Great Lone Tree, So Beautiful
Great lone tree standing in the middle of Harper's lot
weathering all attacks from so many enemies it has got
Struck eleven times by lightning in as many years
last one burned so hot that sap burst forth like tears!
First plague was ten thousand locusts eating it's fruits
next came grub worms devouring it's sweet tender roots
After that first fire came burning high above it's trunk
then came the woodpeckers pecking out chunk by chunk!
Next the teenage boys driving in nails for a playhouse
adding to the big holes bored so deeply by a wood mouse
Second fire burned it's trunk until hard rain put it out
followed by six years of county's hottest, longest drought
Great lone tree had weathered so many terrible attacks
insects gnawing ever deeper it's long and deep cracks
So many years it giving it's fruit and comforting shade
it's life beaten but that majestic beauty never did fade
Great lone tree stood reaching ever upward to Mother Sky
enduring all while so stubbornly refusing to ever die!
Robert Lindley is poet from the Southern USA. He has been writing poetry since 1969. Robert writes with the intent to offer others words to enjoy and with high hopes he may inspire and brighten lives in some way.
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
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Sunshine and Smiles--By Linda Hurdwell--England
Sunshine and Smiles
Sunshine and smiles
That went on for miles
Our children at play
Each busy day.
Seasons slip by
Before we could sigh
As each family strive
To help offspring thrive.
Then children full grown
Have their own home
So time for a rest
Do what we like best.
Summer has flown
Autumn has blown
To a cold Winter day
That’s where we stay.
Sunshine and smiles
Photos in files
Snapshots of fun
Now the day’s done.
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.
Sunshine and smiles
That went on for miles
Our children at play
Each busy day.
Seasons slip by
Before we could sigh
As each family strive
To help offspring thrive.
Then children full grown
Have their own home
So time for a rest
Do what we like best.
Summer has flown
Autumn has blown
To a cold Winter day
That’s where we stay.
Sunshine and smiles
Photos in files
Snapshots of fun
Now the day’s done.
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.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Beauty’s Demise--By Jan Henson--Turkey
Beauty’s Demise
(Terza Rima Sonnet)
A beauty all of her glorious young days,
Is it lost as she gets to her elder years?
She keeps her vanity in various ways.
Hoping to be valued by her unkind peers,
Her makeup she applies with the greatest care,
She keeps at bay the sting of sad, salty tears.
Never allowing her face to be seen bare,
Or her hair to fall out of it’s given place.
When alone in the mirror she will just stare
Past the veil of wrinkles that cover her face
To the girl, of the past, with flashing green eyes
That set men’s hearts fluttering and blood to race.
Now her beauty has reached it’s final demise
Her soul has taken beauty up to the skies.
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.
(Terza Rima Sonnet)
A beauty all of her glorious young days,
Is it lost as she gets to her elder years?
She keeps her vanity in various ways.
Hoping to be valued by her unkind peers,
Her makeup she applies with the greatest care,
She keeps at bay the sting of sad, salty tears.
Never allowing her face to be seen bare,
Or her hair to fall out of it’s given place.
When alone in the mirror she will just stare
Past the veil of wrinkles that cover her face
To the girl, of the past, with flashing green eyes
That set men’s hearts fluttering and blood to race.
Now her beauty has reached it’s final demise
Her soul has taken beauty up to the skies.
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.
Monday, June 23, 2014
A Valued Heart--By Karen O'Leary--United States
A Valued Heart
a place
past the wrinkles…
the beauty in her soul
keeps flashing in her glorious
green eyes
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.
a place
past the wrinkles…
the beauty in her soul
keeps flashing in her glorious
green eyes
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, June 22, 2014
Let Life--By Jim Teeters--United States
Let Life
My inner child cries
tries to believe he is
not cause--nor cure
for all ills
that he is good enough
Sunlight gleams on salt water
inside I am sunless
walk a driftwood log
kick at shiny wet stones
children play--can’t join them
don’t know their names
A father invites his young son
to build a dam across a small stream
says, “See, like this.”
I would like to join them
wish my grandchild were here
Spirit speaks:
be alone--for now
let life come to you
let life do what it will
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.
My inner child cries
tries to believe he is
not cause--nor cure
for all ills
that he is good enough
Sunlight gleams on salt water
inside I am sunless
walk a driftwood log
kick at shiny wet stones
children play--can’t join them
don’t know their names
A father invites his young son
to build a dam across a small stream
says, “See, like this.”
I would like to join them
wish my grandchild were here
Spirit speaks:
be alone--for now
let life come to you
let life do what it will
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 Flame Once Burned--By Rick Parise--United States
A Flame Once Burned
My sizzling flame has faded in the midst of Summer's embrace
and taken my virgin flower of delicately woven lace
In subtle shadows and fading light
silently in bewilderment I crumble without sight
For each year of happiness and silver dream abound
now a resonating memory silent without a sound
As I walk the cobble stone path where our days had found no end
I raise my arms above and pray for this love to mend
If only a God-sent chance should fall my weary way
this love I would cherish endless with each passing day
In subtle shadows and fading light
each memory of you held forever in soft moonlight
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
My sizzling flame has faded in the midst of Summer's embrace
and taken my virgin flower of delicately woven lace
In subtle shadows and fading light
silently in bewilderment I crumble without sight
For each year of happiness and silver dream abound
now a resonating memory silent without a sound
As I walk the cobble stone path where our days had found no end
I raise my arms above and pray for this love to mend
If only a God-sent chance should fall my weary way
this love I would cherish endless with each passing day
In subtle shadows and fading light
each memory of you held forever in soft moonlight
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
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Sweet Dreams--By Gert W. Knop--Germany
Sweet Dreams
Oh, do not mourn,
is all your light weak,
it's only dreams,
which find you in the night
They do not stay
they fly away from you,
are shadows only
and when the day awakes,
only nice dreams,
which will remain
Thoughts are like driftwood in the sea,
they drift away from you,
and only some will stay,
and those remain
are coming quickly back
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.
Oh, do not mourn,
is all your light weak,
it's only dreams,
which find you in the night
They do not stay
they fly away from you,
are shadows only
and when the day awakes,
only nice dreams,
which will remain
Thoughts are like driftwood in the sea,
they drift away from you,
and only some will stay,
and those remain
are coming quickly back
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.
Fireflies’ Prelude--By Stacy Savage--United States
Fireflies’ Prelude
The sun surrenders
To the sky
As the moon awaits
With his winking eye
To begin his routine
In the rosy wake
So the sun may take
Her needed break.
Fireflies come
And bid adieu
In their evening performance,
Right on cue,
Above the meadows
And prairie grass—
Pulsating flashes
As they pass
And dance in the air
With lanterns bright,
And the stars welcome
The magic of night.
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.
The sun surrenders
To the sky
As the moon awaits
With his winking eye
To begin his routine
In the rosy wake
So the sun may take
Her needed break.
Fireflies come
And bid adieu
In their evening performance,
Right on cue,
Above the meadows
And prairie grass—
Pulsating flashes
As they pass
And dance in the air
With lanterns bright,
And the stars welcome
The magic of night.
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.
Friday, June 20, 2014
INS-PIR-ATION--By Joe Maverick--England
INS-PIR-ATION
When folly leads; to wisdom…
By the way of endless dreams
'Pon a backdrop psychedelic where,
There's nothing all it seems’
I have struggled with good reason
made forays to shore-less isles
Lived a lifetime in the instant
Rode the shine of unforced smiles
Finding ever more to disconcert me
Through crowds of motley folk
Senses were overshadowed
Seams burst at senseless jokes
So on without an Inkling,
To a place I can't discern
Where tomorrow or forever
All I know is..' more I'll learn..
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.
When folly leads; to wisdom…
By the way of endless dreams
'Pon a backdrop psychedelic where,
There's nothing all it seems’
I have struggled with good reason
made forays to shore-less isles
Lived a lifetime in the instant
Rode the shine of unforced smiles
Finding ever more to disconcert me
Through crowds of motley folk
Senses were overshadowed
Seams burst at senseless jokes
So on without an Inkling,
To a place I can't discern
Where tomorrow or forever
All I know is..' more I'll learn..
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.
“Happy Father’s Day” My Mountain--By Arthur C. Ford--United States
“Happy Father’s Day”
My Mountain
(For My Father, Fred P. Ford,Sr.,1909-1988)
Standing there!!
Pointed curves all over.
Muscle bounded.
Your stillness is omnipotent,
streams of sweat
roll down your surface.
Caves within you
are your eyes.
Your top is white from longevity
when melting, it's your tears.
You shield us from the angry winds.
Seismic disturbances
make you growl!!!!!
But you are as gentle
as your foundation-my mother.
Yes, you are our protector!
Yes, you are our mountain!
And I love you
For you are my father.
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.
My Mountain
(For My Father, Fred P. Ford,Sr.,1909-1988)
Standing there!!
Pointed curves all over.
Muscle bounded.
Your stillness is omnipotent,
streams of sweat
roll down your surface.
Caves within you
are your eyes.
Your top is white from longevity
when melting, it's your tears.
You shield us from the angry winds.
Seismic disturbances
make you growl!!!!!
But you are as gentle
as your foundation-my mother.
Yes, you are our protector!
Yes, you are our mountain!
And I love you
For you are my father.
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.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Haiku--By Asni Amin--Singapore
seamless sky …
petals fell in the tinkling
of chimes
Simply Haiku, Winter 2013
_______________
fragrant breeze …
the shiver of new leaves
in morning dew
_______________
smell of rain …
a dream unfolds in the chatter
of sparrows
Simply Haiku, Summer 2013
_______________
blue monarch ...
scent of a dream
on your wings
Butterfly Dreams, Feb 2013
_______________
la vie en rose …
through bare branches
the song of spring
_______________
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
petals fell in the tinkling
of chimes
Simply Haiku, Winter 2013
_______________
fragrant breeze …
the shiver of new leaves
in morning dew
_______________
smell of rain …
a dream unfolds in the chatter
of sparrows
Simply Haiku, Summer 2013
_______________
blue monarch ...
scent of a dream
on your wings
Butterfly Dreams, Feb 2013
_______________
la vie en rose …
through bare branches
the song of spring
_______________
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
Another Day--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States
Another Day
Each day God grants the power of life
Is a gift of no comparison.
How wonderful to walk
In the soul lifting beauty
Of His Marvelous creations…
If tomorrow comes, take a moment
To thank our holy Father
For His inspiring gifts, and rejoice
In the blessings of another day.
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.
Each day God grants the power of life
Is a gift of no comparison.
How wonderful to walk
In the soul lifting beauty
Of His Marvelous creations…
If tomorrow comes, take a moment
To thank our holy Father
For His inspiring gifts, and rejoice
In the blessings of another day.
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.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
My Little Brother--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
My Little Brother
(A 9 year old Sister lament)
My little brother is a total mess.
He is never still even at his best.
Into my things and into my hair
He drives me to total despair.
This morning before I could dress,
He hid my clothes among his mess.
He stole my slipper and pulled my hair
My Little Brother is too much to bear.
At recess one day in a game of dare,
A bully pushed me and pulled my hair.
Out of nowhere my brother appeared,
Chased the bully and showed he cared.
Now my heart is pounding and I am glad.
My Little Brother is no reason to be sad.
I can stand his kicking and pinching.
He is handy when I need him I’m thinking.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
(A 9 year old Sister lament)
My little brother is a total mess.
He is never still even at his best.
Into my things and into my hair
He drives me to total despair.
This morning before I could dress,
He hid my clothes among his mess.
He stole my slipper and pulled my hair
My Little Brother is too much to bear.
At recess one day in a game of dare,
A bully pushed me and pulled my hair.
Out of nowhere my brother appeared,
Chased the bully and showed he cared.
Now my heart is pounding and I am glad.
My Little Brother is no reason to be sad.
I can stand his kicking and pinching.
He is handy when I need him I’m thinking.
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"
My Bunny--By Jane Richer--Canada
My Bunny
I have a little bunny and it lives there under my bed,
I tried to cage it, but it prefers to burrow there instead.
For awhile I often wondered if it might be a he or she?
But yesterday my prayers were answered; for last night I found not one but three!
Two more little bunnies just like their mom all balled-up in grey and white,
I had to dim my flashlight so that I would not give them such a fright.
I ran and told my older brother and he started to laugh and snort,
He said that these kind of bunnies were not at all the common sort.
'They do not burrow in the bushes or live in a hole, stump or under a hill,
So turnip greens, apple peels and bits of carrots their stomachs will never fill.'
'So little sister; hush, hush for this sacred secret I must now in you entrust,
Tell no one, for these are magical bunnies and completely made of dust!'
Jane Richer is a poet and writer who lives in Alberta, Canada. She is published online and in print. She loves to poke fun at herself and rather likes to write tongue-in-cheek poetry but she will dabble in all kinds of genres to widen her creative nature. She loves to 'sister'-(write a complimentary poem) and feels that is the greatest form of acknowledgment and respect in expression for another poet's talent.
I have a little bunny and it lives there under my bed,
I tried to cage it, but it prefers to burrow there instead.
For awhile I often wondered if it might be a he or she?
But yesterday my prayers were answered; for last night I found not one but three!
Two more little bunnies just like their mom all balled-up in grey and white,
I had to dim my flashlight so that I would not give them such a fright.
I ran and told my older brother and he started to laugh and snort,
He said that these kind of bunnies were not at all the common sort.
'They do not burrow in the bushes or live in a hole, stump or under a hill,
So turnip greens, apple peels and bits of carrots their stomachs will never fill.'
'So little sister; hush, hush for this sacred secret I must now in you entrust,
Tell no one, for these are magical bunnies and completely made of dust!'
Jane Richer is a poet and writer who lives in Alberta, Canada. She is published online and in print. She loves to poke fun at herself and rather likes to write tongue-in-cheek poetry but she will dabble in all kinds of genres to widen her creative nature. She loves to 'sister'-(write a complimentary poem) and feels that is the greatest form of acknowledgment and respect in expression for another poet's talent.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
enough time--By jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States
jani johe shared her unique style and insight which left readers in awe. But more importantly, she was a bright light in the writing community, always ready to support others in their journeys. I am glad to have been able to call her my friend. She will be missed by many. Sincerely, Karen O’Leary--Editor
__________________
enough time
there has to be
just enough time
to see the sun
rise golden
and listen
to the earth
turn green again
there has to be
just enough time
to feel
sand and grass and snow
to watch a flower grow
and whisper to a tree
there has to be just enough time
__________________
From Nila Webster, jani johe’s daughter--"enough time" was always one of my mother's favorite poems. I can understand why. The haunting, gentle repetition of the phrase "there has to be / just enough time" is a universal reminder of the beauty and the fragility of this life.
__________________
enough time
there has to be
just enough time
to see the sun
rise golden
and listen
to the earth
turn green again
there has to be
just enough time
to feel
sand and grass and snow
to watch a flower grow
and whisper to a tree
there has to be just enough time
__________________
From Nila Webster, jani johe’s daughter--"enough time" was always one of my mother's favorite poems. I can understand why. The haunting, gentle repetition of the phrase "there has to be / just enough time" is a universal reminder of the beauty and the fragility of this life.
Delusions of Grandeur--By Robert P. Hansen--United States
Delusions of Grandeur
Figments of brilliance
Fall on the page;
The best I have written—
Boy will they pay!
An image that dances;
A song that entombs;
A rhythm that echoes;
A voice that breaks through;
A meter that tumbles—
Lost and confused—
To resonate softly
Between me and you;
The poem constructed,
The poem that’s read,
Are two separate creatures
That play in our heads;
In mine it is perfect
In rhythm and tone!
In yours? I suspect
It’s a different one….
Mr. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. His science fiction novel, The Snodgrass Incident, and collections of his poetry and short stories are currently available through various online retailers. His fantasy novel, The Tiger's Eye, will be available in June. For details and updates on his writing, visit his blog at: http://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/.
Figments of brilliance
Fall on the page;
The best I have written—
Boy will they pay!
An image that dances;
A song that entombs;
A rhythm that echoes;
A voice that breaks through;
A meter that tumbles—
Lost and confused—
To resonate softly
Between me and you;
The poem constructed,
The poem that’s read,
Are two separate creatures
That play in our heads;
In mine it is perfect
In rhythm and tone!
In yours? I suspect
It’s a different one….
Mr. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. His science fiction novel, The Snodgrass Incident, and collections of his poetry and short stories are currently available through various online retailers. His fantasy novel, The Tiger's Eye, will be available in June. For details and updates on his writing, visit his blog at: http://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Legacy-A Lanterne Sequence--By Brian Strand--England
Legacy-A Lanterne Sequence
Our
fragrance
lingers on
within those we
rear,
sweet
smelling
if in God we
fear-
and
above
hovering
blessing as a
dove,
our
bios
dissipate-
into those we
love
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.
Our
fragrance
lingers on
within those we
rear,
sweet
smelling
if in God we
fear-
and
above
hovering
blessing as a
dove,
our
bios
dissipate-
into those we
love
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.
I Walk on Water--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States
I Walk on Water
I walk on water…
I feel the coolness of the rolling waves
Splash beneath my feet.
I watch the sun sprinkle diamonds across the sea.
I float above the clouds and feel the radiant warmth
Of the sun bless my body.
I feel the power of the wind caress or twist
And break anything into submission.
I rise above the towering Alps…snowcapped and pristine.
I enjoy a fragile flower sharing the faint scent of heaven.
I know the grandeur of the Sequoias…ever growing.
I blend with verdant pastures and
Serene rolling hills in misty rain.
I know the secrets of the deep dark abyss.
I sense the moon’s tenderness and share in her emotions.
I flow with the clever rivers seeking new exciting paths.
I form a shimmering rainbow in waterfalls.
I am free to be the wind, the earth, the sea,
While all you see is me.
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 walk on water…
I feel the coolness of the rolling waves
Splash beneath my feet.
I watch the sun sprinkle diamonds across the sea.
I float above the clouds and feel the radiant warmth
Of the sun bless my body.
I feel the power of the wind caress or twist
And break anything into submission.
I rise above the towering Alps…snowcapped and pristine.
I enjoy a fragile flower sharing the faint scent of heaven.
I know the grandeur of the Sequoias…ever growing.
I blend with verdant pastures and
Serene rolling hills in misty rain.
I know the secrets of the deep dark abyss.
I sense the moon’s tenderness and share in her emotions.
I flow with the clever rivers seeking new exciting paths.
I form a shimmering rainbow in waterfalls.
I am free to be the wind, the earth, the sea,
While all you see is me.
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.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Poet of the Month--Sheri Stanley
Soft, Silence Sings, A Sonnet
By Sheri Stanley
Hear - in the silence an orchestra plays
In a whisper, in a moment, ballets
Soft transcendent symphony crescendos
Through the air, in the mountains, where it grows
Feel its power linger there as it builds
There is a magic in the humming fields
Wafting to the sky in a lullaby
Calming oceans, burning sunsets, feng shai
The cadence, the tempo, the pulsing beat
Realized accented measures so sweet
In the movement the flow comes as we go
Kissing tree tops rising, falling, and so …
Realized in a moment of splendor
Master Guru to whom I surrender
Note: Feng shai: Chinese/ feng: wind, shai –water
Total: balanced energies
_______________
From the editor--A talented poet, artist and musician, Sheri shares her gifts in a variety of ways including at her website, Poetry and Beyond. She has been so encouraging to others at Whispers, commenting on nearly all the poetry published at the site since she contributed her first poem. Sheri has promoted Whispers at her site and recommended talented people who are now contributors. She has written collaborative poems with other writers which have been featured at our online journal. Her talent shines through her words and is appreciated by readers. It is a pleasure to award Sheri June’s Poet of the Month!
_______________
Thoughts on “Soft, Silence Sings, A Sonnet”--I asked Sheri to submit a poem for her honor and was drawn to the relaxing sounds. As the poem progresses, the artist’s view flows from line to line in an effortless way that is a challenge to achieve. Rarely, does one find a poem that uses sounds so extensively to convey ideas. Yet, this poem works with a depth that leaves the reader something to ponder about.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Sheri! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
By Sheri Stanley
Hear - in the silence an orchestra plays
In a whisper, in a moment, ballets
Soft transcendent symphony crescendos
Through the air, in the mountains, where it grows
Feel its power linger there as it builds
There is a magic in the humming fields
Wafting to the sky in a lullaby
Calming oceans, burning sunsets, feng shai
The cadence, the tempo, the pulsing beat
Realized accented measures so sweet
In the movement the flow comes as we go
Kissing tree tops rising, falling, and so …
Realized in a moment of splendor
Master Guru to whom I surrender
Note: Feng shai: Chinese/ feng: wind, shai –water
Total: balanced energies
_______________
From the editor--A talented poet, artist and musician, Sheri shares her gifts in a variety of ways including at her website, Poetry and Beyond. She has been so encouraging to others at Whispers, commenting on nearly all the poetry published at the site since she contributed her first poem. Sheri has promoted Whispers at her site and recommended talented people who are now contributors. She has written collaborative poems with other writers which have been featured at our online journal. Her talent shines through her words and is appreciated by readers. It is a pleasure to award Sheri June’s Poet of the Month!
_______________
Thoughts on “Soft, Silence Sings, A Sonnet”--I asked Sheri to submit a poem for her honor and was drawn to the relaxing sounds. As the poem progresses, the artist’s view flows from line to line in an effortless way that is a challenge to achieve. Rarely, does one find a poem that uses sounds so extensively to convey ideas. Yet, this poem works with a depth that leaves the reader something to ponder about.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Sheri! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
Tanka--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada
from his white mouth
your hand looks dirty,
don't touch me ...
the silence and I (a Chinese)
some strange race on the bus
Equal for all ...
can these narcotic words
still her Colgate teeth
that nibble at
my yellow skin
acting white
like Miami heat
on the skin ...
he and his girlfriend
in shifting shades of light
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/
your hand looks dirty,
don't touch me ...
the silence and I (a Chinese)
some strange race on the bus
Equal for all ...
can these narcotic words
still her Colgate teeth
that nibble at
my yellow skin
acting white
like Miami heat
on the skin ...
he and his girlfriend
in shifting shades of light
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/
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Dad’s Day--By Gerald A. McBreen--United States
Dad’s Day
You always seemed to find a way
to make fun times even funner.
Challenged us to climb the ladder
to its highest rung.
When we thought we had run our race
you were there to up the pace.
Stretch our limits is what you taught.
You were the sparkle in our lives
the tonic to chase away the blues.
Now my sons tumble and jump
catch the ball and run amuck.
Dad, I can’t think of a better way
to honor you on this special day
than to be for them the father
you were for me.
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)
You always seemed to find a way
to make fun times even funner.
Challenged us to climb the ladder
to its highest rung.
When we thought we had run our race
you were there to up the pace.
Stretch our limits is what you taught.
You were the sparkle in our lives
the tonic to chase away the blues.
Now my sons tumble and jump
catch the ball and run amuck.
Dad, I can’t think of a better way
to honor you on this special day
than to be for them the father
you were for me.
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)
The Poet’s Epitaph--By Terry O'Leary--France
The Poet’s Epitaph
Her words, she strewed along the sand
while breakers washed ashore.
The ripples wove designs unplanned...
a verse forevermore
Her tales, entwined in cryptic airs
where freedom's seeds are blown,
warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware’...
her heresy is sown
Her life outlined a chronicle
along a lonesome road.
It started out as doggerel...
and ended as an ode.
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
Her words, she strewed along the sand
while breakers washed ashore.
The ripples wove designs unplanned...
a verse forevermore
Her tales, entwined in cryptic airs
where freedom's seeds are blown,
warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware’...
her heresy is sown
Her life outlined a chronicle
along a lonesome road.
It started out as doggerel...
and ended as an ode.
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
Friday, June 13, 2014
Letting Go--By Joyce Johnson--United States
Letting Go
Little boy with hair in curl,
Pretty as most any girl.
Feed you well to make you grow,
Wishing time was turned on slow.
Watching with attentive eye.
Guarding from the tricks you try.
Climbing in the apple tree,
Falling may you fall on me.
Proud I am to see you growing,
Even though it's with the knowing
Each step is one more step away
From the little boy I love today.
For just this while I hold you tight.
Tuck you in to sleep at night.
Playing my part in bigger plan,
For my small son, too soon a man.
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 96th birthday in July of 2014.
Little boy with hair in curl,
Pretty as most any girl.
Feed you well to make you grow,
Wishing time was turned on slow.
Watching with attentive eye.
Guarding from the tricks you try.
Climbing in the apple tree,
Falling may you fall on me.
Proud I am to see you growing,
Even though it's with the knowing
Each step is one more step away
From the little boy I love today.
For just this while I hold you tight.
Tuck you in to sleep at night.
Playing my part in bigger plan,
For my small son, too soon a man.
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 96th birthday in July of 2014.
Haiku/Senryu--By Shloka Shankar--India
a capella
in my backyard...
robin's song
_______________
scented petals
glisten in the sun...
spring showers
_______________
summer breeze...
dusty prints of hop-scotch
in our compound
_______________
rustling leaves…
the moon intrudes
my slumber
_______________
leaky tap
my thoughts drip from one
to the other
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.
in my backyard...
robin's song
_______________
scented petals
glisten in the sun...
spring showers
_______________
summer breeze...
dusty prints of hop-scotch
in our compound
_______________
rustling leaves…
the moon intrudes
my slumber
_______________
leaky tap
my thoughts drip from one
to the other
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.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
To Love Me--By James Rasmusson--United States
To Love Me
I would love for you
to love the love in me
as I love the love in you,
yet the sun never asked the moon
to return his light,
nor did the wildflower cease blooming
when there was no one around
to enjoy her resplendence.
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.
I would love for you
to love the love in me
as I love the love in you,
yet the sun never asked the moon
to return his light,
nor did the wildflower cease blooming
when there was no one around
to enjoy her resplendence.
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.
The Magician's Hall--By Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada
The Magician's Hall
The wind is in the west
and the moon large and low,
the tapered horizon aglow
with the recesses of a withered day;
How symphonic a minstrel display,
tallied up like gathered notes to eve's call,
and the swooning lake ----
How the waves chase the eastern fringes of the bay,
they ask not why they go this way
(or that)
yet merely harken God's call
as they persist their way,
fain without promise.....
And cresting my observations,
as if in some pantomime-movie play ----
I mused:
Where is the Projector?
Keith O. J. Hunt is a Classic-Romantic poet who generally prefers the older styles which he finds the greatest way to express his thoughts. He loves people, nature, spirituality and all things beautiful. Keith lives in Ottawa, Canada and has been writing poetry for 15 yrs.
The wind is in the west
and the moon large and low,
the tapered horizon aglow
with the recesses of a withered day;
How symphonic a minstrel display,
tallied up like gathered notes to eve's call,
and the swooning lake ----
How the waves chase the eastern fringes of the bay,
they ask not why they go this way
(or that)
yet merely harken God's call
as they persist their way,
fain without promise.....
And cresting my observations,
as if in some pantomime-movie play ----
I mused:
Where is the Projector?
Keith O. J. Hunt is a Classic-Romantic poet who generally prefers the older styles which he finds the greatest way to express his thoughts. He loves people, nature, spirituality and all things beautiful. Keith lives in Ottawa, Canada and has been writing poetry for 15 yrs.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
In the Clouds--By Zona Rowand Lawrence--United States
In the Clouds
The clouds crown a glow
of sunlight fading at eve
behind grey mountains
Clouds of smoky sun
above earth sea and mountains
wispy puff dragons
The cloud dragon came
spitting fire to the mountains
blue sky floats above
Raindrops on cobwebs
glisten like tiny diamonds
natures gems exposed
Sun breaking through clouds
creates silver dablooned seas
treasure untold waits
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.
The clouds crown a glow
of sunlight fading at eve
behind grey mountains
Clouds of smoky sun
above earth sea and mountains
wispy puff dragons
The cloud dragon came
spitting fire to the mountains
blue sky floats above
Raindrops on cobwebs
glisten like tiny diamonds
natures gems exposed
Sun breaking through clouds
creates silver dablooned seas
treasure untold waits
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.
Tanka--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada
Sweet scented flowers
budding on the lilac trees
tiny purple blossoms
cluster of floral delight
fill the crisp air in springtime.
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.
budding on the lilac trees
tiny purple blossoms
cluster of floral delight
fill the crisp air in springtime.
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.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Welcome Springtime--By Erich J. Goller--United States
Welcome Springtime
(Sedoka Suite)
Drops of jeweled light
sparkling bright in the night rain
blooming flowers bursting forth
Welcoming springtime
nature spreading its beauty
roses blend in radiant row
Wildflower landscape
blossomed buds on trees unfold
fresh, sweet scent of orchard trees
Oh, rainbow promise
no matter how big dreams are
the sun rays are of pure gold
Cotton clouds of white
the hilltops rich with colors
with each wondrous growing thing
Where the lilac grows
with the rising morning sun
the songbirds brighten the day
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
(Sedoka Suite)
Drops of jeweled light
sparkling bright in the night rain
blooming flowers bursting forth
Welcoming springtime
nature spreading its beauty
roses blend in radiant row
Wildflower landscape
blossomed buds on trees unfold
fresh, sweet scent of orchard trees
Oh, rainbow promise
no matter how big dreams are
the sun rays are of pure gold
Cotton clouds of white
the hilltops rich with colors
with each wondrous growing thing
Where the lilac grows
with the rising morning sun
the songbirds brighten the day
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
Broken Monoku--By Ralph Stott--England
broken monoku
..........wind-chimes
....................budding twigs play cat's-cradle
________________
.....land of hope and glory
.............an Inuit cuts a hole
________________
..........a tulip's petals close
..................a man writes by candlelight
________________
......a care-home
................a kitten in a tree
________________
.....chocolate-fingers
..................happy hands
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 The Sounding.
..........wind-chimes
....................budding twigs play cat's-cradle
________________
.....land of hope and glory
.............an Inuit cuts a hole
________________
..........a tulip's petals close
..................a man writes by candlelight
________________
......a care-home
................a kitten in a tree
________________
.....chocolate-fingers
..................happy hands
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 The Sounding.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem-- By James Fraser--Scotland and Carolyn Devonshire--United States
For Survival or Greed
By James Fraser and Carolyn Devonshire
A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
By striking fast they earn the right to live another day
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life naught
Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
If man continues to develop harsh weapons
The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
Consuming not just one animal species, but all
Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations
By James Fraser and Carolyn Devonshire
A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
By striking fast they earn the right to live another day
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life naught
Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
If man continues to develop harsh weapons
The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
Consuming not just one animal species, but all
Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations
Ten Woodpeckers--By Gerald Heyder--United States
Ten Woodpeckers
Some write poetry
from the heart,
some because they
think they’re smart,
others believe it
to be art!
Now, I’m asking
all of you,
just what is your
point of view?
Does poetic muse
do any good
if cryptic works
are only understood
by author and
ten woodpeckers
pecking wood?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Some write poetry
from the heart,
some because they
think they’re smart,
others believe it
to be art!
Now, I’m asking
all of you,
just what is your
point of view?
Does poetic muse
do any good
if cryptic works
are only understood
by author and
ten woodpeckers
pecking wood?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
The Oak Tree--By Yvonne Sparkes--England
The Oak Tree
His skin is rough, knobbly and hard,
Covered in notches, limbs grow akimbo,
No lovely face to charm the bard,
Yet a poem grows, though seems born in limbo.
His beauty is strength, a long mighty stand,
To outlive all mortals, he’s weathered it all,
Guarding, and gracing, this beautiful land,
Looking majestic, stout trunk, and so tall.
Tempests may blow but he’s firmly dug in,
With roots like biceps, such strength on display,
Magnificent, noble, he seems always to win,
Though others may fall and have feet of clay.
Impoverished we’d be without his persona,
As we gaze on strong limbs, and a green leafy face,
But though we may look with a mystical wonder,
Our own life is fleeting to greet time and space.
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.
His skin is rough, knobbly and hard,
Covered in notches, limbs grow akimbo,
No lovely face to charm the bard,
Yet a poem grows, though seems born in limbo.
His beauty is strength, a long mighty stand,
To outlive all mortals, he’s weathered it all,
Guarding, and gracing, this beautiful land,
Looking majestic, stout trunk, and so tall.
Tempests may blow but he’s firmly dug in,
With roots like biceps, such strength on display,
Magnificent, noble, he seems always to win,
Though others may fall and have feet of clay.
Impoverished we’d be without his persona,
As we gaze on strong limbs, and a green leafy face,
But though we may look with a mystical wonder,
Our own life is fleeting to greet time and space.
Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes, immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents. She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons. She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images. A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain. She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Old Street Lamp Light--By Russell Sivey--United States
Old Street Lamp Light
Rose-like glow, sophisticated in its light
At night the pleasant piece of lamp grows intrigue
All possible aspects brings a wondrous sight
It doesn’t allow any bit of fatigue
The old street lamp has a dim glow throughout it
Brings a light unlike any that’s about it
The universe seems to curve around its pose
Nothing’s as powerful as this lamp in rose
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.
Rose-like glow, sophisticated in its light
At night the pleasant piece of lamp grows intrigue
All possible aspects brings a wondrous sight
It doesn’t allow any bit of fatigue
The old street lamp has a dim glow throughout it
Brings a light unlike any that’s about it
The universe seems to curve around its pose
Nothing’s as powerful as this lamp in rose
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.
A Suburban Sunday Evening--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand
A Suburban Sunday Evening
In the soft, dark light of the cosy cottage
Four faces gleam which in the bright light of day
display middle-age jowls, crinkly eyelids
with edgings frayed into crevices
And now
they become exquisitely beautiful
as they smile and laugh in the glow.
Fullness of face has gone
Ah, youth has returned as we laugh and
talk of the news : the missing plane,
kidnapped girls in dark Africa,
then to music, family, work, cooking,
books and favourite writers
We eat cannelloni with spinach salad
Salty, crisp olive bread, drink red wine
As we listen to the Ave Maria with Kiri
Age will return tomorrow at the office desks
In the silvery blazing light of neon tubes
Our heads bowed.
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.
In the soft, dark light of the cosy cottage
Four faces gleam which in the bright light of day
display middle-age jowls, crinkly eyelids
with edgings frayed into crevices
And now
they become exquisitely beautiful
as they smile and laugh in the glow.
Fullness of face has gone
Ah, youth has returned as we laugh and
talk of the news : the missing plane,
kidnapped girls in dark Africa,
then to music, family, work, cooking,
books and favourite writers
We eat cannelloni with spinach salad
Salty, crisp olive bread, drink red wine
As we listen to the Ave Maria with Kiri
Age will return tomorrow at the office desks
In the silvery blazing light of neon tubes
Our heads bowed.
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.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Faith--By Eleanor Michael--United States
Faith
Born into this life
without knowledge,
we muddle through
with as much guidance
as we can find,
and at life’s end,
we leave with
as much dignity
as we can muster.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
Born into this life
without knowledge,
we muddle through
with as much guidance
as we can find,
and at life’s end,
we leave with
as much dignity
as we can muster.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
Haiku in 3--By Ron C. Moss--Australia
Haiku in 3
rock
sinks under
snow
river
slices into
sound
moon
slips over
stars
Frogpond, Winter 2012
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
rock
sinks under
snow
river
slices into
sound
moon
slips over
stars
Frogpond, Winter 2012
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
Friday, June 6, 2014
Looking Up--By Maralee Gerke--United States
Looking Up
His favorite teacher
taught him to name the wild stars
that span the night sky.
Her gift, imprinted
on his youthful mind
remained for life.
As he looks up toward the stars,
he remembers it all.
Her passion to ignite the universe in him.
She shared her astral light
and reflected it back
in pinpoints of celestial memory.
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.
His favorite teacher
taught him to name the wild stars
that span the night sky.
Her gift, imprinted
on his youthful mind
remained for life.
As he looks up toward the stars,
he remembers it all.
Her passion to ignite the universe in him.
She shared her astral light
and reflected it back
in pinpoints of celestial memory.
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.
Weaving a Tapestry--By George L. Ellison--England
Weaving a Tapestry
I FEEL THE EARTH MOVE below me though you’re SO FAR AWAY
IT’S TOO LATE now to hope that you will come back HOME AGAIN;
You always were so BEAUTIFUL But now you are WAY OVER YONDER
Please hear me and know That YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND
WHEREever YOU LEAD I will wander
WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW? I really have to know
Like SMACKWATER JACK on the rampage I’m always on the go
So I’ll continue to weave my TAPESTRY of the NATURAL WOMAN
That I love more than you could know
Note--Capitalized words are song titles from Carole King’s Tapestry album
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!
I FEEL THE EARTH MOVE below me though you’re SO FAR AWAY
IT’S TOO LATE now to hope that you will come back HOME AGAIN;
You always were so BEAUTIFUL But now you are WAY OVER YONDER
Please hear me and know That YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND
WHEREever YOU LEAD I will wander
WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME TOMORROW? I really have to know
Like SMACKWATER JACK on the rampage I’m always on the go
So I’ll continue to weave my TAPESTRY of the NATURAL WOMAN
That I love more than you could know
Note--Capitalized words are song titles from Carole King’s Tapestry album
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!
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Tanka--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India
sun’s rays
through bare branches
on my pillow --
I still feel his
warmth
_______________
tattered cirrus clouds
stretch
over a hill top--
we climb holding
hand in hand
_______________
burgeoning
December fog
on the room window --
blow my breath
to write his name
_______________
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.
through bare branches
on my pillow --
I still feel his
warmth
_______________
tattered cirrus clouds
stretch
over a hill top--
we climb holding
hand in hand
_______________
burgeoning
December fog
on the room window --
blow my breath
to write his name
_______________
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 Different Kind of Participation--By Suzanne Clement--United States
A Different Kind of Participation
The
summer
that I was
14 was the
last summer that I
participated in
activities sponsored by
Dover’s summer playground program.
I’m
thankful
God provides
ways that I can
participate in
serving Him in my life
as well as read books and walk
even though I’m not a person
who climbs the jungle gym any more.
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
The
summer
that I was
14 was the
last summer that I
participated in
activities sponsored by
Dover’s summer playground program.
I’m
thankful
God provides
ways that I can
participate in
serving Him in my life
as well as read books and walk
even though I’m not a person
who climbs the jungle gym any more.
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Sleep--By Pam Murray--Canada
Sleep
Down through the layers I silently fall
Past glimpses of dreams that I barely recall.
The warmth of a quilt, like a comforting shell
Enfolded in moonlight is weaving its spell
With memories of childhood that dance everywhere
And dark grown-up worries I no longer share.
Deeper and deeper I slowly drift through
An ocean that holds my soul in review;
Those years that have touched me and helped me to be
A person who, moment by moment, sets free
The passions I’ve nurtured, both happy and sad.
I slip through my sleep with these feelings I’ve had
And know that my heart will be catching each thread
To weave the great tapestry inside my head
While I find the peace of my blissful repose,
The sweetest experience anyone knows.
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.
Down through the layers I silently fall
Past glimpses of dreams that I barely recall.
The warmth of a quilt, like a comforting shell
Enfolded in moonlight is weaving its spell
With memories of childhood that dance everywhere
And dark grown-up worries I no longer share.
Deeper and deeper I slowly drift through
An ocean that holds my soul in review;
Those years that have touched me and helped me to be
A person who, moment by moment, sets free
The passions I’ve nurtured, both happy and sad.
I slip through my sleep with these feelings I’ve had
And know that my heart will be catching each thread
To weave the great tapestry inside my head
While I find the peace of my blissful repose,
The sweetest experience anyone knows.
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 Maurice J. Reynolds and Sheri Stanley--United States
Butterfly Ballet
By Maurice J. Reynolds and Sheri Stanley
It was just a moment
but within that moment
you landed upon the tip
of my finger displaying
resplendent beauty with wings
of sparkling hues ….
I pause just to admire
the wonderment of creation.
Definitely not ashamed to say
that I stand in awe of you….
A gentle creature filled with
splendor, passion, grace and a
peace that can set at ease
even the most frustrating of days.
Please stay, don’t fly away just yet …..
For just this micro-breath in time
this bond we share, so sweet!
But, in my heart and memory
this blessing I will see -
you, lit upon my fingertip
your lovely wings a-flutter,
in Butterfly Ballet you flow
and, melt my heart like butter.
I wish that I could fly away
with you, into the sun’s ray
One moment more before you fly
into forever on this high,
joined together, we two,
this melding, bonding unity,
of holy, goodness sanctity ……..
By Maurice J. Reynolds and Sheri Stanley
It was just a moment
but within that moment
you landed upon the tip
of my finger displaying
resplendent beauty with wings
of sparkling hues ….
I pause just to admire
the wonderment of creation.
Definitely not ashamed to say
that I stand in awe of you….
A gentle creature filled with
splendor, passion, grace and a
peace that can set at ease
even the most frustrating of days.
Please stay, don’t fly away just yet …..
For just this micro-breath in time
this bond we share, so sweet!
But, in my heart and memory
this blessing I will see -
you, lit upon my fingertip
your lovely wings a-flutter,
in Butterfly Ballet you flow
and, melt my heart like butter.
I wish that I could fly away
with you, into the sun’s ray
One moment more before you fly
into forever on this high,
joined together, we two,
this melding, bonding unity,
of holy, goodness sanctity ……..
Gaining Wisdom--By Yancy Lee Dalton--United States
Gaining Wisdom (Triodyne)
Darkness brightens the light
Experiencing bad brings out the good
Knowing the difference is wisdom
Yancy’s Challenge--Try a Triodyne
(note--you can submit your poems
in the comment section below)
Yancy's new style of poetry
Title--One word or phrase
Three lines to define title
Rhyme--A-b-b or free style
Syllable count--with or with out, your choice
Meter--With or with out, your choice
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
Darkness brightens the light
Experiencing bad brings out the good
Knowing the difference is wisdom
Yancy’s Challenge--Try a Triodyne
(note--you can submit your poems
in the comment section below)
Yancy's new style of poetry
Title--One word or phrase
Three lines to define title
Rhyme--A-b-b or free style
Syllable count--with or with out, your choice
Meter--With or with out, your choice
Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Haiku--By Rita Odeh--Israel
the parallel lines
of the railroad tracks-
missing you
_______________
crowded park-
a couple hugs
in my shadow
_______________
Romeo and Juliet-
the seat next to me
remains vacant
_______________
peace talk—
the third crow
of a rooster
_______________
waning moon-
on her mourning dress,
a white pacifier
_______________
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
of the railroad tracks-
missing you
_______________
crowded park-
a couple hugs
in my shadow
_______________
Romeo and Juliet-
the seat next to me
remains vacant
_______________
peace talk—
the third crow
of a rooster
_______________
waning moon-
on her mourning dress,
a white pacifier
_______________
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
Exposed Stars--By Sara Kendrick--United States
Exposed Stars
Cool and crisp eve lighted by exposed stars
A nearly full moon, a quiet that's ours
Through dark bare limbs of silhouetted oak
Moments thinking of our time to part
Will the hands of midnight soon stroke
And one of us wear the mourning cloak?
Alas, my love let's together depart
To the Son lit city by His call evoke
Our night love flowing from an open heart
Let's enter our night that work of love's art
Come into the twilight let's slowly walk
Into night's dwelling never to depart
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.
Cool and crisp eve lighted by exposed stars
A nearly full moon, a quiet that's ours
Through dark bare limbs of silhouetted oak
Moments thinking of our time to part
Will the hands of midnight soon stroke
And one of us wear the mourning cloak?
Alas, my love let's together depart
To the Son lit city by His call evoke
Our night love flowing from an open heart
Let's enter our night that work of love's art
Come into the twilight let's slowly walk
Into night's dwelling never to depart
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.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Unspoken Words--By Paul Callus--Malta
Unspoken Words
I often scribble in the sand
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along
And blow them all your way.
Paul Callus is a Maltese author who writes both in Maltese and English. He has contributed to several anthologies. Apart from poetry he writes lyrics for songs and has published two books, one a story book aimed at children (related to his experience as a teacher) and a historical book based on research.
I often scribble in the sand
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along
And blow them all your way.
Paul Callus is a Maltese author who writes both in Maltese and English. He has contributed to several anthologies. Apart from poetry he writes lyrics for songs and has published two books, one a story book aimed at children (related to his experience as a teacher) and a historical book based on research.
"Resting"--By Kelly Deschler--United States
"Resting"
My mind is in need of rest
just for a moment, brief,
a silent little repose here
will surely bring to me relief.
My heavy eyelids gently fall
and shut out the entire world,
my hair lays down and relaxes
even though it has been curled.
I breathe in slowly and deeply
my heartbeat settles down,
my ears can hear around me
the wind's soft whispering sound.
It lifts me to a far off place
where clouds become my bed,
I reach out to grab another
like a soft pillow for my head.
You can only imagine
what I can only see,
as I dream a beautiful dream
that was meant just for me.
Kelly Deschler is a poet from Big Falls, WI. Several of her works have been printed in compilations with Eber & Wein Publishing. Including, Endless Horizon's: Nature's Embrace (2009), Best Poets Of 2010, Times Like These: Right Now (2010), Patience and Grace (2012), In My Lifetime, Who's Who In American Poetry, and This Time Around (2013).
My mind is in need of rest
just for a moment, brief,
a silent little repose here
will surely bring to me relief.
My heavy eyelids gently fall
and shut out the entire world,
my hair lays down and relaxes
even though it has been curled.
I breathe in slowly and deeply
my heartbeat settles down,
my ears can hear around me
the wind's soft whispering sound.
It lifts me to a far off place
where clouds become my bed,
I reach out to grab another
like a soft pillow for my head.
You can only imagine
what I can only see,
as I dream a beautiful dream
that was meant just for me.
Kelly Deschler is a poet from Big Falls, WI. Several of her works have been printed in compilations with Eber & Wein Publishing. Including, Endless Horizon's: Nature's Embrace (2009), Best Poets Of 2010, Times Like These: Right Now (2010), Patience and Grace (2012), In My Lifetime, Who's Who In American Poetry, and This Time Around (2013).
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Caring--By Beth Winchcombe--England
Caring
Whatever I have,
may not be much,
but I give it with love
wholeheartedly!
I give you my time.
I listen, because I care.
You're my friend,
I'll always be there,
for you!
I'll dry your tears,
help to dispel your fears.
Wherever you travel,
I'm your shadow.
That's what friends are for,
always, evermore!
The world would be a better place,
if the whole human race,
cared for each other
like a brother.
Shalom....peace be with you.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
Whatever I have,
may not be much,
but I give it with love
wholeheartedly!
I give you my time.
I listen, because I care.
You're my friend,
I'll always be there,
for you!
I'll dry your tears,
help to dispel your fears.
Wherever you travel,
I'm your shadow.
That's what friends are for,
always, evermore!
The world would be a better place,
if the whole human race,
cared for each other
like a brother.
Shalom....peace be with you.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
Haiku--By Ronald Grognet--United States
captivating
jasmine aroma
short walks longer
cherry blossoms
in the tidal basin--
a paddle boat
harvest
from the fields
tornado debris
Ronald Grognet is a retired Clinical Psychologist who practiced private individual and family therapy for thirty-five years. He lived and worked in Washington D.C., and Sarasota, FL before retiring in New Orleans to be close to his grandsons. Besides his volunteer time spent on disaster assignments for the Red Cross, he fills his time devoted to haiku poetry. His interest in poetry came as a gift in retirement. Reading an article about haiku filled with many examples, he recognized its similarity to the reflective stance of the meditation he practiced for many years. He has vigorously pursued its study for the last two years, personally experiencing its healing and enlightening qualities.
jasmine aroma
short walks longer
cherry blossoms
in the tidal basin--
a paddle boat
harvest
from the fields
tornado debris
Ronald Grognet is a retired Clinical Psychologist who practiced private individual and family therapy for thirty-five years. He lived and worked in Washington D.C., and Sarasota, FL before retiring in New Orleans to be close to his grandsons. Besides his volunteer time spent on disaster assignments for the Red Cross, he fills his time devoted to haiku poetry. His interest in poetry came as a gift in retirement. Reading an article about haiku filled with many examples, he recognized its similarity to the reflective stance of the meditation he practiced for many years. He has vigorously pursued its study for the last two years, personally experiencing its healing and enlightening qualities.
JUNE ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN MAY
James Marshall Goff--United States
Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States
Pamela A. MacBean--United States
Cristine A. Gruber--United States
Nila J. Webster--United States
Lenora Good--United States
Beverly Reedy--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, Israel, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, 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.
Note--Ads due for July column by June 25
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/
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
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 Jokester and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
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.
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
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.
James Marshall Goff--United States
Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States
Pamela A. MacBean--United States
Cristine A. Gruber--United States
Nila J. Webster--United States
Lenora Good--United States
Beverly Reedy--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, Israel, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, 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.
Note--Ads due for July column by June 25
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/
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
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 Jokester and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
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.
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
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.