Silently I Walked
Silently I walked
upon the dawn of day
remembering the time we spent
as the sun climbed away
With subtle hints of spring
blossoming buds lined the way
I roamed through endless woods
dreaming of yesterday
Twenty years have passed
and I still recall our song
of endless love and laughter
oh how I long
__________________________
Beneath the mighty cottonwood
in thought I lie alone
with all the things I should have done
now forever etched in stone
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
Painting pictures with words. Opening a part of the soul. Emotion flowing with the lines. Tapestry skillfully woven. Reflecting thoughts artfully. Yearning to make a difference. --Karen O'Leary--Whispers' Editor
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
Fallen Leaf--By Jim Teeters--United States
Fallen Leaf
When I step off
the spinning wheel
my future flashes before me
holds me captive
must find my center
shake myself free
need to be a
fallen leaf
still
ready
for God’s breath
to whisk me
where I need to go
Jim Teeters has published poetry in several anthologies. He conducts poetry workshops for children and adults and is active in poetry readings in the Seattle area through the Striped Water Poets. He is the author of six poetry collections and the book, Teach with Style, (ASTD Press July 2013). Jim is a retired social worker living in Kent, Washington.
When I step off
the spinning wheel
my future flashes before me
holds me captive
must find my center
shake myself free
need to be a
fallen leaf
still
ready
for God’s breath
to whisk me
where I need to go
Jim Teeters has published poetry in several anthologies. He conducts poetry workshops for children and adults and is active in poetry readings in the Seattle area through the Striped Water Poets. He is the author of six poetry collections and the book, Teach with Style, (ASTD Press July 2013). Jim is a retired social worker living in Kent, Washington.
A Poet's Pen--By Yvonne Sparkes--England
A Poet's Pen
Give me a poet's pen, a poet's mind,
A poet's heart and then to find,
A spirit rare, an eye to see,
A love of nature passionately.
Give me a solitude, a peace within,
A way with words and then begin,
A perfect rhyme, a wordsmith true,
Inspiring wisdom old yet new.
Let my soul wake and then at last,
Forget the dimness of the past
The Phoenix rise to find her flight,
Erase the staleness with delight.
May challenge to the muse thus bring
A melody, a song to sing,
A song to last forever more,
An opening to heaven's door.
Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes, immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents. She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons. She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images. A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain. She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.
Give me a poet's pen, a poet's mind,
A poet's heart and then to find,
A spirit rare, an eye to see,
A love of nature passionately.
Give me a solitude, a peace within,
A way with words and then begin,
A perfect rhyme, a wordsmith true,
Inspiring wisdom old yet new.
Let my soul wake and then at last,
Forget the dimness of the past
The Phoenix rise to find her flight,
Erase the staleness with delight.
May challenge to the muse thus bring
A melody, a song to sing,
A song to last forever more,
An opening to heaven's door.
Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes, immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents. She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons. She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images. A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain. She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Haiku--By Ron C. Moss--Australia
homecoming
hands held together
in a deep bow
_______________
invincible summer
fence wire tightens
in the heat
_______________
loading a brush . . .
the colour
of rain
_______________
ripples
sinking
in silence
_______________
the wind's chill
whitening
the cracks
_______________
All Haiku published by Haigaonline -Vol 12, issue 1, June 2011
To view Ron's haiga see--http://www.haigaonline.com/issue12-1/issue.html
_______________
Ron C. Moss is a Tasmania visual artist, poet and lover of haiku. His poetry has won international awards and been translated into several languages. Ron's art is sold as limited edition-prints and originals. He has been featured in poetry journals and has designed several award winning poetry books. Ron is a two time winner of the Haiku Society of America International renku competition, and he is a current member on the Haiku Society of America. Please check out Ron’s website--www.ronmoss.com
hands held together
in a deep bow
_______________
invincible summer
fence wire tightens
in the heat
_______________
loading a brush . . .
the colour
of rain
_______________
ripples
sinking
in silence
_______________
the wind's chill
whitening
the cracks
_______________
All Haiku published by Haigaonline -Vol 12, issue 1, June 2011
To view Ron's haiga see--http://www.haigaonline.com/issue12-1/issue.html
_______________
Ron C. Moss is a Tasmania visual artist, poet and lover of haiku. His poetry has won international awards and been translated into several languages. Ron's art is sold as limited edition-prints and originals. He has been featured in poetry journals and has designed several award winning poetry books. Ron is a two time winner of the Haiku Society of America International renku competition, and he is a current member on the Haiku Society of America. Please check out Ron’s website--www.ronmoss.com
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Spring--By Karen O'Leary--United States
Spring
Season that bursts with new life
Sparkling hues alive with hope
Souls absorb the gift of light
Sustained by faith in the word
Spreading the seeds for rebirth
Slender sprouts grow strong in grace
Spring bursts forth, alive in God
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.
Season that bursts with new life
Sparkling hues alive with hope
Souls absorb the gift of light
Sustained by faith in the word
Spreading the seeds for rebirth
Slender sprouts grow strong in grace
Spring bursts forth, alive in God
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.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By George L. Ellison, England and Dena M. Ferrari, United States
Moonlight On the Shore
By George L. Ellison and Dena M. Ferrari
Moonlight on a tranquil shore
Rippling waves tracing patterns galore
A Gull cries out in the dead of night
As surf breaks at the water’s edge without might
Fresh and cool the salt sea air
Happy am I with you so near
How happy am I to be here cuddling with you
Embraced by the salt sea air and your arms so true
Tide washes in sparkling under the moons light
Gull tucks its head under its wing and sleeps for the night
A dolphin leaps high for pure joy splashes
As we watch the sea under the stars as a comet dashes
Sharing this magical moment of ours
Watching the clear sky and its meteor showers
Making a wish that this night will never end
With you by my side who are more than a friend
Feeling the sand between our toes
What lies before us God only knows
Here’s to the wish we cast on that shooting star
The future is ours no matter how far
The mystery of life will always continue
As long as love is alive and I’m with you
Here’s to watching the dawn’s new day
Glowing in the horizon as dolphins splash and play
Moonlight on a tranquil shore
Rippling waves tracing patterns galore
A Gull cries out in the dead of night
As surf breaks at the water’s edge without might
Fresh and cool the salt sea air
Happy am I with you so near
By George L. Ellison and Dena M. Ferrari
Moonlight on a tranquil shore
Rippling waves tracing patterns galore
A Gull cries out in the dead of night
As surf breaks at the water’s edge without might
Fresh and cool the salt sea air
Happy am I with you so near
How happy am I to be here cuddling with you
Embraced by the salt sea air and your arms so true
Tide washes in sparkling under the moons light
Gull tucks its head under its wing and sleeps for the night
A dolphin leaps high for pure joy splashes
As we watch the sea under the stars as a comet dashes
Sharing this magical moment of ours
Watching the clear sky and its meteor showers
Making a wish that this night will never end
With you by my side who are more than a friend
Feeling the sand between our toes
What lies before us God only knows
Here’s to the wish we cast on that shooting star
The future is ours no matter how far
The mystery of life will always continue
As long as love is alive and I’m with you
Here’s to watching the dawn’s new day
Glowing in the horizon as dolphins splash and play
Moonlight on a tranquil shore
Rippling waves tracing patterns galore
A Gull cries out in the dead of night
As surf breaks at the water’s edge without might
Fresh and cool the salt sea air
Happy am I with you so near
MICHIGAN--By James Rasmusson--United States
MICHIGAN
Mishigama my love,
Into your water wonderland of brook trout and deer I
Can hear the cherubic song of chirping robin and rustling pine.
Heavenly harbors and pristine beaches shape a welcoming hand
Infused with indigo lakes and teeming streams while four
Great lakes enshroud to form a kirlian aura of rippling verve.
Alive for but a flicker of time, my Michigan home away from Home
Nurtures and readies me for the final cruise to the Wonderland of Love.
Author’s note: The word ‘Michigan’ is a Frenchification of the Ojibwe word ‘Mishigama’ which means ‘large water’. The reference to a "welcoming hand" has a multiple meaning which includes the fact that Michigan looks like a hand.
James began writing in the 1960’s and immediately showed a love for seasonal, humorous, and philosophical poetry. In the late 70’s, he became an ardent photographer and soon found that the two artistic mediums cross pollinated each other. West Michigan is an art Mecca with over 100 galleries and art camps with Jim residing in the lovely coastal town of Holland, Michigan. A practitioner of Surat Shabd Yoga since 1972, his art is an expression of his lifetime love affair with nature and his quest for truth. James is the winner of many awards in both photography and poetry including the 2005 Shadow Poetry 5th biannual chapbook competition. The artist says he likes to underscore the abstract and tease the mind and be ever alert for juxtapositions that express irony, absurdity, and poignancy, desiring for people to feel both tension and resolution in his compositions.
Mishigama my love,
Into your water wonderland of brook trout and deer I
Can hear the cherubic song of chirping robin and rustling pine.
Heavenly harbors and pristine beaches shape a welcoming hand
Infused with indigo lakes and teeming streams while four
Great lakes enshroud to form a kirlian aura of rippling verve.
Alive for but a flicker of time, my Michigan home away from Home
Nurtures and readies me for the final cruise to the Wonderland of Love.
Author’s note: The word ‘Michigan’ is a Frenchification of the Ojibwe word ‘Mishigama’ which means ‘large water’. The reference to a "welcoming hand" has a multiple meaning which includes the fact that Michigan looks like a hand.
James began writing in the 1960’s and immediately showed a love for seasonal, humorous, and philosophical poetry. In the late 70’s, he became an ardent photographer and soon found that the two artistic mediums cross pollinated each other. West Michigan is an art Mecca with over 100 galleries and art camps with Jim residing in the lovely coastal town of Holland, Michigan. A practitioner of Surat Shabd Yoga since 1972, his art is an expression of his lifetime love affair with nature and his quest for truth. James is the winner of many awards in both photography and poetry including the 2005 Shadow Poetry 5th biannual chapbook competition. The artist says he likes to underscore the abstract and tease the mind and be ever alert for juxtapositions that express irony, absurdity, and poignancy, desiring for people to feel both tension and resolution in his compositions.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Beyond the Veil--By Jan Henson--Turkey
Beyond the Veil
Over misty moor and windswept dale
My love disappeared beyond the veil.
T’was on a night, so far in the past,
That I thought I had found love to last.
It would have brooked the trials of life
And weathered many strong storms and strife.
We loved as only true sweethearts could
As we knew that for all time we would.
It came to us as the colour black
As across the Earth it left it’s track.
So many dead of this evil plague
Just a few of us survived the ague.
Four days and nights waging your war
‘Til you succumbed to the evil spore.
Upon the tor, with the lonesome tree,
You are resting with our children, wee.
Over misty moor and windswept dale
I come to join you beyond the veil.
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.
Over misty moor and windswept dale
My love disappeared beyond the veil.
T’was on a night, so far in the past,
That I thought I had found love to last.
It would have brooked the trials of life
And weathered many strong storms and strife.
We loved as only true sweethearts could
As we knew that for all time we would.
It came to us as the colour black
As across the Earth it left it’s track.
So many dead of this evil plague
Just a few of us survived the ague.
Four days and nights waging your war
‘Til you succumbed to the evil spore.
Upon the tor, with the lonesome tree,
You are resting with our children, wee.
Over misty moor and windswept dale
I come to join you beyond the veil.
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.
New Beginnings--By Yancy Lee Dalton--United States
New Beginnings
New years resolutions forgotten
Blown away with march winds
Time for a real new beginning
Refreshing April is here at last
Aroma fills air with hope afresh
Inspiring everyone to start anew
Goodbye, boring old way of life
Shinning sun rays, April springs
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
New years resolutions forgotten
Blown away with march winds
Time for a real new beginning
Refreshing April is here at last
Aroma fills air with hope afresh
Inspiring everyone to start anew
Goodbye, boring old way of life
Shinning sun rays, April springs
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Mirth--By Sara Kendrick--United States
Mirth
The chartreuse green tassels quietly fall
Stately oaks release their blossoms to the cool damp earth
Dew glitters like diamonds upon the spring grass so tall
Stillness and quiet suddenly awakened by mirth
Serenaded by birds and bees whose love is birthed
Butterflies' cocoons await the right time
To kiss or taste a new blossom that shines
Then they'll split forth and out will climb
Upon parsley, meadow rue, or daisies dine
Spring's the time for butterflies, and flowers to align
Sara Kendrick married young and had a family soon after. After her last child went to school, she decided to pursue her GED. A gentlemen who worked with the GED program encouraged her to enroll in college. She worked part time and cared for her family in addition to her studies. She graduated from Mercer University. Several years ago, after a health crisis, she started writing poetry.
The chartreuse green tassels quietly fall
Stately oaks release their blossoms to the cool damp earth
Dew glitters like diamonds upon the spring grass so tall
Stillness and quiet suddenly awakened by mirth
Serenaded by birds and bees whose love is birthed
Butterflies' cocoons await the right time
To kiss or taste a new blossom that shines
Then they'll split forth and out will climb
Upon parsley, meadow rue, or daisies dine
Spring's the time for butterflies, and flowers to align
Sara Kendrick married young and had a family soon after. After her last child went to school, she decided to pursue her GED. A gentlemen who worked with the GED program encouraged her to enroll in college. She worked part time and cared for her family in addition to her studies. She graduated from Mercer University. Several years ago, after a health crisis, she started writing poetry.
Starlight--By George L. Ellison--England
Starlight
Stars they glow in the night sky
But they’re not always visible to the eye
When the glorious sun shining bright
Dispels the darkness of the night
As day dawns they start to fade away
But they always reappear at the end of the day
Though I know they are there I just can’t see
Their twinkling lights to infinity
Soon days end it approaches fast
The setting of the sun means nights return at last
Once more stars twinkle for all they are worth
A joy to behold till days rebirth
George L. Ellison is a writer of poetry and short stories. He as published two books called Poetic Reminiscences and Weaving Words. George lives with his wife and dogs in Chester-Le-Street, County Durham in England. He is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance. He is currently working on his new project as well as learning to play the saxophone at the Sage Gateshead!
Stars they glow in the night sky
But they’re not always visible to the eye
When the glorious sun shining bright
Dispels the darkness of the night
As day dawns they start to fade away
But they always reappear at the end of the day
Though I know they are there I just can’t see
Their twinkling lights to infinity
Soon days end it approaches fast
The setting of the sun means nights return at last
Once more stars twinkle for all they are worth
A joy to behold till days rebirth
George L. Ellison is a writer of poetry and short stories. He as published two books called Poetic Reminiscences and Weaving Words. George lives with his wife and dogs in Chester-Le-Street, County Durham in England. He is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance. He is currently working on his new project as well as learning to play the saxophone at the Sage Gateshead!
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The Lavender Vehicle--By Brian Whatcott--United States
The Lavender Vehicle
Not intended to turn out that way,
rather an all-business battleship gray -
but wishes are only earnest wishes
and miles are as good as lunar misses
mix the base paint pristine white,
the black as dark as moonless night,
a little too much cerulean blue
to arrive at the predestined hue -
and what you get is lavender.
Spectators' conclusions hardly hinder,
who ever saw a manly horse trailer
painted in girly pastel purple pallor?
Brian Whatcott is a writer from Oklahoma. He and his wife, Norma, have three children. He enjoys flying, sailing and water-skiing.
Not intended to turn out that way,
rather an all-business battleship gray -
but wishes are only earnest wishes
and miles are as good as lunar misses
mix the base paint pristine white,
the black as dark as moonless night,
a little too much cerulean blue
to arrive at the predestined hue -
and what you get is lavender.
Spectators' conclusions hardly hinder,
who ever saw a manly horse trailer
painted in girly pastel purple pallor?
Brian Whatcott is a writer from Oklahoma. He and his wife, Norma, have three children. He enjoys flying, sailing and water-skiing.
Haiku--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India
spring hymn --
a nesting chickadee
warbles
_______________
monsoon clouds
over the coconut trees --
punting on backwaters
_______________
moonless night --
lanterns floating
in a lily pond
_______________
chaff blowing
over barley fields --
cirrus clouds
_______________
dappled sunlight --
melted snow on her
grave
_______________
Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of 6 books so far, and her winning stories are now part of international anthologies. She writes inspirational content for corporate newsletters, websites, blogs and print publications. Her inspirational poems touch every area of a person's life. She enjoys writing Haiku and Tanka as well. Visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her.
a nesting chickadee
warbles
_______________
monsoon clouds
over the coconut trees --
punting on backwaters
_______________
moonless night --
lanterns floating
in a lily pond
_______________
chaff blowing
over barley fields --
cirrus clouds
_______________
dappled sunlight --
melted snow on her
grave
_______________
Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of 6 books so far, and her winning stories are now part of international anthologies. She writes inspirational content for corporate newsletters, websites, blogs and print publications. Her inspirational poems touch every area of a person's life. She enjoys writing Haiku and Tanka as well. Visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Poet of the Month--Robert Hewett Sr.
‘Neath the Willow Tree
By Robert Hewett Sr.
I saw you sitting there, ‘neath the willow tree.
The still waters of the pond, like a mirror
in the sun, reflecting back in time
to happier days in your mind.
A book of poems was in your hands,
but your mind was in distant lands,
searching for words to ease your pain.
An image of a happy moment long ago
brings a smile and a twinkle in your eye.
Looking into the mirror in the pond
reflecting back in time to a younger day,
when love bloomed with flowers in the sun,
brought to life by the mirror in the pond.
If I could write words like the ones in your book
I would fill your heart with love and joy.
Songs of love never lost, new each day, and
there for you even at that distant sunset.
Reflections in the mirror in the pond
forming images of happier days and times.
If my words could make you turn each page,
with thoughts of love and contented ways,
I would be blessed and you know the rest.
Read, fair lady, and let your mind float.
In those pages never lost in time
find the words that fill your lonely mind.
with dreams of times gone by.
______________
From the editor--It is my pleasure to announce that Robert Hewett Sr. is April’s Poet of the Month. An award winning writer and book reviewer, his talent is evident. He has actively promoted Whispers, bringing new writers to our community. Robert collaborates with others in seamless poems that have been featured at Whispers. He has been encouraging to me and others, offering suggestions to make our online journal better. Robert deserves this honor!
______________
Thoughts on “‘Neath the Willow Tree”--I asked Robert to submit a poem, and I was immediately drawn to the relaxing style. The imagery blossoms, allowing the reader to experience what he is conveying. The emotion and longing to take away another’s pain is heartfelt and honest. This poem was awarded 2nd place in a North Carolina statewide contest--others’ have discovered it’s merit.
______________
Congratulations and thank you Robert! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
By Robert Hewett Sr.
I saw you sitting there, ‘neath the willow tree.
The still waters of the pond, like a mirror
in the sun, reflecting back in time
to happier days in your mind.
A book of poems was in your hands,
but your mind was in distant lands,
searching for words to ease your pain.
An image of a happy moment long ago
brings a smile and a twinkle in your eye.
Looking into the mirror in the pond
reflecting back in time to a younger day,
when love bloomed with flowers in the sun,
brought to life by the mirror in the pond.
If I could write words like the ones in your book
I would fill your heart with love and joy.
Songs of love never lost, new each day, and
there for you even at that distant sunset.
Reflections in the mirror in the pond
forming images of happier days and times.
If my words could make you turn each page,
with thoughts of love and contented ways,
I would be blessed and you know the rest.
Read, fair lady, and let your mind float.
In those pages never lost in time
find the words that fill your lonely mind.
with dreams of times gone by.
______________
From the editor--It is my pleasure to announce that Robert Hewett Sr. is April’s Poet of the Month. An award winning writer and book reviewer, his talent is evident. He has actively promoted Whispers, bringing new writers to our community. Robert collaborates with others in seamless poems that have been featured at Whispers. He has been encouraging to me and others, offering suggestions to make our online journal better. Robert deserves this honor!
______________
Thoughts on “‘Neath the Willow Tree”--I asked Robert to submit a poem, and I was immediately drawn to the relaxing style. The imagery blossoms, allowing the reader to experience what he is conveying. The emotion and longing to take away another’s pain is heartfelt and honest. This poem was awarded 2nd place in a North Carolina statewide contest--others’ have discovered it’s merit.
______________
Congratulations and thank you Robert! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
First Thing--By Brian Strand--England
First Thing (demi-sonnet)
No noise, silence,
the beating of my heart,
alone, with my thoughts;
Without, I see the breeze,
soundless, active, alive,
slowly I awake, arise
to another day
a demi-sonnet - a free form half sonnet
Brian Strand has created short poetic forms including 'broken monoku' (a haiku variation) and 'footle' (a trochaic monometer with witty, topical, etc themes) and Captioned Cartoon, an Ekphrasis combining his art and poetic interests. He has published a seven kindle ebook series Poetic forms; A Strand of Verse; My Choice Strand Verse; A Strand Guide; Christianity Explained; A Strand critique; and Captioned Cartoon Ekphrasis. Brian has written nearly 200 Amazon reviews and is a Wiki poetry and art editor.
No noise, silence,
the beating of my heart,
alone, with my thoughts;
Without, I see the breeze,
soundless, active, alive,
slowly I awake, arise
to another day
a demi-sonnet - a free form half sonnet
Brian Strand has created short poetic forms including 'broken monoku' (a haiku variation) and 'footle' (a trochaic monometer with witty, topical, etc themes) and Captioned Cartoon, an Ekphrasis combining his art and poetic interests. He has published a seven kindle ebook series Poetic forms; A Strand of Verse; My Choice Strand Verse; A Strand Guide; Christianity Explained; A Strand critique; and Captioned Cartoon Ekphrasis. Brian has written nearly 200 Amazon reviews and is a Wiki poetry and art editor.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Nature’s Songs--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States
Nature’s Songs
I find my greatest inspiration
In the solitude of nature,
Where melodies of whippoorwills’ shrills
Disturb night’s silence,
Here by this old mountain road
I listen and nod to each
Distant melody; it is never lonely
When my soul is absorbed with peace
That comes from nature’s songs.
John W. (Bill) Williams is a retired language arts and children’s literature educator. He lives in Martin, GA, where he stays busy with his art and poetry. He has been published in a variety of venues.
I find my greatest inspiration
In the solitude of nature,
Where melodies of whippoorwills’ shrills
Disturb night’s silence,
Here by this old mountain road
I listen and nod to each
Distant melody; it is never lonely
When my soul is absorbed with peace
That comes from nature’s songs.
John W. (Bill) Williams is a retired language arts and children’s literature educator. He lives in Martin, GA, where he stays busy with his art and poetry. He has been published in a variety of venues.
Winter Recall--By Gerald A. McBreen--United States
Winter Recall
Spring runoff cascades its way into consciousness.
Stems push buds skyward promising a summer of kaleidoscopic splendor.
Where did winter go?
Cold breath against the window.
Shivering bodies wiggling out of polyester shells.
Happenings recalled from a mind yawning out of hibernation.
Gerald A. McBreen found poetry after he retired from the US Postal Service. He discovered he had a flair for romance. He has been publishing for ten years with True Romance and their related magazines. He is the coordinator for Striped Water Poets. They sponsor an “open mic” every first Wednesday of the month. They also post 'Poems on Posters' around the area. In 2009 Pacific, Washington celebrated its 100th anniversary, and he was appointed Poet Laureate. (2009 - 2013)
Spring runoff cascades its way into consciousness.
Stems push buds skyward promising a summer of kaleidoscopic splendor.
Where did winter go?
Cold breath against the window.
Shivering bodies wiggling out of polyester shells.
Happenings recalled from a mind yawning out of hibernation.
Gerald A. McBreen found poetry after he retired from the US Postal Service. He discovered he had a flair for romance. He has been publishing for ten years with True Romance and their related magazines. He is the coordinator for Striped Water Poets. They sponsor an “open mic” every first Wednesday of the month. They also post 'Poems on Posters' around the area. In 2009 Pacific, Washington celebrated its 100th anniversary, and he was appointed Poet Laureate. (2009 - 2013)
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Quilted Memories--By Robert P. Hansen--United States
Quilted Memories
The pattern built from tortured strands of thread
has burrowed in the warm material;
It stretched its lengthy folds across the bed,
A haven from the bitterness and cold;
Its thick and ruddy contours rise and fall
To comfort each and every breath I take;
The earthy tones resound its friendly call,
The hue of which I never will forsake;
Its fraying edge is not from weakened seam;
Its age has brought more beauty to behold;
I draw it near to me, and, as I dream,
I feel its soft caresses on my soul.
My mother sewed each stitch with loving care:
I know she did; I always feel it there.
Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. His novel The Snodgrass Incident (excerpts of which have appeared in The Fifth Dimension and The Martian Wave), along with collections of his poetry and stories, is currently available on Kindle at amazon.com/author/rphansen.
The pattern built from tortured strands of thread
has burrowed in the warm material;
It stretched its lengthy folds across the bed,
A haven from the bitterness and cold;
Its thick and ruddy contours rise and fall
To comfort each and every breath I take;
The earthy tones resound its friendly call,
The hue of which I never will forsake;
Its fraying edge is not from weakened seam;
Its age has brought more beauty to behold;
I draw it near to me, and, as I dream,
I feel its soft caresses on my soul.
My mother sewed each stitch with loving care:
I know she did; I always feel it there.
Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. His novel The Snodgrass Incident (excerpts of which have appeared in The Fifth Dimension and The Martian Wave), along with collections of his poetry and stories, is currently available on Kindle at amazon.com/author/rphansen.
Tanka--By Asni Amin--Singapore
birdsong
for a moment
I forget …
drifting downstream
songs I'll never sing again
(LYNX XXVIII)
autumn twilight
the choices I didn't make
the path I have taken ...
is it too late
to dream another dream?
(NeverEnding Story, Feb 18, 2013)
things you said
wish I could string them together
like a string of pearls …
till then dance me
to the edge of twilight
(LYNX XXVIII)
Asni Amin is from sunny Singapore. She works as a librarian full time and writes haiku for the love of it, after getting hooked on it in early 2012. Some of her haiku/tanka/haiga have been published in Simply Haiku, Under the Basho, Daily Haiga, Lynx, Moonbathing Journal, Manichi Japan, etc. Asni won first place in the Second Edition Haiku Contest organised by the Romanian Kukai Group, Sharpening The Green Pencil in April 2013. She has a haiku blog, A Walk In Haiku, http://awalkinhaiku.wordpress.com
for a moment
I forget …
drifting downstream
songs I'll never sing again
(LYNX XXVIII)
autumn twilight
the choices I didn't make
the path I have taken ...
is it too late
to dream another dream?
(NeverEnding Story, Feb 18, 2013)
things you said
wish I could string them together
like a string of pearls …
till then dance me
to the edge of twilight
(LYNX XXVIII)
Asni Amin is from sunny Singapore. She works as a librarian full time and writes haiku for the love of it, after getting hooked on it in early 2012. Some of her haiku/tanka/haiga have been published in Simply Haiku, Under the Basho, Daily Haiga, Lynx, Moonbathing Journal, Manichi Japan, etc. Asni won first place in the Second Edition Haiku Contest organised by the Romanian Kukai Group, Sharpening The Green Pencil in April 2013. She has a haiku blog, A Walk In Haiku, http://awalkinhaiku.wordpress.com
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Winging (Duo-rhyme)--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States
Winging (Duo-rhyme)
I feel so blessed to view the sky,
To watch God’s majestic birds fly;
To hear them wake, begin to sing,
Then leave their tree limbs on the wing.
As winter season turns to spring
Mating birds hunt for twigs and string
To build a nest for mothering.
Soon what joy little eggs will bring
When these new fledglings learn to fly
And leave their wing prints in the sky.
*Dedicated to the late Mary L. Ports who created this lovely form.
Connie Marcum Wong has been the Web Mistress of a private poetry forum Poetry for Thought since October 1999. Her poetry has been in many publications, anthologies, magazines, and e-zines over the years. She published her first poetry chapbook, Island Creations in 2005. In 2007, Heart Blossoms was published. In January 2010, an anthology, A Poetry Bridge to All Nations, was published by Lulu Enterprises, Inc. Connie created the 'Constanza' poetry form in 2007 and Con-Verse form in 2010. She has resided with her husband in Hawaii since 1980.
I feel so blessed to view the sky,
To watch God’s majestic birds fly;
To hear them wake, begin to sing,
Then leave their tree limbs on the wing.
As winter season turns to spring
Mating birds hunt for twigs and string
To build a nest for mothering.
Soon what joy little eggs will bring
When these new fledglings learn to fly
And leave their wing prints in the sky.
*Dedicated to the late Mary L. Ports who created this lovely form.
Connie Marcum Wong has been the Web Mistress of a private poetry forum Poetry for Thought since October 1999. Her poetry has been in many publications, anthologies, magazines, and e-zines over the years. She published her first poetry chapbook, Island Creations in 2005. In 2007, Heart Blossoms was published. In January 2010, an anthology, A Poetry Bridge to All Nations, was published by Lulu Enterprises, Inc. Connie created the 'Constanza' poetry form in 2007 and Con-Verse form in 2010. She has resided with her husband in Hawaii since 1980.
The Easter Story--By Joyce Johnson--United States
The Easter Story
This Easter season let me stay
With my Lord, as He wends His way
To turn away would be high treason.
Let me stay this Easter season.
Let me be she who lifts the cross,
Who comforts Mary in her loss.
Right by his side I long to be.
Who lifts the cross let me be she.
I want to be of lonely few
Who are still there in morning dew.
First the rolled away stone to see.
Of lonely few I want to be.
Let me go forth to spread the news
Our dear Lord chose His life to lose.
He died for me of little worth.
To spread the news, let me go forth.
The Easters story often told
Is fresh as in the days of old.
Let me tell of its pure glory.
Often told, the Easter Story.
Joyce Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce will celebrate her 95th birthday in July of 2013.
This Easter season let me stay
With my Lord, as He wends His way
To turn away would be high treason.
Let me stay this Easter season.
Let me be she who lifts the cross,
Who comforts Mary in her loss.
Right by his side I long to be.
Who lifts the cross let me be she.
I want to be of lonely few
Who are still there in morning dew.
First the rolled away stone to see.
Of lonely few I want to be.
Let me go forth to spread the news
Our dear Lord chose His life to lose.
He died for me of little worth.
To spread the news, let me go forth.
The Easters story often told
Is fresh as in the days of old.
Let me tell of its pure glory.
Often told, the Easter Story.
Joyce Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce will celebrate her 95th birthday in July of 2013.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Haiku/Senryu--By Shloka Shankar--India
still pond...
the growing ripples
within
_______________
night-long rain...
sinking into the beanbag
I read Neruda
_______________
summer blues...
the familiar scent of
dog-eared pages
_______________
spring dusk –
I peel away layers
of darkness
_______________
russet skies…
palm trees reach out for
the fading moon
_______________
Shloka Shankar resides in Bangalore, India. She is notable for her work in anthologies of repute including Traversal of Lines, The Dance of the Peacock, The Unsettled Winter and Family Matters. Shloka has also seen her poems published in numerous other literary journals including Urban Confustions, RaedLeaf Poetry India, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Wordweavers India Asahi Haikuist Network and Creatrix.
the growing ripples
within
_______________
night-long rain...
sinking into the beanbag
I read Neruda
_______________
summer blues...
the familiar scent of
dog-eared pages
_______________
spring dusk –
I peel away layers
of darkness
_______________
russet skies…
palm trees reach out for
the fading moon
_______________
Shloka Shankar resides in Bangalore, India. She is notable for her work in anthologies of repute including Traversal of Lines, The Dance of the Peacock, The Unsettled Winter and Family Matters. Shloka has also seen her poems published in numerous other literary journals including Urban Confustions, RaedLeaf Poetry India, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Wordweavers India Asahi Haikuist Network and Creatrix.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
Safe Harbor
By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.
Your arms enfold me tenderly,
you kiss away my tears;
in your warmth, worries fly,
releasing all my fears.
Each breath upon my tear-stained cheek,
a balm to heal my wound;
you gently lead my heart ashore
no longer left marooned.
Allow my love to anchor you
no more a drifting waif;
sweet vision, pay the storm no mind,
rest easy, you are safe;
True love so rare and seldom found
a lifetime to embrace,
united we withstand each squall,
together face to face.
By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.
Your arms enfold me tenderly,
you kiss away my tears;
in your warmth, worries fly,
releasing all my fears.
Each breath upon my tear-stained cheek,
a balm to heal my wound;
you gently lead my heart ashore
no longer left marooned.
Allow my love to anchor you
no more a drifting waif;
sweet vision, pay the storm no mind,
rest easy, you are safe;
True love so rare and seldom found
a lifetime to embrace,
united we withstand each squall,
together face to face.
Post-Thyroid Surgery Thoughts--By Suzanne Clement--United States
Post-Thyroid Surgery Thoughts
It’s a miracle!
how could I be miserable
with a swelled-up neck
and find out that I would need
to have thyroid surgery
and then discover
after the operation
the removed area
ended up not being the
beginning of cancer.
Thank you, God!
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
It’s a miracle!
how could I be miserable
with a swelled-up neck
and find out that I would need
to have thyroid surgery
and then discover
after the operation
the removed area
ended up not being the
beginning of cancer.
Thank you, God!
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Haiku--By Rita Odeh--Israel
cloudy morning-
a kite flies higher
than its string
_______________
that full moon-
a coin falls into
the beggar's palm
_______________
distant gunfire-
ivy leaves creep along
the old ruins
_______________
wailing wall-
the priest leans against
his own shadow
_______________
moonless sky-
military raincoats hung
on a bamboo fence
_______________
Rita Odeh is the author of seven books, including Buds of Dream which will be released May 2014 and will be available from Amazon. Her haiku and haiga have been honored with many awards. To read more of her poems, please go to Catching the Moment, http://rita-odeh.blogspot.com
a kite flies higher
than its string
_______________
that full moon-
a coin falls into
the beggar's palm
_______________
distant gunfire-
ivy leaves creep along
the old ruins
_______________
wailing wall-
the priest leans against
his own shadow
_______________
moonless sky-
military raincoats hung
on a bamboo fence
_______________
Rita Odeh is the author of seven books, including Buds of Dream which will be released May 2014 and will be available from Amazon. Her haiku and haiga have been honored with many awards. To read more of her poems, please go to Catching the Moment, http://rita-odeh.blogspot.com
Dichtung--By Joe Maverick--England
Dichtung
meine inspirationen
teilwiese nür
bekkome ich.
doch jeder stück
grösser zum glück.
Translation
my inspiration
comes to me
in pieces yet
every one such,
enriches so much
Joe Maverick is a freelance author, from a widely educated background. He has been writing for 27 years. He is interested in feedback from the public; readers are the reason for his writing. Some of his poems are short and succinct, others tell a story. He would like to see the literary flame burn bright in any day and age, believing that it can feed the spirit and bring enlightenment.
meine inspirationen
teilwiese nür
bekkome ich.
doch jeder stück
grösser zum glück.
Translation
my inspiration
comes to me
in pieces yet
every one such,
enriches so much
Joe Maverick is a freelance author, from a widely educated background. He has been writing for 27 years. He is interested in feedback from the public; readers are the reason for his writing. Some of his poems are short and succinct, others tell a story. He would like to see the literary flame burn bright in any day and age, believing that it can feed the spirit and bring enlightenment.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
If Walls Could Talk--By Gerald Heyder--United States
If Walls Could Talk
The spooks are out
come Halloween night
with giggled echoes
from children’s delight,
take this lesson
from unsettled life--
objects reveal more
than chattering wife!
If walls could talk
what tales they’d tell
as pictures are eyes
in rooms they dwell.
Ponder your deeds
both lady and sir,
could a haunting house
someday occur?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin
The spooks are out
come Halloween night
with giggled echoes
from children’s delight,
take this lesson
from unsettled life--
objects reveal more
than chattering wife!
If walls could talk
what tales they’d tell
as pictures are eyes
in rooms they dwell.
Ponder your deeds
both lady and sir,
could a haunting house
someday occur?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Drawings Made of Chalk--By Pam Murray--Canada
Drawings Made of Chalk
I dream across the years
Of footprints in the sand,
Of splashing in the sea
And you holding my hand.
I see those long car rides
When you and I would talk.
Today those passing years
Are drawings made of chalk
And time becomes a hand
That brushes them away.
At night when I’m alone
I reach for yesterday,
For hugging as we passed.
You were my solid ground.
Your voice filled me with song.
I strive to catch that sound.
Born in Calgary, Alberta, Pam Murray has been writing poetry since the mid-1960’s. She was married for over 41 years and has two daughters, a son-in-law, and a grandson. Pam has been published in a variety of venues. Her proudest writing accomplishment was a poem she wrote for a United Way fundraiser, which was later framed with a French translation and hung on the wall of the legislature in Ottawa, Canada. To her, poetry is a transposition of a vision she sees in her mind. Writing and crocheting are her passions.
I dream across the years
Of footprints in the sand,
Of splashing in the sea
And you holding my hand.
I see those long car rides
When you and I would talk.
Today those passing years
Are drawings made of chalk
And time becomes a hand
That brushes them away.
At night when I’m alone
I reach for yesterday,
For hugging as we passed.
You were my solid ground.
Your voice filled me with song.
I strive to catch that sound.
Born in Calgary, Alberta, Pam Murray has been writing poetry since the mid-1960’s. She was married for over 41 years and has two daughters, a son-in-law, and a grandson. Pam has been published in a variety of venues. Her proudest writing accomplishment was a poem she wrote for a United Way fundraiser, which was later framed with a French translation and hung on the wall of the legislature in Ottawa, Canada. To her, poetry is a transposition of a vision she sees in her mind. Writing and crocheting are her passions.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds--United States
Oh, But For The Butterfly!
By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds
Oh, how I long to ever see thy wings in glorious flutter!
I’m speechless and I stand in awe; thee melts my heart like butter!
To softly grace upon my hand a breath of fresh, soft breeze
I will not move, I will not breathe, I will not even sneeze!
For fear that I might scare you off; you vanish to the sky
Come flutter of thy blessed wings, O, lovely butterfly!
I watch you through my window pane
Spectacular in elegance and grace to match
It's hard to not get emotional over such beauty
Hues of violet, yellow, blue, orange and other!
Outstanding creature of admirable detail
Oh, how I wish I could soar with you!
By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds
Oh, how I long to ever see thy wings in glorious flutter!
I’m speechless and I stand in awe; thee melts my heart like butter!
To softly grace upon my hand a breath of fresh, soft breeze
I will not move, I will not breathe, I will not even sneeze!
For fear that I might scare you off; you vanish to the sky
Come flutter of thy blessed wings, O, lovely butterfly!
I watch you through my window pane
Spectacular in elegance and grace to match
It's hard to not get emotional over such beauty
Hues of violet, yellow, blue, orange and other!
Outstanding creature of admirable detail
Oh, how I wish I could soar with you!
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Life’s Richest Treasure--By Erich J. Goller--United States
Life’s Richest Treasure
Within a love that knows no bounds or heights
It is life’s richest treasure
With beauty and pleasure
With two hearts mending
leading to a happy place
forever with joy
longing for your hand to hold
it is love that fulfills life
where red roses climb
with golden rays of sunlight
bright blue sky above
we shall always share
memories as twilight falls
gleaming in the sky
Erich J. Goller was born in Vienna, Austria. A close world war two survivor, in 1955, he immigrated to California, where he made his living as a mechanic and as an actor. He been married for 56 years, has one daughter and one son. He is a published author of seven books. He now resides In Nashville, Tennessee, still loves to write, also enjoys doing art work. His web site, www.poetvienna.com
Within a love that knows no bounds or heights
It is life’s richest treasure
With beauty and pleasure
With two hearts mending
leading to a happy place
forever with joy
longing for your hand to hold
it is love that fulfills life
where red roses climb
with golden rays of sunlight
bright blue sky above
we shall always share
memories as twilight falls
gleaming in the sky
Erich J. Goller was born in Vienna, Austria. A close world war two survivor, in 1955, he immigrated to California, where he made his living as a mechanic and as an actor. He been married for 56 years, has one daughter and one son. He is a published author of seven books. He now resides In Nashville, Tennessee, still loves to write, also enjoys doing art work. His web site, www.poetvienna.com
‘noir’ broken monokus--By Ralph Stott--England
a contortionist…….
…….the face fits
________________
stop-and-search…….
…….for lost youth
________________
memory-lane…….
…….a flyover
________________
the wind of change.......
.......a flag at half-mast
________________
a man sleeps alone.......
.......heads full of crowds
________________
Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters. He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
…….the face fits
________________
stop-and-search…….
…….for lost youth
________________
memory-lane…….
…….a flyover
________________
the wind of change.......
.......a flag at half-mast
________________
a man sleeps alone.......
.......heads full of crowds
________________
Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters. He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
Monday, April 7, 2014
jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States
for somewhere
we see dreams lost
in cloud shapes
while snow falls
in april
and we taste the pain
that comes
from loving deeply
but smile
for somewhere
there's a pure unanxious place
where we can go
lifting us gently
across edges
Thoughts from Nila Webster--"This poem was one of my mother's very favorites. True to the poem, her hometown of Rochester, NY, had almost 10 inches of snow recently. I taste the pain of loving her deeply and missing her, yet I am comforted that she is now in a pure, unanxious place. I think of her always as happy."
we see dreams lost
in cloud shapes
while snow falls
in april
and we taste the pain
that comes
from loving deeply
but smile
for somewhere
there's a pure unanxious place
where we can go
lifting us gently
across edges
Thoughts from Nila Webster--"This poem was one of my mother's very favorites. True to the poem, her hometown of Rochester, NY, had almost 10 inches of snow recently. I taste the pain of loving her deeply and missing her, yet I am comforted that she is now in a pure, unanxious place. I think of her always as happy."
What you are for me--By Gert W. Knop--Germany
What you are for me
You are the sunlight,
to lighten my face.
You are my beacon
shining through haze.
You are the light breeze
of clear summer's air,
with the scent of flowers
caressing my hair,
You are the song
of birds in spring.
You are the music
which makes me
swing.
You are the sound,
reaching my heart.
You are my Love,
nothing can tear us apart
Gert W. Knop, born in 1943, studies art and tropical agriculture in Germany and Scotland (University of Edinburgh). He has lived in many different countries and writes mainly in German, English and Spanish. He currently resides in Zittau (Saxony), Germany.
You are the sunlight,
to lighten my face.
You are my beacon
shining through haze.
You are the light breeze
of clear summer's air,
with the scent of flowers
caressing my hair,
You are the song
of birds in spring.
You are the music
which makes me
swing.
You are the sound,
reaching my heart.
You are my Love,
nothing can tear us apart
Gert W. Knop, born in 1943, studies art and tropical agriculture in Germany and Scotland (University of Edinburgh). He has lived in many different countries and writes mainly in German, English and Spanish. He currently resides in Zittau (Saxony), Germany.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Hello Dad--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
Hello Dad
Hello Dad, it’s been awhile since I talked to you.
Fifty Three years to be exact, but that you knew.
I am the only one of your children left here on earth.
Just want to tell you things I recall from our hearth.
Those wonderful adventure stories that you told
Chapter by chapter, night after night, treasures to hold.
I want you to know that I am doing my best
To keep alive your Miz Molly and all the rest.
You were a good father to us while here on Earth,
Respected by friends and neighbors, priceless your worth.
Loved by four boys you raised without reservation.
Your integrity was worthy of celebration.
My ingrained soul values about life and living
Were defined by your consistent life of giving.
You read the Bible, taught me the joy of a breeze.
The little church nestled among the Cottonwood trees.
Where I was saved and learned to love the Lord.
I was happy, times were tough, but never too hard.
Your stories, your faith, your character, your helping hand,
I cherish you father rest in peace in God’s land.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
Hello Dad, it’s been awhile since I talked to you.
Fifty Three years to be exact, but that you knew.
I am the only one of your children left here on earth.
Just want to tell you things I recall from our hearth.
Those wonderful adventure stories that you told
Chapter by chapter, night after night, treasures to hold.
I want you to know that I am doing my best
To keep alive your Miz Molly and all the rest.
You were a good father to us while here on Earth,
Respected by friends and neighbors, priceless your worth.
Loved by four boys you raised without reservation.
Your integrity was worthy of celebration.
My ingrained soul values about life and living
Were defined by your consistent life of giving.
You read the Bible, taught me the joy of a breeze.
The little church nestled among the Cottonwood trees.
Where I was saved and learned to love the Lord.
I was happy, times were tough, but never too hard.
Your stories, your faith, your character, your helping hand,
I cherish you father rest in peace in God’s land.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
Luna--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada
Luna
The clouds play hide and seek as they glide
Ever so playful among the starry heavens
Stars twinkle shining like diamonds
As the full moon smiles brightly.
Shadows softly engulf the forest below
A hush descends as twilight fades
Luna's blue hue lights the world below
Twilight disappears hiding our view.
Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on Poetry.com and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.
The clouds play hide and seek as they glide
Ever so playful among the starry heavens
Stars twinkle shining like diamonds
As the full moon smiles brightly.
Shadows softly engulf the forest below
A hush descends as twilight fades
Luna's blue hue lights the world below
Twilight disappears hiding our view.
Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on Poetry.com and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Am I the Only One?--By Zona Rowand Lawrence--United States
Am I the Only One?
I am but a grain of sand in the universe
standing alone in the setting sun.
As the waves come in to shore and reverse
I wonder – am I the only one?
Those who have gone before –
were they grains of sands like me?
Is it just me who longs for more
than standing beside the sea?
Sometimes I feel so very tall
capable and serene.
Then again, less than small
dreaming of faraway fields of green –
where I can go play some ball
with friends and foe alike --
laugh and giggle through the day,
dance and ride my bike.
There must be another place to stand –
perhaps in poetry and verse –
to be more than a grain of sand --
in our beautiful universe.
After many years as a stage performer, Zona found she enjoyed writing. She studies at Paradise Valley Community College. Her work has appeared in several anthologies at the school and elsewhere. In 2004, she won $20,000.00 for her poem, “Indiscriminate Sestina.” She and her husband, Jack, are creating a Diet by Poetry Journal to help whittle away those pounds with a little rhyming fun. Last year in the Paradise Review her poem, “If He Had Hit Me”, won third place and her one act play, “A Shaggy Dog Story”, won second place.
I am but a grain of sand in the universe
standing alone in the setting sun.
As the waves come in to shore and reverse
I wonder – am I the only one?
Those who have gone before –
were they grains of sands like me?
Is it just me who longs for more
than standing beside the sea?
Sometimes I feel so very tall
capable and serene.
Then again, less than small
dreaming of faraway fields of green –
where I can go play some ball
with friends and foe alike --
laugh and giggle through the day,
dance and ride my bike.
There must be another place to stand –
perhaps in poetry and verse –
to be more than a grain of sand --
in our beautiful universe.
After many years as a stage performer, Zona found she enjoyed writing. She studies at Paradise Valley Community College. Her work has appeared in several anthologies at the school and elsewhere. In 2004, she won $20,000.00 for her poem, “Indiscriminate Sestina.” She and her husband, Jack, are creating a Diet by Poetry Journal to help whittle away those pounds with a little rhyming fun. Last year in the Paradise Review her poem, “If He Had Hit Me”, won third place and her one act play, “A Shaggy Dog Story”, won second place.
Au re-voir Dawn--By Beth Winchcombe--England
Au re-voir Dawn
How does one mend a broken heart
when it's shattered in fragments
beyond repair?
The harder you love,
the harder the pain
when one dies!
How does one cope with a broken heart?
Everyone is different.
Does time ever heal?
Maybe, those un-shed tears, seal
the cracks one day.
Will this pain and sorrow
ease tomorrow?
Maybe it will after MANY tomorrows!
Grieving is a slow process,
for those living.
The end of life, for the departed is their relief.
RIP, my loved one.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
How does one mend a broken heart
when it's shattered in fragments
beyond repair?
The harder you love,
the harder the pain
when one dies!
How does one cope with a broken heart?
Everyone is different.
Does time ever heal?
Maybe, those un-shed tears, seal
the cracks one day.
Will this pain and sorrow
ease tomorrow?
Maybe it will after MANY tomorrows!
Grieving is a slow process,
for those living.
The end of life, for the departed is their relief.
RIP, my loved one.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Jack Horne, England; Sandra Stefanowich, Canada and Carolyn Devonshire, United States
Ode to the Unwalkables
By Jack Horne, Sandra Stefanowich and Carolyn Devonshire
Jack's Carpet Slippers:
My slippers were backless and red
'So comfy to walk in,' I said
But I tripped and I slipped
Like a pancake I flipped
And bounced down the stairs on my head
Sandra's High Heels:
Walking in high heels I do dread
Pathetic sight to all ahead
Leaving me in dire straits
A foal on roller skates
On my butt my face cherry red
Carolyn's Cowboy Boots:
Leather toes so pointy and slick
For me cowboy boots did the trick
Until I forced them on
Scrunch! Where had my toes gone?
Had to pry them off with a stick
By Jack Horne, Sandra Stefanowich and Carolyn Devonshire
Jack's Carpet Slippers:
My slippers were backless and red
'So comfy to walk in,' I said
But I tripped and I slipped
Like a pancake I flipped
And bounced down the stairs on my head
Sandra's High Heels:
Walking in high heels I do dread
Pathetic sight to all ahead
Leaving me in dire straits
A foal on roller skates
On my butt my face cherry red
Carolyn's Cowboy Boots:
Leather toes so pointy and slick
For me cowboy boots did the trick
Until I forced them on
Scrunch! Where had my toes gone?
Had to pry them off with a stick
Christ Love--By Shirley Smothers--United States
Christ Love
Heart beats young,
heart beats old,
with a love of Christ
your heart beats bold.
Be ye rich,
be ye poor,
with a love of Christ
you'll have so much more.
The rain falls
on just and unjust.
But remember Christ
rain settles the dust.
Don't float listlessly
on a sea of confusion,
for a life without Christ
is a life of delusion.
Don't be the sand
upon the shore,
open your heart
Christ will open the door.
Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.
Heart beats young,
heart beats old,
with a love of Christ
your heart beats bold.
Be ye rich,
be ye poor,
with a love of Christ
you'll have so much more.
The rain falls
on just and unjust.
But remember Christ
rain settles the dust.
Don't float listlessly
on a sea of confusion,
for a life without Christ
is a life of delusion.
Don't be the sand
upon the shore,
open your heart
Christ will open the door.
Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.
One Line Haiku--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada
snowflakes on my left on my right her crimson lips
the sound of spring rain on top of our moaning
her face in our cracked bedroom window blue moon
day after the blizzard her razor-sharp words
cold snap breaking down thoughts of my ex
__________
Chen-ou Liu is the author of four books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize Winner of the 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest). His tanka and haiku have been honored with many awards. To read more of his poems, please go to Poetry in the Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/
the sound of spring rain on top of our moaning
her face in our cracked bedroom window blue moon
day after the blizzard her razor-sharp words
cold snap breaking down thoughts of my ex
__________
Chen-ou Liu is the author of four books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize Winner of the 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest). His tanka and haiku have been honored with many awards. To read more of his poems, please go to Poetry in the Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Things Not Known--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand
Things Not Known
Things known rule the day
As I plod through the labyrinth
To enable me to know what to do
Then it strikes its familiar pose
And I know everything I don't know
Is what I must know.
To complete the journey to end-time
A magic path to transformation
It's the rules that govern the stretched
Known highway
I'll find it in a sudden critique
Launched in inexplicable downfalls
Or with a child stumbling through
Unknown words
Nothing will be the same again
I will know that I know
Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia. She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published.
Things known rule the day
As I plod through the labyrinth
To enable me to know what to do
Then it strikes its familiar pose
And I know everything I don't know
Is what I must know.
To complete the journey to end-time
A magic path to transformation
It's the rules that govern the stretched
Known highway
I'll find it in a sudden critique
Launched in inexplicable downfalls
Or with a child stumbling through
Unknown words
Nothing will be the same again
I will know that I know
Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia. She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published.
Addressing the Loss--By Maralee Gerke--United States
Addressing the Loss
I haven’t crossed her name
out of my address book
my heart stops me.
She is recently gone.
Her birthday this month
leaves me orphaned.
She is ash now.
Buried with my dad on a hill.
Severed connections flap
like tatters in October wind.
Someday maybe, I’ll
be able to erase her
from my book
but never from my heart.
Maralee Gerke lives and writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown Café. She recently recorded 4 poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at oregonpoeticvoices.org One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts.
I haven’t crossed her name
out of my address book
my heart stops me.
She is recently gone.
Her birthday this month
leaves me orphaned.
She is ash now.
Buried with my dad on a hill.
Severed connections flap
like tatters in October wind.
Someday maybe, I’ll
be able to erase her
from my book
but never from my heart.
Maralee Gerke lives and writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown Café. She recently recorded 4 poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at oregonpoeticvoices.org One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
In An Old Cathedral--By Terry O’Leary--France
In An Old Cathedral
She knelt upon a plank of oaken,
sable cloak, her mourning guise,
and sensed the breath of distant sighs,
pale shades of bane behind blue eyes…
While clasping close a cross-like token
(holding hope for those in need)
she prayed her Lord "please intercede,
my woe be washed, my soul be freed"…
Forgotten words he once had spoken
(echoed dim beneath the dome)
swept sweetness of the honeycomb
o'er distant realms they used to roam…
At midnight's knell, in dreams awoken,
memories of love unchained…
Though loneliness of grief remained,
she still held hope… hope hadn't waned…
And when the dawn had early broken,
by the font, in peace she lay…
As sudden as a sunrise ray
the light of life had slipped away…
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
She knelt upon a plank of oaken,
sable cloak, her mourning guise,
and sensed the breath of distant sighs,
pale shades of bane behind blue eyes…
While clasping close a cross-like token
(holding hope for those in need)
she prayed her Lord "please intercede,
my woe be washed, my soul be freed"…
Forgotten words he once had spoken
(echoed dim beneath the dome)
swept sweetness of the honeycomb
o'er distant realms they used to roam…
At midnight's knell, in dreams awoken,
memories of love unchained…
Though loneliness of grief remained,
she still held hope… hope hadn't waned…
And when the dawn had early broken,
by the font, in peace she lay…
As sudden as a sunrise ray
the light of life had slipped away…
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
We, Forest--By Russell Sivey--United States
We, Forest
We, forest, I call all of us to come forth
In simpler times I perceived being much more
We were the mighty expanse of common worth
Greater than the ocean waves that come up shore
We, forest call to union the great beckon
On a united front we combine as one
And onlookers would see our stature with awe
Making us greater than the crows deathly caw
Russell Sivey lives in the United States and has been writing poetry for 26 years (after his major car accident that left his arm paralyzed). He has been improving year after year. Russell enjoys reading poetry as well as writing it He finds himself listening to almost any type of music. Russell has been with Poetry Soup for almost 3 years and enjoys the poetry that he reads there from his friends. He is currently attending school for a Creative Writing degree with a specialization in Poetry. Yes, that means he will have a poetry degree. He looks forward to reading everyone's poems here on this site. His muse is the moon.
We, forest, I call all of us to come forth
In simpler times I perceived being much more
We were the mighty expanse of common worth
Greater than the ocean waves that come up shore
We, forest call to union the great beckon
On a united front we combine as one
And onlookers would see our stature with awe
Making us greater than the crows deathly caw
Russell Sivey lives in the United States and has been writing poetry for 26 years (after his major car accident that left his arm paralyzed). He has been improving year after year. Russell enjoys reading poetry as well as writing it He finds himself listening to almost any type of music. Russell has been with Poetry Soup for almost 3 years and enjoys the poetry that he reads there from his friends. He is currently attending school for a Creative Writing degree with a specialization in Poetry. Yes, that means he will have a poetry degree. He looks forward to reading everyone's poems here on this site. His muse is the moon.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
That’s Life--By Eleanor Michael--United States
That’s Life
When everything
is said and done,
I’d like to think
I made a difference.
Then I remember all
the bad advice I’ve given,
well meant but not wise,
that should have worked.
The decisions I made
with unforeseen consequences
for those I wanted to help.
What can one do now?
In fairness, I must have
done some things right.
I must have helped someone.
I still might.
Either way, I know
I’ve left my footprint
on the world--a big one--
with my 10-wide shoe.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
When everything
is said and done,
I’d like to think
I made a difference.
Then I remember all
the bad advice I’ve given,
well meant but not wise,
that should have worked.
The decisions I made
with unforeseen consequences
for those I wanted to help.
What can one do now?
In fairness, I must have
done some things right.
I must have helped someone.
I still might.
Either way, I know
I’ve left my footprint
on the world--a big one--
with my 10-wide shoe.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
Empty Hands--By Linda Hurdwell--England
Empty Hands
And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun.
The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of time
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime.
The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
But yearns to know much more.
Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun.
The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of time
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime.
The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
But yearns to know much more.
Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
APRIL ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN MARCH
Tim Ryerson--United States
Joe Flach--United States
Elaine George--Canada
Elizabeth Howard--United States
Mary Kent--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, Philippines, 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
We have a world wide audience. If you are currently reading Whispers, please consider submitting a poem for consideration. You may contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net for guidelines. Thank you.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
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/
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/
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.
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
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.
Tim Ryerson--United States
Joe Flach--United States
Elaine George--Canada
Elizabeth Howard--United States
Mary Kent--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, Philippines, 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
We have a world wide audience. If you are currently reading Whispers, please consider submitting a poem for consideration. You may contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net for guidelines. Thank you.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
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/
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/
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.
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
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.