Hewett Sr., United States
Amazing Moments of Hope and Faith
Leokadia Durmaj, Australia and Robert Hewett Sr., United States
Looking out across the ocean,
She wonders where her love could be,
She wishes he was here with her,
She watches the sun merge with the dark blue water
Bright red, like a ball on fire,
The sky darkens from blue to grey.
There are sailing boats still out on the water
Bobbing up and down across the waves,
A cool breeze is blowing softly,
She succumbs to the feeling.
Racing his Range Rover down a dusty Outback road
Storm brewing off to his left
Dangerous washout ahead,
“Pound pistons, engine roar, don’t falter!”
Lightning and dark clouds closing in on him.
“Come on Rover, throw that dust high
I wish you had wings and we could fly.”
Thunder and lightning, wind and rain,
Are in his eyesight just upstream,
Soon a wall of water two stories high
Will come down the washout to claim him.
She is not aware of the danger he faces,
She watches the sunset disappear into the ocean,
The dazzling sunset envelops her.
As the sky darkens the water glistens,
The light is dancing upon each wave,
she is mesmerized by the beauty displayed.
Waves are tumbling over each other,
A feeling of peacefulness overcomes her
She surrenders her heart and soul.
He is in the deadly washout; the road is rough.
The wind, the rain, the lightning, all around him,
A wall of water in his sight rushing downstream.
“My darling pray for me, I need Divine intervention,
the Rover and I are facing absolute devastation.”
The wall of roaring water is very near him,
He sees the rise in the road ahead.
“Climb Rover, climb that bank.
We are out of the gulch, Sydney is on our horizon .”
Leokadia Durmaj, Australia and Robert Hewett Sr., United States
Looking out across the ocean,
She wonders where her love could be,
She wishes he was here with her,
She watches the sun merge with the dark blue water
Bright red, like a ball on fire,
The sky darkens from blue to grey.
There are sailing boats still out on the water
Bobbing up and down across the waves,
A cool breeze is blowing softly,
She succumbs to the feeling.
Racing his Range Rover down a dusty Outback road
Storm brewing off to his left
Dangerous washout ahead,
“Pound pistons, engine roar, don’t falter!”
Lightning and dark clouds closing in on him.
“Come on Rover, throw that dust high
I wish you had wings and we could fly.”
Thunder and lightning, wind and rain,
Are in his eyesight just upstream,
Soon a wall of water two stories high
Will come down the washout to claim him.
She is not aware of the danger he faces,
She watches the sunset disappear into the ocean,
The dazzling sunset envelops her.
As the sky darkens the water glistens,
The light is dancing upon each wave,
she is mesmerized by the beauty displayed.
Waves are tumbling over each other,
A feeling of peacefulness overcomes her
She surrenders her heart and soul.
He is in the deadly washout; the road is rough.
The wind, the rain, the lightning, all around him,
A wall of water in his sight rushing downstream.
“My darling pray for me, I need Divine intervention,
the Rover and I are facing absolute devastation.”
The wall of roaring water is very near him,
He sees the rise in the road ahead.
“Climb Rover, climb that bank.
We are out of the gulch, Sydney is on our horizon .”
Blue Waters and Blue Skies--By Arthur C. Ford, Sr.--United States
Blue Waters and Blue Skies
Blue Waters and Blue Skies,
Am I walking along a plain?
Or flying in a plane?
Am I looking up to see?
Or looking down at thee?
You look so much alike,
You look like you were born
In the early morn,
With the moon at night
Or maybe at twilight.
Blue Waters and Blue Skies
I plea!!
I think you cover me,
For you lie along the beach
And above me out of reach.
Blue Waters and Blue Skies,
You look like you can smile,
And if I'm feeling "blue"
You'll surely
See me through!!
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.
Blue Waters and Blue Skies,
Am I walking along a plain?
Or flying in a plane?
Am I looking up to see?
Or looking down at thee?
You look so much alike,
You look like you were born
In the early morn,
With the moon at night
Or maybe at twilight.
Blue Waters and Blue Skies
I plea!!
I think you cover me,
For you lie along the beach
And above me out of reach.
Blue Waters and Blue Skies,
You look like you can smile,
And if I'm feeling "blue"
You'll surely
See me through!!
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.
Price Of Peace--By Andrew Ntchindi Jere--Malawi
Price Of Peace
Peace traded for freedom,
To a community,
It’s a blue flame,
Baking peace to the core.
Respect for one another,
A fair cost for peace,
Never fluctuates,
Affordable by torn or intact pockets.
Love, a price tag on peace,
A good relationship basic need,
At every clock tick
Nurtures a fellowship society.
In harmony, hooked hands
bridge identity gaps,
Pulls and pushes peace smoothly
Along any dot on the oval globe.
The price of understanding brings
Peace that soars to the peak of space,
Sun shining in the darkness of conflict
As an new song of joy.
Andrew Ntchindi Jere is a youthful Malawian poet. His poems have been extensively published in his country’s leading local newspapers, magazines and online publications. His poem, “The Charcoal Maker” was nominated in the 2013 Wisdom Dede Kamkondo Poetry Competition; the most prestigious Malawian poetry competition. He is a first year student at Mzuzu University, Malawi. He believes that God is his source of creativity.
Peace traded for freedom,
To a community,
It’s a blue flame,
Baking peace to the core.
Respect for one another,
A fair cost for peace,
Never fluctuates,
Affordable by torn or intact pockets.
Love, a price tag on peace,
A good relationship basic need,
At every clock tick
Nurtures a fellowship society.
In harmony, hooked hands
bridge identity gaps,
Pulls and pushes peace smoothly
Along any dot on the oval globe.
The price of understanding brings
Peace that soars to the peak of space,
Sun shining in the darkness of conflict
As an new song of joy.
Andrew Ntchindi Jere is a youthful Malawian poet. His poems have been extensively published in his country’s leading local newspapers, magazines and online publications. His poem, “The Charcoal Maker” was nominated in the 2013 Wisdom Dede Kamkondo Poetry Competition; the most prestigious Malawian poetry competition. He is a first year student at Mzuzu University, Malawi. He believes that God is his source of creativity.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Restoration--By Marcus Omer--United States
Restoration
Go lay the word upon the wind
and pray that God His wisdom send
to stir the minds of those who teach,
to melt the heart and heal the breach.
With humble heart man wouldn't stray,
with teachable mind, learn the way;
fulfill the purpose for his life,
then put away all grief and strife.
Yet they still war and stoke the fire
of human nature's ill desire.
For greed and gain the train they ride
that kills the soul with hidden pride.
Will change e'er come to tarnished man,
restore him to when time began?
Lived he and Eve before the lie,
deceitful words - they wouldn't die.
A lump of clay, 'immortal soul'?
A twisted being gains control.
Now he directs the minds of men
until the Christ has come again.
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
Go lay the word upon the wind
and pray that God His wisdom send
to stir the minds of those who teach,
to melt the heart and heal the breach.
With humble heart man wouldn't stray,
with teachable mind, learn the way;
fulfill the purpose for his life,
then put away all grief and strife.
Yet they still war and stoke the fire
of human nature's ill desire.
For greed and gain the train they ride
that kills the soul with hidden pride.
Will change e'er come to tarnished man,
restore him to when time began?
Lived he and Eve before the lie,
deceitful words - they wouldn't die.
A lump of clay, 'immortal soul'?
A twisted being gains control.
Now he directs the minds of men
until the Christ has come again.
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
A Ghazal--By Sunil Uniyal--India
A Ghazal
I know not why, it's strange but true
I feel lost in front of You
Virtues in me are too many
You just take a bird's eye view
What is all this roaming about?
Why is life a wandering Jew?
In this world of tasks undone
Days are like the morning dew
In this city of millions 'Uni'
Can't even find friends few
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.
I know not why, it's strange but true
I feel lost in front of You
Virtues in me are too many
You just take a bird's eye view
What is all this roaming about?
Why is life a wandering Jew?
In this world of tasks undone
Days are like the morning dew
In this city of millions 'Uni'
Can't even find friends few
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, January 12, 2014
Diary of Dreams--By Karen O'Leary--United States
Diary of Dreams
celestial echo…
seasonal memories float
in garnet hues
the fresh aroma
of thulian roses wafts…
my first kiss
soft music
in mellifluous tune…
pristine caresses
shelter long past
in summer’s shadow…
I walk alone
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.
celestial echo…
seasonal memories float
in garnet hues
the fresh aroma
of thulian roses wafts…
my first kiss
soft music
in mellifluous tune…
pristine caresses
shelter long past
in summer’s shadow…
I walk alone
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.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Winter Night--By Joann Grisetti--United States
Winter Night
observed at matins
a luminous aura and
frozen gibbous moon
on frozen snow
silver specked moonbeams
leave pale shadows
shadows of birches
stand as sentinels
the snowy crest
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.
observed at matins
a luminous aura and
frozen gibbous moon
on frozen snow
silver specked moonbeams
leave pale shadows
shadows of birches
stand as sentinels
the snowy crest
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.
Essence of Cool--By Robert A. Dufresne--United States
Essence of Cool
Hey look, ..another motorcycle man!
Pony tail and top of his head is tan,
His bug-juiced face looks like a Christmas wreath
trimmed with those orange beetles in his teeth.
A bumblebee pockmarked his forehead,
where it must have burned in like lead.
No helmet or gear cause he’s cool,
a biker’s unspoken rule!
This chopper with the suicide shift,
was given by his ex wife as a gift,
But he can’t get a date, even at the shows,
It must be that dead moth stuck up his nose.
Wears shorts to feel the freedom of the breeze,
between the tar spots and bug spattered knees.
There he goes now like he’s off to a race!
A hatch of dead insects covering his face!
Baa-brum! Look at him go ! My word !!
Oh no! Here comes a Bird.
Robert A. Dufresne was born in Vermont and raised on a dairy farm. After four years in the Navy and trying his hand at a couple of trades, he settled in as a self employed remodeling carpenter for 31 years. He and his wife moved to Florida in 1998, where he continued his career. He began writing poetry in 2009 .
Hey look, ..another motorcycle man!
Pony tail and top of his head is tan,
His bug-juiced face looks like a Christmas wreath
trimmed with those orange beetles in his teeth.
A bumblebee pockmarked his forehead,
where it must have burned in like lead.
No helmet or gear cause he’s cool,
a biker’s unspoken rule!
This chopper with the suicide shift,
was given by his ex wife as a gift,
But he can’t get a date, even at the shows,
It must be that dead moth stuck up his nose.
Wears shorts to feel the freedom of the breeze,
between the tar spots and bug spattered knees.
There he goes now like he’s off to a race!
A hatch of dead insects covering his face!
Baa-brum! Look at him go ! My word !!
Oh no! Here comes a Bird.
Robert A. Dufresne was born in Vermont and raised on a dairy farm. After four years in the Navy and trying his hand at a couple of trades, he settled in as a self employed remodeling carpenter for 31 years. He and his wife moved to Florida in 1998, where he continued his career. He began writing poetry in 2009 .
Friday, January 10, 2014
The Kitchen Floor--By Anne R. C. Neale--United States
The Kitchen Floor
I walk on it daily and I do not know
How it gets so dirty each day, that's so,
I wax it and sweep it, and low and behold,
The next day it looks like it has a " mold " ( just kidding)
Crumbs come from nowhere, and spills too,
They seem to appear in difficult spots for you,
I try to leave it spotless when I go out of the room,
And on the side of my refrigerator I store my broom.
I know that by nightfall I need to sweep the floor,
It is a repetitious job, I do more and more,
The kitchen floor has a life all it's own,
I wish it would stay clean all day long, I moan.
So each day I sweep and clean it up again,
The kitchen floor is the place I am most, Amen,
With cooking and washing dishes, I live in it a lot,
When I am really tired at night in the sink I might leave a pot.
Kitchen floors are necessary, but they sure don't stay clean,
It's the most important floor as you are in it a lot I scream.
Anne R. C. Neale is 85 years old. She taught outdoor education for 20 years. Anne still works at school as crossing guard. She has sent six free poems daily to 165 people for the past 18 years. She been writing poems since the age of 8 and has all of them in albums. She resides in New Jersey .
I walk on it daily and I do not know
How it gets so dirty each day, that's so,
I wax it and sweep it, and low and behold,
The next day it looks like it has a " mold " ( just kidding)
Crumbs come from nowhere, and spills too,
They seem to appear in difficult spots for you,
I try to leave it spotless when I go out of the room,
And on the side of my refrigerator I store my broom.
I know that by nightfall I need to sweep the floor,
It is a repetitious job, I do more and more,
The kitchen floor has a life all it's own,
I wish it would stay clean all day long, I moan.
So each day I sweep and clean it up again,
The kitchen floor is the place I am most, Amen,
With cooking and washing dishes, I live in it a lot,
When I am really tired at night in the sink I might leave a pot.
Kitchen floors are necessary, but they sure don't stay clean,
It's the most important floor as you are in it a lot I scream.
Anne R. C. Neale is 85 years old. She taught outdoor education for 20 years. Anne still works at school as crossing guard. She has sent six free poems daily to 165 people for the past 18 years. She been writing poems since the age of 8 and has all of them in albums. She resides in New Jersey .
Treasures--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States
Treasures
Treasures are not so much
the silver and gold that most
everyone seems to desire
but they are things that are
sometimes small and simple
yet still an abundance of joy.
The birth of a child,
a wedding anniversary
of many years,
a family reunion,
watching our children grow
from a child into maturity,
the accomplishment of that
long and sometimes elusive goal,
singing a simple song,
writing a poem,
viewing the beauty of creation,
basking in the love of God.
These are the types of treasures
that mean so much.
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.
Treasures are not so much
the silver and gold that most
everyone seems to desire
but they are things that are
sometimes small and simple
yet still an abundance of joy.
The birth of a child,
a wedding anniversary
of many years,
a family reunion,
watching our children grow
from a child into maturity,
the accomplishment of that
long and sometimes elusive goal,
singing a simple song,
writing a poem,
viewing the beauty of creation,
basking in the love of God.
These are the types of treasures
that mean so much.
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.
Of Angels and Their Folded Wings--By Nikko Palmario--Philippines
Of Angels and Their Folded Wings
The angels, with their folded wings
walk on silent ground
They know not whether
to weep,
or wield their sighing harps.
It seems like hearts are stones,
or jewels would they be?
Precious gems, maybe.
Of different hues,
with scattered light.
Encrusted, unpolished
by time and tears,
by things spoken and not...
The angels, moving forward--
with their timid halos
and shorn heads-
their soles
touching sacred ground.
Nikko Palmario is someone who enjoys dabbling with words and chocolate.
The angels, with their folded wings
walk on silent ground
They know not whether
to weep,
or wield their sighing harps.
It seems like hearts are stones,
or jewels would they be?
Precious gems, maybe.
Of different hues,
with scattered light.
Encrusted, unpolished
by time and tears,
by things spoken and not...
The angels, moving forward--
with their timid halos
and shorn heads-
their soles
touching sacred ground.
Nikko Palmario is someone who enjoys dabbling with words and chocolate.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Ten Below Variations--By David Austin--United States
Ten Below Variations
it’s ten below
no place to go
warm roots asleep
sunny sky high
ten degrees below
birds like shadows in the snow
branches
weave a tangled web
ten below with snow
so cozy inside
coffee
my fat persian licks itself
drifting snow
ten below zero
mind sliding down a rooftop
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.
it’s ten below
no place to go
warm roots asleep
sunny sky high
ten degrees below
birds like shadows in the snow
branches
weave a tangled web
ten below with snow
so cozy inside
coffee
my fat persian licks itself
drifting snow
ten below zero
mind sliding down a rooftop
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.
Shadows Cast By Sun--By Andrea Dietrich--United States
Shadows Cast By Sun
Oh, friends! They come and go; some pass on by
As swiftly as the sun that lights my days.
They give a little wave; I give a sigh.
It seems I barely had them in my gaze.
Sweet friends I knew from youth. Where have you gone?
My bonds with some of you I felt were strong,
But journeys that we each embarked upon
Divided us, and now I write this song.
Its lyrics tell the longing of my heart-
To see and be again with each dear friend
Who knew me when and shared a special part
which cannot be retrieved nor has an end.
For memories are shadows cast by Sun
Which haunt me even when my days are done.
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.
Oh, friends! They come and go; some pass on by
As swiftly as the sun that lights my days.
They give a little wave; I give a sigh.
It seems I barely had them in my gaze.
Sweet friends I knew from youth. Where have you gone?
My bonds with some of you I felt were strong,
But journeys that we each embarked upon
Divided us, and now I write this song.
Its lyrics tell the longing of my heart-
To see and be again with each dear friend
Who knew me when and shared a special part
which cannot be retrieved nor has an end.
For memories are shadows cast by Sun
Which haunt me even when my days are done.
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.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Key to Dreams--By Suzanne Delaney--United States
Key to Dreams
I remember them,
pale thoughts phrased in darkness-
like an instant in time.
The keys to a sea wind-to pearl tears
and memories grown luminous as wings.
Acres of goodness grow and glimmer
within dreams.
In the cool, bright, lavender mist of dawn we rise
ready to begin.
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.
I remember them,
pale thoughts phrased in darkness-
like an instant in time.
The keys to a sea wind-to pearl tears
and memories grown luminous as wings.
Acres of goodness grow and glimmer
within dreams.
In the cool, bright, lavender mist of dawn we rise
ready to begin.
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.
He is Waiting--By Helen Dowd--Canada
He is Waiting
When the world is turned against you,
And you think there’s none to care;
When it seems you’re all alone, and feeling blue;
If you’ll turn your eyes on Jesus,
You will find Him standing there.
He is waiting: He has always been with you.
When the devil comes to tempt you,
Or he’s caught you in sin’s snare;
When he says that he will never let you go;
Then just turn your back on Satan,
Simply leave him standing there.
Christ is waiting: He will snatch you from your foe.
When you feel your life is hopeless,
Filled with trials and with care;
When you’re burdened down with problems and with stress;
Then just look up to the Savior,
And let Him your burdens bear.
He is waiting: He will give you happiness.
Helen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 56 years, writing poetry, story poems, stories about pets and life in general, as well as inspirational and Bible stories. She has one book published. Her stories and poems have been published in several Anthologies. She is presently a caregiver for her husband and sister, two dogs, four cats and 3 gold fish…Email address: helenmdowd@shaw.ca
When the world is turned against you,
And you think there’s none to care;
When it seems you’re all alone, and feeling blue;
If you’ll turn your eyes on Jesus,
You will find Him standing there.
He is waiting: He has always been with you.
When the devil comes to tempt you,
Or he’s caught you in sin’s snare;
When he says that he will never let you go;
Then just turn your back on Satan,
Simply leave him standing there.
Christ is waiting: He will snatch you from your foe.
When you feel your life is hopeless,
Filled with trials and with care;
When you’re burdened down with problems and with stress;
Then just look up to the Savior,
And let Him your burdens bear.
He is waiting: He will give you happiness.
Helen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 56 years, writing poetry, story poems, stories about pets and life in general, as well as inspirational and Bible stories. She has one book published. Her stories and poems have been published in several Anthologies. She is presently a caregiver for her husband and sister, two dogs, four cats and 3 gold fish…Email address: helenmdowd@shaw.ca
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
The King--By Stacy Savage--United States
The King
There is a beast in the animal world.
He brings many creatures fright.
His eyes are gold; he wears a mane.
He’s a ghost within the night.
There was a man with hair of black
And many jumpsuits he would wear.
He once disturbed Ed Sullivan
When his hips swung on the air.
There is a man that many love.
To Mary Magdalene he was born.
He died for us so we may live,
And he arose on Easter morn.
There was a man of power.
He had a jester who would clown.
His son a prince, his wife a queen
And on his head he wore a crown.
Whether it’s the beast with mighty roar,
Or the man who’d sweetly sing,
Or the man on the cross or man with knights,
They will always be known as the king.
Stacy Savage has published six books. Her most recent anthology, Naturally Yours: Poems and Short Stories about Indiana State Parks and Reservoirs, benefits Indiana Natural Resources Foundation's "Discovering the Outdoors Fund.” Stacy believes in mixing poetry and good causes together. Visit her Facebook page to keep up-to-date on her poetry contests: https://www.facebook.com/poetrycontestsforacause.
There is a beast in the animal world.
He brings many creatures fright.
His eyes are gold; he wears a mane.
He’s a ghost within the night.
There was a man with hair of black
And many jumpsuits he would wear.
He once disturbed Ed Sullivan
When his hips swung on the air.
There is a man that many love.
To Mary Magdalene he was born.
He died for us so we may live,
And he arose on Easter morn.
There was a man of power.
He had a jester who would clown.
His son a prince, his wife a queen
And on his head he wore a crown.
Whether it’s the beast with mighty roar,
Or the man who’d sweetly sing,
Or the man on the cross or man with knights,
They will always be known as the king.
Stacy Savage has published six books. Her most recent anthology, Naturally Yours: Poems and Short Stories about Indiana State Parks and Reservoirs, benefits Indiana Natural Resources Foundation's "Discovering the Outdoors Fund.” Stacy believes in mixing poetry and good causes together. Visit her Facebook page to keep up-to-date on her poetry contests: https://www.facebook.com/poetrycontestsforacause.
haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States
cathedral quiet
in the closet
where she hides
______________
last day of spring
some of the sky
cupped in her hands
______________
dust motes
we don't really
die alone
______________
you and me and our 60 watt life
______________
another death expanding silence
______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies:L The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. He is currently editing another anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, due to be released in 2014.
in the closet
where she hides
______________
last day of spring
some of the sky
cupped in her hands
______________
dust motes
we don't really
die alone
______________
you and me and our 60 watt life
______________
another death expanding silence
______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies:L The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. He is currently editing another anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, due to be released in 2014.
January in Dallas--By Jean Calkins--United States
January in Dallas
January seven;
the city of Dallas
icebound, silent
January eleven;
still some ice remaining
on streets and lawns
January twenty-six;
among the half-grown daffodils
the year's first robin
January twenty-seven
Dallas wind chill minus five;
shivering robins
January twenty-eight
Dallas wind chill minus eleven;
no birds in sight
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.
January seven;
the city of Dallas
icebound, silent
January eleven;
still some ice remaining
on streets and lawns
January twenty-six;
among the half-grown daffodils
the year's first robin
January twenty-seven
Dallas wind chill minus five;
shivering robins
January twenty-eight
Dallas wind chill minus eleven;
no birds in sight
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.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Requiem for the living--By Ranu Uniyal--India
Requiem for the living
I am a ripe mango ready to fall my dad says
each afternoon whenever I make it a point to visit him,
this life sullen as a cone that has had its fill
drips and we hang on with our mouthful.
Delicious is the taste of dasheri on his worn-out lips.
I am often taken in by the toothless smile ready to curl
as I count the Sundays we have spent together
Sundays he loves to hold a durbar with his son’s progeny
They treat his ancient visage with faint humour.
It runs in the family. Believe me it is his voice
Brazen and sharp, very youthful that can match his grace.
And the rest of us are put to shame.
(First published in December Poems 2012)
dasheri - one variety of mango.
_____________
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 am a ripe mango ready to fall my dad says
each afternoon whenever I make it a point to visit him,
this life sullen as a cone that has had its fill
drips and we hang on with our mouthful.
Delicious is the taste of dasheri on his worn-out lips.
I am often taken in by the toothless smile ready to curl
as I count the Sundays we have spent together
Sundays he loves to hold a durbar with his son’s progeny
They treat his ancient visage with faint humour.
It runs in the family. Believe me it is his voice
Brazen and sharp, very youthful that can match his grace.
And the rest of us are put to shame.
(First published in December Poems 2012)
dasheri - one variety of mango.
_____________
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.
A Little Bit of Heaven--By Christine Tate--United States
A Little Bit of Heaven
The view from my sunroom
leaves me awestruck every day...
baby rabbits frolicking
and squirrels hard at play.
Young fawns sample leaves,
always stopping to stare...
larger deer not far behind
stand guard with loving care.
birds fluttering in my birdbath
bless the cockles of my heart...
what a way to end a day
or what a way to start!
I'm thankful for this vista
outside my sunroom windows...
it's a little bit of heaven,
a gift that God bestows!
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."
The view from my sunroom
leaves me awestruck every day...
baby rabbits frolicking
and squirrels hard at play.
Young fawns sample leaves,
always stopping to stare...
larger deer not far behind
stand guard with loving care.
birds fluttering in my birdbath
bless the cockles of my heart...
what a way to end a day
or what a way to start!
I'm thankful for this vista
outside my sunroom windows...
it's a little bit of heaven,
a gift that God bestows!
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."
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Rainbow of Life--By Barbara Siekierski--United States
Rainbow of Life
A rainbow is like a dream
that fades away only to be
a memory of beautiful colors.
A rainbow hides behind clouds
only to reveal itself in all
its splendor and wonder.
A rainbow is God’s presence,
such a gift in our lives.
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
A rainbow is like a dream
that fades away only to be
a memory of beautiful colors.
A rainbow hides behind clouds
only to reveal itself in all
its splendor and wonder.
A rainbow is God’s presence,
such a gift in our lives.
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Outsmarted Again--By Peter Dome--United Kingdom
Outsmarted Again
Banana sandwich
bread and jam
piece of cake
slice of ham
well done steak
Turn around to get a plate
from a rack
Gone!
Two little innocent faces
with wagging tails
staring back.
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
Banana sandwich
bread and jam
piece of cake
slice of ham
well done steak
Turn around to get a plate
from a rack
Gone!
Two little innocent faces
with wagging tails
staring back.
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
A Winter’s Memory--By Rhoda Galgiani--United States
A Winter’s Memory
Winter wonderland captures crystal
teardrops in children’s eyes as they gaze,
Swirling and twirling, a dancing festival of joy
showering them with sparkling rays
Delicate snowflakes kissing fingertips
of children reaching for the frosty sky,
Looking and wondering who makes the snow,
but their innocence’s never question as to why
Loving laughter fills the air as families with
friends watch snowflakes dance in a frozen glow,
Happiness surrounds our precious children
everywhere they romp and play, always on the go
Snowmen alive, driving sleds for the children to ride
laughing happily as they cry a crystal tear,
for joy within their childish hearts
comes to them, but only once a year -
gifting them a winter's memory of love
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
Winter wonderland captures crystal
teardrops in children’s eyes as they gaze,
Swirling and twirling, a dancing festival of joy
showering them with sparkling rays
Delicate snowflakes kissing fingertips
of children reaching for the frosty sky,
Looking and wondering who makes the snow,
but their innocence’s never question as to why
Loving laughter fills the air as families with
friends watch snowflakes dance in a frozen glow,
Happiness surrounds our precious children
everywhere they romp and play, always on the go
Snowmen alive, driving sleds for the children to ride
laughing happily as they cry a crystal tear,
for joy within their childish hearts
comes to them, but only once a year -
gifting them a winter's memory of love
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
A Moment Before…--By Richard Sponaugle--United States
A Moment Before…
Ten month old Mary
was stomping awkwardly in her crib,
a frantic ranger putting out a forest fire.
But there’s no warning flames of death,
and Mary now lies silent in her crib,
a motionless Barbie doll minus the strings
to make her walk or talk or cry…
The deafening sounds of Mary’s non crying
turn her parents into spontaneous
yet synchronized sprinters,
covering the five yards to her crib
in one second flat.
They beg Mary to move, but don’t sob;
their eyes are dried out wells,
having lost infant Mike the same way
a short-yet-eternal year ago.
Tom and Tammy both sense
they’ve married a serial child killer.
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS)
has claimed four victims of the Fry family.
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.
Ten month old Mary
was stomping awkwardly in her crib,
a frantic ranger putting out a forest fire.
But there’s no warning flames of death,
and Mary now lies silent in her crib,
a motionless Barbie doll minus the strings
to make her walk or talk or cry…
The deafening sounds of Mary’s non crying
turn her parents into spontaneous
yet synchronized sprinters,
covering the five yards to her crib
in one second flat.
They beg Mary to move, but don’t sob;
their eyes are dried out wells,
having lost infant Mike the same way
a short-yet-eternal year ago.
Tom and Tammy both sense
they’ve married a serial child killer.
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS)
has claimed four victims of the Fry family.
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.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Awakening--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada
Awakening
Roused by the sweet sounds of birds that sing of a new day,
A warm breeze speaks softly, gathering one into the arms of hope.
As the soft, golden hands of sun reach out, touching fire to the soul.
High above the passing clouds are dreams awakening in a blue sky.
Sandra Stefanowich is from Ontario.
Roused by the sweet sounds of birds that sing of a new day,
A warm breeze speaks softly, gathering one into the arms of hope.
As the soft, golden hands of sun reach out, touching fire to the soul.
High above the passing clouds are dreams awakening in a blue sky.
Sandra Stefanowich is from Ontario.
She Remembers--By Carolyn Devonshire--United States
She Remembers
bits and pieces of the past
kaleidoscope of fractured memories
streets once familiar, now are mazes
faces haunt her dreams
former friends and lovers
their names she forgets
in the fog of confusion
occasional rays of sun still rise
she remembers a joyful childhood
loving parents with good values
she remembers her life is in God’s hands
and never forgets to express her gratitude
for the many blessings bestowed
A Florida writer, Carolyn enjoys writing humor but also receives inspiration from nature and people who touch her life. She has enjoyed co-writing with other poets and finds that both writers grow when they share their thoughts. She has spent most of her life as a reporter and a writer for magazines.
bits and pieces of the past
kaleidoscope of fractured memories
streets once familiar, now are mazes
faces haunt her dreams
former friends and lovers
their names she forgets
in the fog of confusion
occasional rays of sun still rise
she remembers a joyful childhood
loving parents with good values
she remembers her life is in God’s hands
and never forgets to express her gratitude
for the many blessings bestowed
A Florida writer, Carolyn enjoys writing humor but also receives inspiration from nature and people who touch her life. She has enjoyed co-writing with other poets and finds that both writers grow when they share their thoughts. She has spent most of her life as a reporter and a writer for magazines.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Look Ahead--By Jack Horne--England
Look Ahead
A time for us to look ahead,
And stay up late, not go to bed,
Indulge in naughty treats before
It’s midnight and we vow, ‘No more.’
We eat and drink and dance and sing,
The family party in full swing,
But soon begins the counting fun -
We start at ten, countdown to one.
And hush! The clock strikes twelve at last:
It’s time to cheer, forget the past.
A fresh new start, the slate wiped clean -
And make this one the best we’ve seen!
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
A time for us to look ahead,
And stay up late, not go to bed,
Indulge in naughty treats before
It’s midnight and we vow, ‘No more.’
We eat and drink and dance and sing,
The family party in full swing,
But soon begins the counting fun -
We start at ten, countdown to one.
And hush! The clock strikes twelve at last:
It’s time to cheer, forget the past.
A fresh new start, the slate wiped clean -
And make this one the best we’ve seen!
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
Those Magical Days--By Charlene McCutcheon--United States
Those Magical Days
Dear Grandma made many treats on her old pot-bellied,
black stove, standing in the center of her quaint kitchen.
She was so kind and loving to me, a curious little child,
who delighted in observing what she could conjure up.
Carefully she stoked the stove with wood Grandpa split.
I watched expectantly as she mixed with a fork, a little
flour and water in a pan and sat it on the searing stove.
Stirring constantly it began to bubble, boil then thicken.
Grandma promised paste to an anxiously awaiting child.
"Get the old catalogs on the shelf over there Charlene.
You can cut out paper dolls; a mother, father and baby
brother, then paste them in that little scrap book I made."
With blunt nosed scissors, old catalogs and tied papers,
obliviously, I whiled away the day at her kitchen table.
Grandma, creating a miraculous concoction just for me
on her old stove so I could paste cut outs, was pure love.
Charlene McCutcheon is a 73 year old, wife, mother of seven, grandmother of thirty and great-grandmother of 14. She has just discovered her voice through poetry within the last few years. Her former ways of expression have been through the media of arts and crafts. Her desire to share herself with others for their benefit has been the motivating factor in all her endeavors. She loves life, work, play and most of all people.
Dear Grandma made many treats on her old pot-bellied,
black stove, standing in the center of her quaint kitchen.
She was so kind and loving to me, a curious little child,
who delighted in observing what she could conjure up.
Carefully she stoked the stove with wood Grandpa split.
I watched expectantly as she mixed with a fork, a little
flour and water in a pan and sat it on the searing stove.
Stirring constantly it began to bubble, boil then thicken.
Grandma promised paste to an anxiously awaiting child.
"Get the old catalogs on the shelf over there Charlene.
You can cut out paper dolls; a mother, father and baby
brother, then paste them in that little scrap book I made."
With blunt nosed scissors, old catalogs and tied papers,
obliviously, I whiled away the day at her kitchen table.
Grandma, creating a miraculous concoction just for me
on her old stove so I could paste cut outs, was pure love.
Charlene McCutcheon is a 73 year old, wife, mother of seven, grandmother of thirty and great-grandmother of 14. She has just discovered her voice through poetry within the last few years. Her former ways of expression have been through the media of arts and crafts. Her desire to share herself with others for their benefit has been the motivating factor in all her endeavors. She loves life, work, play and most of all people.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
My Angel My Love--By Leokadia Durmaj--Australia
My Angel My Love
She is the angel who has come from afar
The vision he sees when he closes his eyes,
She has waited for him for such a long time
“Look no more my love I’m here in your arms”.
In the heavens their love has evolved
In every song he hears her name can be heard,
He sees her angel eyes looking into his soul
Caressing every part of his body this angel adores.
The magical dance of love begins
Under the stars they fulfill all their dreams,
She is the angel he has longed for all his life
The one who has captured his loving heart!
Together forever their hearts are entwined
The love of this angel a gift from above,
No longer is he lonely at night in his bed
His angel beside him sleeps soundly instead.
What is this miracle that has come to be?
When two souls touched this angel appeared,
Eyes like the stars shined upon him
This angel of love has fulfilled every dream.
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
She is the angel who has come from afar
The vision he sees when he closes his eyes,
She has waited for him for such a long time
“Look no more my love I’m here in your arms”.
In the heavens their love has evolved
In every song he hears her name can be heard,
He sees her angel eyes looking into his soul
Caressing every part of his body this angel adores.
The magical dance of love begins
Under the stars they fulfill all their dreams,
She is the angel he has longed for all his life
The one who has captured his loving heart!
Together forever their hearts are entwined
The love of this angel a gift from above,
No longer is he lonely at night in his bed
His angel beside him sleeps soundly instead.
What is this miracle that has come to be?
When two souls touched this angel appeared,
Eyes like the stars shined upon him
This angel of love has fulfilled every dream.
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
Good Morning, Mister Sun--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States
Good Morning, Mister Sun
Good Morning, Mister Sun! How I cherish thy warm embrace,
And the gentle touch of thy radiance as you caress my eager face!
May few clouds dim your majesty as you traverse the pristine sky!
We're blessed with thy life-sustaining rays streaming from on high!
Oft' I've pondered how many times you've ascended in the east
And descended in the west! Must be trillions of times to say the least!
Ah, the many things you have witnessed since the genesis of time!
Love, strife, life itself - more than this mere poet could e'er put to rhyme!
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.
Good Morning, Mister Sun! How I cherish thy warm embrace,
And the gentle touch of thy radiance as you caress my eager face!
May few clouds dim your majesty as you traverse the pristine sky!
We're blessed with thy life-sustaining rays streaming from on high!
Oft' I've pondered how many times you've ascended in the east
And descended in the west! Must be trillions of times to say the least!
Ah, the many things you have witnessed since the genesis of time!
Love, strife, life itself - more than this mere poet could e'er put to rhyme!
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.
JANUARY ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN DECEMBER
Brian Whatcott--United States
John Daleiden--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Botswana, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States and Wales. I look forward to expanding this list in the future. Thank you to everyone that has supported Whispers in any way. --Sincerely, Karen
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Rhoda Galgiani released Expressions From the Inside Out, a book of poetry in 2011. Rhoda's second book is a child's story entitled No Snow for Johnny in 2012. Both books are published by APF Publisher. They have received good reviews and is available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Rhoda at: chesakat@verizon.net
Carolyn Devonshire, Sandra Stefanowich and Jack Horne announce the release of their collaboration poetry book, Shades of Darkness and Light. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $2.50 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Joann Grisetti released In The Quiet Valley, a book of short poems in 2013. This book is now available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Joann directly at gneissmom@aol.com
Jack Horne announces the release of his debut novel, A Ghost Hunt: a paranormal romance. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $3.99 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Eunice.Gaba,Rafywa released her first poetry book titled, The Poet in Me in September 24, 2013 published by Xlibrispublishing. It is her very first book as a writer which has not had many reviews yet and it is available for reviews online @amazon.com, Barnes and noble and the e-book is also available in kindle.com (search The Poet in Me under Eunice. Gaba.Rafywa) OR contact Eunice at; pythongal@yahoo.com gabaefew@yahoo.com
Ndaba Sibanda’s short story, "Of Tokoloshe And The Translator" has been published in India by Outside In Literary & Travel Magazine, and his poem "River Love" has been published by the Elohi Gadugi Journal. Links: http://outsideinmagazine.com/issue-fifteen/fiction/of-tikoloshi-and-the-translator-ndaba-sibanda/ http://egjournal.org/issue/fall-2013/article/river-love/
Robert Epstein, editor of the anthology, Now This: Contemporary Poems of Beginnings, Renewals, and Firsts, is pleased to announce its publication, which is available online at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Now-This-Contemporary-Beginnings-Renewals/dp/1600478956/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1380645452&sr=8-1&keywords=robert+epstein%2C+now+this
(Editor note--Thank you Robert for including my poem in this anthology. For those who enjoy haiku, I recommend this book.)
Brian Strand's latest poetry publication on kindle is AURAL PHRASIS on the POETIC and is available from Amazon at this link http://www.amazon.co.uk/AURAL-PHRASIS-Poetic-VERSE-ebook/dp/B00H14PGYI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387486988&sr=8-1&keywords=aural+phrasis+on+the+poetic+by+brian+strand
John W. (Bill) Williams published a science fiction book that he also illustrated called The Dream Hill. To order copies from Xlibris Company call 1-888-795-4274 or go to www.Xlibris.com The website provides sample pages of the book for interested readers.
Karen O’Leary makes homemade cards with poetry and other features. With cards in stores getting so expensive, she would like to offer the opportunity to have cards with your poetry or cards she designs for occasions made to fit your needs. She will be charging $2 for United States and $3 (US currency only) for other countries including postage. Cards will include envelopes ready for mailing to others. Sample cards are available. Please contact her a gksm@cableone.net if you would like to discuss options or if you want her mailing address to order a sample card.
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Please consider supporting The Pen, The Jokester, and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
Karen O’Leary believes Creative Inspirations is about coming together in an uplifting way. For the magazine’s first challenge of the year, she would like to attempt a community poem. The title is below with the first two lines as an example:
Of One Song
Hands and hearts in harmony,
peace on earth with unity
Please submit two rhymed lines of seven syllables each to gksm@cableone.net by January 30 for consideration for the March/April issue. For variety, submitted lines do not need to rhyme with the above. I will arrange the couplets in order that best enhances the flow and overall message. Authors will be credited at the end of the poem as follows--Lines 1-2 by Karen O’Leary. Contributors will we able to purchase copies at discounted rates.
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).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
Brian Whatcott--United States
John Daleiden--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Botswana, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States and Wales. I look forward to expanding this list in the future. Thank you to everyone that has supported Whispers in any way. --Sincerely, Karen
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Rhoda Galgiani released Expressions From the Inside Out, a book of poetry in 2011. Rhoda's second book is a child's story entitled No Snow for Johnny in 2012. Both books are published by APF Publisher. They have received good reviews and is available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Rhoda at: chesakat@verizon.net
Carolyn Devonshire, Sandra Stefanowich and Jack Horne announce the release of their collaboration poetry book, Shades of Darkness and Light. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $2.50 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Joann Grisetti released In The Quiet Valley, a book of short poems in 2013. This book is now available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Joann directly at gneissmom@aol.com
Jack Horne announces the release of his debut novel, A Ghost Hunt: a paranormal romance. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $3.99 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Eunice.Gaba,Rafywa released her first poetry book titled, The Poet in Me in September 24, 2013 published by Xlibrispublishing. It is her very first book as a writer which has not had many reviews yet and it is available for reviews online @amazon.com, Barnes and noble and the e-book is also available in kindle.com (search The Poet in Me under Eunice. Gaba.Rafywa) OR contact Eunice at; pythongal@yahoo.com gabaefew@yahoo.com
Ndaba Sibanda’s short story, "Of Tokoloshe And The Translator" has been published in India by Outside In Literary & Travel Magazine, and his poem "River Love" has been published by the Elohi Gadugi Journal. Links: http://outsideinmagazine.com/issue-fifteen/fiction/of-tikoloshi-and-the-translator-ndaba-sibanda/ http://egjournal.org/issue/fall-2013/article/river-love/
Robert Epstein, editor of the anthology, Now This: Contemporary Poems of Beginnings, Renewals, and Firsts, is pleased to announce its publication, which is available online at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Now-This-Contemporary-Beginnings-Renewals/dp/1600478956/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1380645452&sr=8-1&keywords=robert+epstein%2C+now+this
(Editor note--Thank you Robert for including my poem in this anthology. For those who enjoy haiku, I recommend this book.)
Brian Strand's latest poetry publication on kindle is AURAL PHRASIS on the POETIC and is available from Amazon at this link http://www.amazon.co.uk/AURAL-PHRASIS-Poetic-VERSE-ebook/dp/B00H14PGYI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387486988&sr=8-1&keywords=aural+phrasis+on+the+poetic+by+brian+strand
John W. (Bill) Williams published a science fiction book that he also illustrated called The Dream Hill. To order copies from Xlibris Company call 1-888-795-4274 or go to www.Xlibris.com The website provides sample pages of the book for interested readers.
Karen O’Leary makes homemade cards with poetry and other features. With cards in stores getting so expensive, she would like to offer the opportunity to have cards with your poetry or cards she designs for occasions made to fit your needs. She will be charging $2 for United States and $3 (US currency only) for other countries including postage. Cards will include envelopes ready for mailing to others. Sample cards are available. Please contact her a gksm@cableone.net if you would like to discuss options or if you want her mailing address to order a sample card.
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Please consider supporting The Pen, The Jokester, and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
Karen O’Leary believes Creative Inspirations is about coming together in an uplifting way. For the magazine’s first challenge of the year, she would like to attempt a community poem. The title is below with the first two lines as an example:
Of One Song
Hands and hearts in harmony,
peace on earth with unity
Please submit two rhymed lines of seven syllables each to gksm@cableone.net by January 30 for consideration for the March/April issue. For variety, submitted lines do not need to rhyme with the above. I will arrange the couplets in order that best enhances the flow and overall message. Authors will be credited at the end of the poem as follows--Lines 1-2 by Karen O’Leary. Contributors will we able to purchase copies at discounted rates.
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).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
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