Spirit of Earth
I imagine you in all things;
alive in the sparkle of oceans, lakes and streams.
In misty veils that hang on dawn, like lavender dreams.
Spirit of Earth I’ve seen your breath arise,
in secret places where clouds are formed.
I’ve heard your silver laughter, as another stream is born.
In forests that call forth flowers and leaves.
In opal skies that cycle clouds, to rebirth every Spring.
Sweet Spirit of Earth lying in banks of blue flowers
Wonder, dream, and delight –these are your words.
Words that bid new mountains rise, convoluting
deep confessions like spells in violet eyes.
In dark realms is your Spirit waiting to arise.
Like a collage of beauty - Spirit of Earth
Your wisdom of renewal flows through all things.
Death is your slumber of symphonies, unsung.
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. A resident of Hawaii, USA she was born in Tasmania. She now has time to pursue her passion for writing poetry, creating collages and for traveling.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Maestro--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States
Maestro
his thin crippled hand
conducts orchestra music
from an FM radio station
too loud for the room
too quiet to drown sounds
of the mechanical pump
his heart monitor beep
or sobs from his audience
Carl "Papa" Palmer, retired Army, retired FAA, now just plain retired, lives in University Place, Washington. He has seven chapbooks and a contest winning poem riding buses somewhere in Seattle. Carl has been nominated for the Micro Award and Pushcart Prize. He is a hospice volunteer.
MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever
www.authorsden.com/carlpalmer
his thin crippled hand
conducts orchestra music
from an FM radio station
too loud for the room
too quiet to drown sounds
of the mechanical pump
his heart monitor beep
or sobs from his audience
Carl "Papa" Palmer, retired Army, retired FAA, now just plain retired, lives in University Place, Washington. He has seven chapbooks and a contest winning poem riding buses somewhere in Seattle. Carl has been nominated for the Micro Award and Pushcart Prize. He is a hospice volunteer.
MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever
www.authorsden.com/carlpalmer
Thursday, July 24, 2014
As Leaves Turn…--By Karen O'Leary--United States
As Leaves Turn…
…the turns I make
define my moments
define my journey
define my inner core
…and when the final
leaf turns, I hope it
matters
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.
…the turns I make
define my moments
define my journey
define my inner core
…and when the final
leaf turns, I hope it
matters
Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND. Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues. She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher. Their second project, Snippets...an anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012. Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
The Chimney--By Colan Hiatt--United States
The Chimney
Amid a cluster of the trees
I saw it standing there erect
An old chimney from yesteryear
Little deterioration could I detect
It’s hard to believe that years ago
A home graced this very site
Timbers that were firm and strong -
Decay and ruin, are now their plight
The handiwork of bygone days
That once seemed to be intact
Are mixed within the rubble now
A product of, time's impact
How true in life, can we relate
To fading of, things not secure
All that's not built upon the Rock
In time will fail - to endure
So it seems I should ever be aware
Of the rock "chimney" when I pray
Lord grant that I would ever choose
Things that will abide, and not decay
Colan Hiatt resides in Mt. Airy, NC. with his wife. A retired electronic technician, he has been writing for several years. Most all the poetry, is derived from observing "down-to-earth" events that occur around us. A personal "mini-story" is often associated with the majority of compositions. Usually a metaphor is found with spiritual implications that portray God as the ultimate solution to life's problems. To direct the reader to this "Source", is the desired goal.
Amid a cluster of the trees
I saw it standing there erect
An old chimney from yesteryear
Little deterioration could I detect
It’s hard to believe that years ago
A home graced this very site
Timbers that were firm and strong -
Decay and ruin, are now their plight
The handiwork of bygone days
That once seemed to be intact
Are mixed within the rubble now
A product of, time's impact
How true in life, can we relate
To fading of, things not secure
All that's not built upon the Rock
In time will fail - to endure
So it seems I should ever be aware
Of the rock "chimney" when I pray
Lord grant that I would ever choose
Things that will abide, and not decay
Colan Hiatt resides in Mt. Airy, NC. with his wife. A retired electronic technician, he has been writing for several years. Most all the poetry, is derived from observing "down-to-earth" events that occur around us. A personal "mini-story" is often associated with the majority of compositions. Usually a metaphor is found with spiritual implications that portray God as the ultimate solution to life's problems. To direct the reader to this "Source", is the desired goal.
Crystalline Wings--By Audrey Haick--United States
Crystalline Wings
The trodden pathway of brown pebble stones and grass
Leads to a hidden meadow below a mountain pass
Where soft gentle winds flow endless from blue skies
Whispering secrets to agile dragonflies
That frolic in sunshine amongst daffodils
Wings with touches of gold dip low just for thrills
As bumble bees hum; and a bird playfully sings …
Watching sun rays reflect on crystalline wings
Audrey, a.k.a. Annalise Brigham resides in beautiful Maryland, U.S.A. A Mother to one amazing daughter. She's also a published author and loves writing and reading poetry.
The trodden pathway of brown pebble stones and grass
Leads to a hidden meadow below a mountain pass
Where soft gentle winds flow endless from blue skies
Whispering secrets to agile dragonflies
That frolic in sunshine amongst daffodils
Wings with touches of gold dip low just for thrills
As bumble bees hum; and a bird playfully sings …
Watching sun rays reflect on crystalline wings
Audrey, a.k.a. Annalise Brigham resides in beautiful Maryland, U.S.A. A Mother to one amazing daughter. She's also a published author and loves writing and reading poetry.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Direction--By Barbara Siekierski--United States
Direction
Someday
I will call you home.
Until then…
live each day
with a song
in your heart
a smile
for someone in need
and stroll through
the rivers and valleys
look upon each day
as a gift
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Someday
I will call you home.
Until then…
live each day
with a song
in your heart
a smile
for someone in need
and stroll through
the rivers and valleys
look upon each day
as a gift
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Scary--By David Fox--United States
Scary
As I went to bed and turned out the light
I saw an image that gave me a fright
Was it a witch, a goblin or ghost?
Or was it a skeleton that frightened me most?
I turned out the light to see what was there
But it was only a blanket -- over a chair.
David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester, Weekly Avocet and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry. Contact him at ipoetdavid@gmail.com for more information.
As I went to bed and turned out the light
I saw an image that gave me a fright
Was it a witch, a goblin or ghost?
Or was it a skeleton that frightened me most?
I turned out the light to see what was there
But it was only a blanket -- over a chair.
David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester, Weekly Avocet and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry. Contact him at ipoetdavid@gmail.com for more information.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Excerpt from Remember Beauty and Songs for a Blue Time--By Nila J. Webster--United States
remember to draw
around yourself
a golden circle
on a day
when it seems
that the whole world
cannot hear
the poem of your soul
_______________
Author's comments--These lines are an excerpt from Remember Beauty and Songs for a Blue Time, the story of a friendship between a wolf and a little cat. When the wolf must take a long journey, he shares these words with his friend, as a source of strength. My beloved mother, jani johe webster, always taught me that no matter how harsh the outer world can seem, we always have our inner poem glowing quietly.
_______________
Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 23,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net.
around yourself
a golden circle
on a day
when it seems
that the whole world
cannot hear
the poem of your soul
_______________
Author's comments--These lines are an excerpt from Remember Beauty and Songs for a Blue Time, the story of a friendship between a wolf and a little cat. When the wolf must take a long journey, he shares these words with his friend, as a source of strength. My beloved mother, jani johe webster, always taught me that no matter how harsh the outer world can seem, we always have our inner poem glowing quietly.
_______________
Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 23,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net.
As in the Beginning--By Pamela A. MacBean--United States
As in the Beginning
artist
craftsman divine
paints damask rose sunsets
picturesque pleasures delight eyes
master
Pam is currently battling metastatic breast cancer and is doing remarkably well. Some of her poetry is on Poetry For Thought and AllPoetry.com. She has been published in many online and print journals, and has had two chapbooks published, Postscripts in Time and A Dalton View. In the Great Northwoods, a collection of poetry was published by Publish America. She lives in New Hampshire.
artist
craftsman divine
paints damask rose sunsets
picturesque pleasures delight eyes
master
Pam is currently battling metastatic breast cancer and is doing remarkably well. Some of her poetry is on Poetry For Thought and AllPoetry.com. She has been published in many online and print journals, and has had two chapbooks published, Postscripts in Time and A Dalton View. In the Great Northwoods, a collection of poetry was published by Publish America. She lives in New Hampshire.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Little Tree Lost--By Kathryn McLoughlin Collins--United States
Little Tree Lost
Oh how I love a tree;
any tree, anywhere:
longtime triple-trunked
royal trees;
redwoods giant, gallant
rising, heavenly;
trees, tall and slender,
so tall you can’t catch them;
short trees eye to eye with me
and so we talk squirrel talk.
I have a tree inside about 18” high;
he lives on my corian counter;
when he hears the wind,
and takes a look outside
he sees his cousins swaying
cries a tear and softly sighs.
Born in 1945, Kathryn Collins is a native New Yorker now living in Connecticut whose works have been described as “a gentle sort of poetry” by the editor of her first book No Need for Breadcrumbs, published by BeWrite Books, 2004. Her work has also appeared in numerous anthologies. Inspired by her beloved grandmother, she developed a great love of poetry at an early age and has been writing for 20 years.
Oh how I love a tree;
any tree, anywhere:
longtime triple-trunked
royal trees;
redwoods giant, gallant
rising, heavenly;
trees, tall and slender,
so tall you can’t catch them;
short trees eye to eye with me
and so we talk squirrel talk.
I have a tree inside about 18” high;
he lives on my corian counter;
when he hears the wind,
and takes a look outside
he sees his cousins swaying
cries a tear and softly sighs.
Born in 1945, Kathryn Collins is a native New Yorker now living in Connecticut whose works have been described as “a gentle sort of poetry” by the editor of her first book No Need for Breadcrumbs, published by BeWrite Books, 2004. Her work has also appeared in numerous anthologies. Inspired by her beloved grandmother, she developed a great love of poetry at an early age and has been writing for 20 years.
Sunrise--By Janet Vick--United States
Sunrise
Teasing horizon
harmonizing nature’s songs
touching souls. (with your approval)
Inspires awe, awareness tingles
as dawn stirs new beginnings
to life.
Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.
Teasing horizon
harmonizing nature’s songs
touching souls. (with your approval)
Inspires awe, awareness tingles
as dawn stirs new beginnings
to life.
Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Haiku--By Lisa DeVinney--United States
toadstool sentinels
standing at full attention
o’er clover charges
_______________
ribbons of silver
lining the lavender clouds
a gift-wrapped sunset
_______________
the dawn’s early light
crowning a still sleepy world
with heaven’s glory
_______________
gigantic raindrops
bursting like water balloons
on sun-baked sidewalks
_______________
the evening sky blushed
with a touch of rosy-red
as dusk kissed her cheek
_______________
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at liftingmyeyes.com
standing at full attention
o’er clover charges
_______________
ribbons of silver
lining the lavender clouds
a gift-wrapped sunset
_______________
the dawn’s early light
crowning a still sleepy world
with heaven’s glory
_______________
gigantic raindrops
bursting like water balloons
on sun-baked sidewalks
_______________
the evening sky blushed
with a touch of rosy-red
as dusk kissed her cheek
_______________
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at liftingmyeyes.com
Universe--By Ranu Uniyal--India
Universe
Because the steady drops have no water
To quench this aching fire
I prefer to be without.
Because they have always held it against me
This weakness for you
I prefer to be distant.
Because the space between us is happy
No matter what the earth does to the sea
I prefer to wait.
Because no one can whip and destroy
Stretches of love that winds blow
I prefer to pray.
(Published in Ranu’s first collection Across the Divide, 2006)
Ranu Uniyal lives in Lucknow, India. Poetry keeps her going and is as much a part of her life as her love for humanity. She is a Professor of English at Lucknow University. She has two books of poems: Across the Divide and December Poems to her credit.
Because the steady drops have no water
To quench this aching fire
I prefer to be without.
Because they have always held it against me
This weakness for you
I prefer to be distant.
Because the space between us is happy
No matter what the earth does to the sea
I prefer to wait.
Because no one can whip and destroy
Stretches of love that winds blow
I prefer to pray.
(Published in Ranu’s first collection Across the Divide, 2006)
Ranu Uniyal lives in Lucknow, India. Poetry keeps her going and is as much a part of her life as her love for humanity. She is a Professor of English at Lucknow University. She has two books of poems: Across the Divide and December Poems to her credit.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Goethe’s Path--By Andrea Dietrich--United States
Goethe’s Path
Today I have the wish to wander.
Down Goethe’s path I choose to go
with a world of thought to ponder.
Where I might end up - I do not know.
I meander with a little stream.
All around me, myriads of trees
stand like seers; serene and sage they seem.
The stream’s sweet murmur carries on the breeze.
Something fresh! A rumble I can hear.
This rumble has a soothing quality;
my prior musings start to disappear.
The source of this new sound I have to see!
Goethe’s path has led me to a secret place.
Clear water is cascading into a lake.
There is no world of thought when facing grace.
Embracing bliss, I have a plunge to take~
Andrea Dietrich grew up in Iowa and now resides in Utah with a spouse and two cats. She has two grown children and six grandchildren. Having graduated BYU with a Spanish major/ESL minor, she has spent most of her adult life teaching. It wasn't until 2000 that she began writing in earnest and discovering her "niche" as a writer of lyrical poetry. The internet opened up a new world for her, and she has spent nearly a decade now participating in poetry clubs, acting as a judge of poetry contests for various magazines and for the website Shadow Poetry.
Today I have the wish to wander.
Down Goethe’s path I choose to go
with a world of thought to ponder.
Where I might end up - I do not know.
I meander with a little stream.
All around me, myriads of trees
stand like seers; serene and sage they seem.
The stream’s sweet murmur carries on the breeze.
Something fresh! A rumble I can hear.
This rumble has a soothing quality;
my prior musings start to disappear.
The source of this new sound I have to see!
Goethe’s path has led me to a secret place.
Clear water is cascading into a lake.
There is no world of thought when facing grace.
Embracing bliss, I have a plunge to take~
Andrea Dietrich grew up in Iowa and now resides in Utah with a spouse and two cats. She has two grown children and six grandchildren. Having graduated BYU with a Spanish major/ESL minor, she has spent most of her adult life teaching. It wasn't until 2000 that she began writing in earnest and discovering her "niche" as a writer of lyrical poetry. The internet opened up a new world for her, and she has spent nearly a decade now participating in poetry clubs, acting as a judge of poetry contests for various magazines and for the website Shadow Poetry.
Delicious--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States
Delicious
There are many things in our world today
that leave a sour taste in our mouth, yet, what
about the change of seasons, each one special
in its own right; the helping hand of the stranger
you don’t know; the wind’s kiss across the
awaiting skin of our body; nature’s scenic extravaganza
of country sides, monuments, sunsets, and natural
wonders? Delicious is the taste of your child’s high school
graduation and success in life. Delicious is the moments
when our nation comes together in times of crisis and in
times of peace. Delicious is the story of how a life was
changed by the goodness of God; the quiet afternoon on
the patio with a good book and the company of the birds,
squirrels, trees and other beautiful creations.
Delicious is looking up into the sky to count as many
stars as the eyes can see; holding hands under the
moonlight and having dinner at the place you first met.
Delicious is the goodness that flows from the lives of
good people who multiply the love in their heart to know
that many aspects of this world are delicious.
Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations. More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
There are many things in our world today
that leave a sour taste in our mouth, yet, what
about the change of seasons, each one special
in its own right; the helping hand of the stranger
you don’t know; the wind’s kiss across the
awaiting skin of our body; nature’s scenic extravaganza
of country sides, monuments, sunsets, and natural
wonders? Delicious is the taste of your child’s high school
graduation and success in life. Delicious is the moments
when our nation comes together in times of crisis and in
times of peace. Delicious is the story of how a life was
changed by the goodness of God; the quiet afternoon on
the patio with a good book and the company of the birds,
squirrels, trees and other beautiful creations.
Delicious is looking up into the sky to count as many
stars as the eyes can see; holding hands under the
moonlight and having dinner at the place you first met.
Delicious is the goodness that flows from the lives of
good people who multiply the love in their heart to know
that many aspects of this world are delicious.
Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations. More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
A Time For Everything--By Christine Tate--United States
A Time For Everything
There are tears of joy that flow with ease
and tears of grief that flood the soul...
good times pass by like a breeze
and gusts of pain can take their toll.
moments to relish fond memories
or ones that trigger nightmares...
glorious times of jubilee
and hours of deep despair.
seasons in life come and go
they never do stand still...
but we can learn and grow
by trusting in God's will.
why not give thanks each day
while enjoying the ride,
not wasting hours away
being dissatisfied.
before we turn around
life will pass us by,
and we will face eternity
in a blink of an eye!
Christine Tate lives in New Jersey. She is the mother of three married sons and has eight grandchildren. She started writing inspirational poetry in 1994, and is blessed to encourage others and honor the Lord. She was widowed in 2007 and met her new husband Artie, a widower, in the nursing facility where their late mothers resided. They've been happily married for 2 1/2 years. Since neither of them ever expected to marry again, they consider it a "divine appt."
There are tears of joy that flow with ease
and tears of grief that flood the soul...
good times pass by like a breeze
and gusts of pain can take their toll.
moments to relish fond memories
or ones that trigger nightmares...
glorious times of jubilee
and hours of deep despair.
seasons in life come and go
they never do stand still...
but we can learn and grow
by trusting in God's will.
why not give thanks each day
while enjoying the ride,
not wasting hours away
being dissatisfied.
before we turn around
life will pass us by,
and we will face eternity
in a blink of an eye!
Christine Tate lives in New Jersey. She is the mother of three married sons and has eight grandchildren. She started writing inspirational poetry in 1994, and is blessed to encourage others and honor the Lord. She was widowed in 2007 and met her new husband Artie, a widower, in the nursing facility where their late mothers resided. They've been happily married for 2 1/2 years. Since neither of them ever expected to marry again, they consider it a "divine appt."
Again…--By Rhoda Galgiani--United States
Again…
Ripples from the tide caress the image
A touch of grace came into view
With widened eyes one can see
New teachings written on the scroll
Coolness brought down the heat
That penetrated the souls search
Bright visions of clarity now prevail
Whispers of thanks became prevalent
Again, blessings have come
To care for one at a needed time
Again, He has figured it all out and
Came to aid the one who has lost tears -
Drying them with love
Rhoda Galgiani has published two books - Expressions From the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny - A Child's Book. She also maintains a website with instructional poetry forms called Expressions Poetry Journal at chesakat1.blogspot.com Come visit for a relaxing moment and poetry instructions.
Ripples from the tide caress the image
A touch of grace came into view
With widened eyes one can see
New teachings written on the scroll
Coolness brought down the heat
That penetrated the souls search
Bright visions of clarity now prevail
Whispers of thanks became prevalent
Again, blessings have come
To care for one at a needed time
Again, He has figured it all out and
Came to aid the one who has lost tears -
Drying them with love
Rhoda Galgiani has published two books - Expressions From the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny - A Child's Book. She also maintains a website with instructional poetry forms called Expressions Poetry Journal at chesakat1.blogspot.com Come visit for a relaxing moment and poetry instructions.
Haiku--By Nikko Palmario--Philippines
canopy of leaves
covers golden mango bunch...
rustle of bat wings
Nikko Palmario is someone who enjoys dabbling with words and chocolate.
covers golden mango bunch...
rustle of bat wings
Nikko Palmario is someone who enjoys dabbling with words and chocolate.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Poet of the Month--Sandra Stefanowich
Lookout Mountain
By Sandra Stefanowich
Midnight blue were my eyes
as the ebony seeped into
my tired, weakened bones
helpless against the winds
haunting this clouded mind
you were nowhere in sight
the silence shook my soul
and no stars shone tonight
as I travelled this empty road
to another passageway in time
but the sun somehow had risen
pastel hues of daylight emerged
as I gazed upon the mountain
tears running down its stony face
shedding the ones I couldn't cry
echoing across the distance
came the sound of your name
I was there looking for you
roaming in the vast woodlands
lamenting in a wish to go back
when you look upon high
a part of me I've left there
and if these words reach you
will you meet me again someday
on top of Lookout Mountain
_______________
From the editor--It is an honor to announce that Sandra Stefanowich is July’s Poet of the Month. She is a talented writer and photographer who has been published in a variety of venues. Readers at Whispers relate to the depth of her heartfelt poetry. Sandra has been an encouraging voice at our online journal since its onset in 2013. She regularly leaves thoughtful comments which others appreciate. Sandra has collaborated with other writers on several poems that have been featured at Whispers. It is a pleasure to present Sandra with this honor!
_______________
Thoughts on “Lookout Mountain”--Right from the onset, Sandra grabbed my attention with vivid imagery. The emotion flows through her words in a powerful and heartfelt way, a hallmark of many of Sandra’s poems. She allows the reader to experience the loneliness and loss as she shares this journey. At the end, all I can say is Wow! “Lookout Mountain” is one of those pieces that will be remembered by many.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Sandra! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
By Sandra Stefanowich
Midnight blue were my eyes
as the ebony seeped into
my tired, weakened bones
helpless against the winds
haunting this clouded mind
you were nowhere in sight
the silence shook my soul
and no stars shone tonight
as I travelled this empty road
to another passageway in time
but the sun somehow had risen
pastel hues of daylight emerged
as I gazed upon the mountain
tears running down its stony face
shedding the ones I couldn't cry
echoing across the distance
came the sound of your name
I was there looking for you
roaming in the vast woodlands
lamenting in a wish to go back
when you look upon high
a part of me I've left there
and if these words reach you
will you meet me again someday
on top of Lookout Mountain
_______________
From the editor--It is an honor to announce that Sandra Stefanowich is July’s Poet of the Month. She is a talented writer and photographer who has been published in a variety of venues. Readers at Whispers relate to the depth of her heartfelt poetry. Sandra has been an encouraging voice at our online journal since its onset in 2013. She regularly leaves thoughtful comments which others appreciate. Sandra has collaborated with other writers on several poems that have been featured at Whispers. It is a pleasure to present Sandra with this honor!
_______________
Thoughts on “Lookout Mountain”--Right from the onset, Sandra grabbed my attention with vivid imagery. The emotion flows through her words in a powerful and heartfelt way, a hallmark of many of Sandra’s poems. She allows the reader to experience the loneliness and loss as she shares this journey. At the end, all I can say is Wow! “Lookout Mountain” is one of those pieces that will be remembered by many.
_______________
Congratulations and thank you Sandra! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
He IS Coming, I Hear His Voice--By Charlene McCutcheon--United States
He IS Coming, I Hear His Voice
Dreams, like Jesus' parables having hidden meaning,
In all kinds of circumstances can bring understanding.
With prayer, having faith, and with Spirit instructing,
Wisdom and understanding can be peace restoring.
Like a child, promised a gift and trusting, I'm waiting,
Dreams are evidence of His pure love, in 'light' giving.
But if by that strange way, His word He is declaring.
I will not be doubting: He does not delay His coming.
Charlene McCutcheon is a 73 year old, wife, mother of seven, grandmother of thirty and great-grandmother of 14. She has just discovered her voice through poetry within the last few years. Her former ways of expression have been through the media of arts and crafts. Her desire to share herself with others for their benefit has been the motivating factor in all her endeavors. She loves life, work, play and most of all people.
Dreams, like Jesus' parables having hidden meaning,
In all kinds of circumstances can bring understanding.
With prayer, having faith, and with Spirit instructing,
Wisdom and understanding can be peace restoring.
Like a child, promised a gift and trusting, I'm waiting,
Dreams are evidence of His pure love, in 'light' giving.
But if by that strange way, His word He is declaring.
I will not be doubting: He does not delay His coming.
Charlene McCutcheon is a 73 year old, wife, mother of seven, grandmother of thirty and great-grandmother of 14. She has just discovered her voice through poetry within the last few years. Her former ways of expression have been through the media of arts and crafts. Her desire to share herself with others for their benefit has been the motivating factor in all her endeavors. She loves life, work, play and most of all people.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Overlook--By Cindy Evans--United States
Overlook
The little slight, the initiated fight,
The cross words for no reason,
The unwelcome look, a trespass took,
Words spoken out of season…
Lord, forgive them for they do not know
Quite what they say, what they do,
Let your example on the cross
Be the one that we look to...
May it be our cross to bear,
We can turn the other cheek.
May they be surprised by grace,
For You ask us to be meek,
To lay down our rights, our pride,
Without revenge or recompense.
You have told us in Your Word
It's our glory to overlook an offense!
Cindy Evans is a published poet living in the greater Atlanta area. She does receptionist work for corporate offices as well as at non-for-profits. She is happily married to her husband, Mark, and they enjoy ferris wheels, lighthouses, Christian movies and walking trails.
The little slight, the initiated fight,
The cross words for no reason,
The unwelcome look, a trespass took,
Words spoken out of season…
Lord, forgive them for they do not know
Quite what they say, what they do,
Let your example on the cross
Be the one that we look to...
May it be our cross to bear,
We can turn the other cheek.
May they be surprised by grace,
For You ask us to be meek,
To lay down our rights, our pride,
Without revenge or recompense.
You have told us in Your Word
It's our glory to overlook an offense!
Cindy Evans is a published poet living in the greater Atlanta area. She does receptionist work for corporate offices as well as at non-for-profits. She is happily married to her husband, Mark, and they enjoy ferris wheels, lighthouses, Christian movies and walking trails.
The Last Few--By David Austin--United States
The Last Few
The old, empty house just next door.
They say it’s gutted, pipes and all.
It’s boarded-up now sad ghostly,
The metamorphosis over a long period
Walking by one day I wonder at the wealth of
Roses by the front sidewalk
Life goes on
And I catch at the realization
Such a wealth of flowers,
Such beauty fronting the ugly old place
I smooth a petal with one finger, deep in thought
Oh yes, the last few will be searching
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
The old, empty house just next door.
They say it’s gutted, pipes and all.
It’s boarded-up now sad ghostly,
The metamorphosis over a long period
Walking by one day I wonder at the wealth of
Roses by the front sidewalk
Life goes on
And I catch at the realization
Such a wealth of flowers,
Such beauty fronting the ugly old place
I smooth a petal with one finger, deep in thought
Oh yes, the last few will be searching
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
A Pyramid of Light--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands
A Pyramid of Light
A
Pyramid
Of light that
Comes shining down
Spreading energy and
Love to all on the ground.
Is also formed the other way
Round, when a person prays without
Making a sound. These thoughts sent out
On a healing ray, will sprinkle to earth and on
The way, touch the loved one for whom they pray.
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s daughter, the only girl among 6 lads.
A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18. Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters. Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents. After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently. She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.
A
Pyramid
Of light that
Comes shining down
Spreading energy and
Love to all on the ground.
Is also formed the other way
Round, when a person prays without
Making a sound. These thoughts sent out
On a healing ray, will sprinkle to earth and on
The way, touch the loved one for whom they pray.
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s daughter, the only girl among 6 lads.
A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18. Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters. Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents. After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently. She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.
Trinity--By Lanette Kissel--United States
Trinity
Father--
The One who was here before the world began,
He formed the earth and then created man.
He is our gracious loving Father, all seeing and all knowing,
His loving care for His children ever showing ever growing.
Son--
The One who came to us of humble birth
To build a bridge between heaven and earth,
The One who bore the weight of our sin,
So that for hopeless man new life can begin.
The Holy Spirit--
The One who was sent to show us the way,
So that we can live more like Him every day,
The One to guide us on this journey we have begun,
So that our lives can bear witness for the Son.
Lanette Kissel lives in southern Indiana with her adopted Yorkie-Poo, Benjy. She enjoys writing Inspirational poetry, essays, articles, and some secular fiction. Her work has been published in small print publications and in online magazines. Some of her fiction has been published as e-books at Red Rose Publishing.
Father--
The One who was here before the world began,
He formed the earth and then created man.
He is our gracious loving Father, all seeing and all knowing,
His loving care for His children ever showing ever growing.
Son--
The One who came to us of humble birth
To build a bridge between heaven and earth,
The One who bore the weight of our sin,
So that for hopeless man new life can begin.
The Holy Spirit--
The One who was sent to show us the way,
So that we can live more like Him every day,
The One to guide us on this journey we have begun,
So that our lives can bear witness for the Son.
Lanette Kissel lives in southern Indiana with her adopted Yorkie-Poo, Benjy. She enjoys writing Inspirational poetry, essays, articles, and some secular fiction. Her work has been published in small print publications and in online magazines. Some of her fiction has been published as e-books at Red Rose Publishing.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Andrea Dietrich and Dave Wood--United States
All Your Ways
By Andrea Dietrich and Dave Wood
In my moonlight dream
I can't believe I'm really here
we’re dancing in a forest
You light my life when you're near
Green earth is our floor
Our steps are magic in this place
and moon beams - our disco ball
Stars all aligned - for loves embrace
while soft music is the night
Romantic whispers feel so right
You are clad in white
Now look deeper to the heart
My golden gown sweeps the ground
I was mesmerized from the start
My beautiful knight -
Princess shining in the day
Your bright eyes adore me as
I'm taken by all your ways
you twirl me among the trees
Dreamer's breath becomes love's breeze
By Andrea Dietrich and Dave Wood
In my moonlight dream
I can't believe I'm really here
we’re dancing in a forest
You light my life when you're near
Green earth is our floor
Our steps are magic in this place
and moon beams - our disco ball
Stars all aligned - for loves embrace
while soft music is the night
Romantic whispers feel so right
You are clad in white
Now look deeper to the heart
My golden gown sweeps the ground
I was mesmerized from the start
My beautiful knight -
Princess shining in the day
Your bright eyes adore me as
I'm taken by all your ways
you twirl me among the trees
Dreamer's breath becomes love's breeze
Saturday, July 12, 2014
If a Man Falls--By Richard Sponaugle--United States
If a Man Falls
I’m a decaying tree,
lost in life’s dense forest;
my foundation saturated
with dry tears,
branches bald and brittle.
My body falls soft and silent,
sure to be inhaled
before it’s seen
since light never shines
on the black, tangled woods
of my soul.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
I’m a decaying tree,
lost in life’s dense forest;
my foundation saturated
with dry tears,
branches bald and brittle.
My body falls soft and silent,
sure to be inhaled
before it’s seen
since light never shines
on the black, tangled woods
of my soul.
Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia. He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.
A Ghazal of Ghalib--Translation by Sunil Uniyal--India
A Ghazal of Ghalib (Translation by Sunil Uniyal)
Come, Beloved, no peace I'm having
I can't endure anymore this waiting
The gift of heaven in lieu of this life
Is a hangover after all drinking
Tears force me out of your party
I regret, I can't control my weeping
If the heart's without joy, there's no meaning
If the rose doesn't bloom, there's no spring
Ghalib, you've taken an oath against drinking
But nobody is sure that you'll be keeping !
Sunil Uniyal ( born 1953-) is a poet and translator based in New Delhi, India. He has been writing haiku and poems for over thirty years and many of these have appeared in e-journals like Muse India, Kritya, AHA Poetry, Poetica Magazine, Sketch Book, Notes From the Gean, A Hundred Gourds and Haiku Dreaming Australia. His work in translation includes, The Target is Behind the Sky -Fifty Poems of Kabir, brought out by the Low Price Publications, Delhi in February 2012.
Come, Beloved, no peace I'm having
I can't endure anymore this waiting
The gift of heaven in lieu of this life
Is a hangover after all drinking
Tears force me out of your party
I regret, I can't control my weeping
If the heart's without joy, there's no meaning
If the rose doesn't bloom, there's no spring
Ghalib, you've taken an oath against drinking
But nobody is sure that you'll be keeping !
Sunil Uniyal ( born 1953-) is a poet and translator based in New Delhi, India. He has been writing haiku and poems for over thirty years and many of these have appeared in e-journals like Muse India, Kritya, AHA Poetry, Poetica Magazine, Sketch Book, Notes From the Gean, A Hundred Gourds and Haiku Dreaming Australia. His work in translation includes, The Target is Behind the Sky -Fifty Poems of Kabir, brought out by the Low Price Publications, Delhi in February 2012.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Midsummer Breezes--By Beverly Reedy--United States
Midsummer Breezes
Morning breezes blow through
the open window as I watch
the flight of white winged
butterflies dancing among
patches of tall lilac daises,
gathering their sweet nectar
as the sounds of nature echo
in the midsummer breezes
with the songs of the birds,
uniting in cords of harmony.
Day with its simple mysteries
will reveal the joys of being.
Beverly Reedy is an assistant editor and poetess from Washington State. Her first book of poetry called Treasures of a Poet Volume 1 was published by Creative Memories in 2006. She was published in anthology series from 1988 to 2007. Her work has appeared in American Poets Society, League of American Poets, Famous Poets Society, Poets Word Wide, and Passion for Poetry. She is a member of Poets For Integrity and The Writers and Poetry Alliance.
Morning breezes blow through
the open window as I watch
the flight of white winged
butterflies dancing among
patches of tall lilac daises,
gathering their sweet nectar
as the sounds of nature echo
in the midsummer breezes
with the songs of the birds,
uniting in cords of harmony.
Day with its simple mysteries
will reveal the joys of being.
Beverly Reedy is an assistant editor and poetess from Washington State. Her first book of poetry called Treasures of a Poet Volume 1 was published by Creative Memories in 2006. She was published in anthology series from 1988 to 2007. Her work has appeared in American Poets Society, League of American Poets, Famous Poets Society, Poets Word Wide, and Passion for Poetry. She is a member of Poets For Integrity and The Writers and Poetry Alliance.
Haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States
no matter
how bedeviled I am
her angelic face
_______________
how that wet stone glistens her eye
_______________
in the can
of beans what
she didn’t spill
_______________
3,000 miles away from mom's lost mind
_______________
eating a mango
her retirement
takes shape
_______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. He is currently editing another anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, due to be released in 2014.
how bedeviled I am
her angelic face
_______________
how that wet stone glistens her eye
_______________
in the can
of beans what
she didn’t spill
_______________
3,000 miles away from mom's lost mind
_______________
eating a mango
her retirement
takes shape
_______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. He is currently editing another anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, due to be released in 2014.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Six Word Story--By Elaine George--Canada
Six Word Story
LOST POET - FOUND - BETWEEN THE LINES.
~~~~~
Born in New Brunswick, Elaine George spent the early years of her life living in Lorneville (a small fishing village along the Bay of Funday) still inhabited by many of her family members. Much of her writing is inspired by the memories of that place and those wonderful people. She has published two volumes of poetry and is currently writing a novel entitled Out of the Darkness. Many of her poems and short stories have appeared in magazines in both Canada and the United States. Currently she lives with her husband in Wainfleet, Ontario.
LOST POET - FOUND - BETWEEN THE LINES.
~~~~~
Born in New Brunswick, Elaine George spent the early years of her life living in Lorneville (a small fishing village along the Bay of Funday) still inhabited by many of her family members. Much of her writing is inspired by the memories of that place and those wonderful people. She has published two volumes of poetry and is currently writing a novel entitled Out of the Darkness. Many of her poems and short stories have appeared in magazines in both Canada and the United States. Currently she lives with her husband in Wainfleet, Ontario.
Catching Magic--By Marcus Omer--United States
Catching Magic
Lily-white days, the Summer’s filled,
the year was forty-one.
In creeks, in brooks, in meadows clean,
the cords of youth were spun.
Those lazy days, those barefoot days,
we played on dusty roads.
In tall green grass ‘neath night-time sky,
we searched the mystic code.
When shooting stars by chance would fly
with temping tails of light,
we caught them in an old fruit jar
and rode them out of sight.
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
Lily-white days, the Summer’s filled,
the year was forty-one.
In creeks, in brooks, in meadows clean,
the cords of youth were spun.
Those lazy days, those barefoot days,
we played on dusty roads.
In tall green grass ‘neath night-time sky,
we searched the mystic code.
When shooting stars by chance would fly
with temping tails of light,
we caught them in an old fruit jar
and rode them out of sight.
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Carolyn Devonshire--United States and Terry O’Leary--France
Weighing in on Summer
by Carolyn Devonshire and Terry O’Leary
Colorful flowers and spaghetti straps
And my flabby arms from seams overlap
But summer clothes still beckon
It’s diet time, I reckon
Girdle needed, my tummy to entrap
With a look in the mirror I see
I'm as round as a bumble-ing bee
Having so much on show
(Yes, wherever I go)
A tri-kini I'll need at the sea
Seeking new ways for calories to burn
To wear a swimsuit, I’ll let famine churn
Want to look provocative
Avoid stares accusative
Hunger overwhelms, for ice cream I yearn
To reduce my excess was the quest
So it's needless to say I was stressed
Eating soup made of prunes
Through the pale afternoons…
Well then… now you can guess all the rest
But in order to taper and trim
Will require I burn at the gym
So I think that I'll start
With a blueberry tart
Then I'll have much more vigor and vim
Signed up for Biggest Loser on TV
So Jillian Michaels could torture me
Pushing boulders up steep hills
To accentuate the frills
Of small sundresses designed for Twiggy
Though some people may say that I'm stout,
Do they know what they're talking about?
In all matters of size,
The beholder's blue eyes
Discern only the parts hanging out
Jillian cracked the whip with no remorse
I dragged tired bones through the exercise course
Now slim, I sleep peacefully
Blessed with deep serenity
While friends say, “She makes a beautiful corpse.”
by Carolyn Devonshire and Terry O’Leary
Colorful flowers and spaghetti straps
And my flabby arms from seams overlap
But summer clothes still beckon
It’s diet time, I reckon
Girdle needed, my tummy to entrap
With a look in the mirror I see
I'm as round as a bumble-ing bee
Having so much on show
(Yes, wherever I go)
A tri-kini I'll need at the sea
Seeking new ways for calories to burn
To wear a swimsuit, I’ll let famine churn
Want to look provocative
Avoid stares accusative
Hunger overwhelms, for ice cream I yearn
To reduce my excess was the quest
So it's needless to say I was stressed
Eating soup made of prunes
Through the pale afternoons…
Well then… now you can guess all the rest
But in order to taper and trim
Will require I burn at the gym
So I think that I'll start
With a blueberry tart
Then I'll have much more vigor and vim
Signed up for Biggest Loser on TV
So Jillian Michaels could torture me
Pushing boulders up steep hills
To accentuate the frills
Of small sundresses designed for Twiggy
Though some people may say that I'm stout,
Do they know what they're talking about?
In all matters of size,
The beholder's blue eyes
Discern only the parts hanging out
Jillian cracked the whip with no remorse
I dragged tired bones through the exercise course
Now slim, I sleep peacefully
Blessed with deep serenity
While friends say, “She makes a beautiful corpse.”
To Marion: In Memoriam--By Joann Grisetti--United States
To Marion: In Memoriam
With body frail, yet eager mind
She views the far off hill once climbed
Beyond her reach, both earth and time,
She thinks of when
God will come for her.
She has lived her life’s full measure
Partaken of its joy and pleasure
Her body’s still, calm, at leisure
She senses soon
God will come for her.
Resting far from the daily streets
Her soul has found an easy peace
Her lips in holy prayer do meet
She knows Him now
God has come for her.
I see her laid upon her bier
Where mercy reigns, her fate is clear
No prophet I, nor sage, nor seer,
And yet I know
God has come for her.
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
With body frail, yet eager mind
She views the far off hill once climbed
Beyond her reach, both earth and time,
She thinks of when
God will come for her.
She has lived her life’s full measure
Partaken of its joy and pleasure
Her body’s still, calm, at leisure
She senses soon
God will come for her.
Resting far from the daily streets
Her soul has found an easy peace
Her lips in holy prayer do meet
She knows Him now
God has come for her.
I see her laid upon her bier
Where mercy reigns, her fate is clear
No prophet I, nor sage, nor seer,
And yet I know
God has come for her.
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Waiting for Words--By Elizabeth Howard--United States
Waiting for Words
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer
Psalm 45:1
I search dictionary and thesaurus for
the crucial words to tell of a Savior
who gathers little children in His arms,
fractious children who’ve played in mud,
harrowed faces stained with sour grapes,
eyes greedy for worldly manna
tongues sowing tares of slander.
My pen tarries, waiting for words.
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer
Psalm 45:1
I search dictionary and thesaurus for
the crucial words to tell of a Savior
who gathers little children in His arms,
fractious children who’ve played in mud,
harrowed faces stained with sour grapes,
eyes greedy for worldly manna
tongues sowing tares of slander.
My pen tarries, waiting for words.
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.
With Love--By Peter Dome--United Kingdom
With Love
Swirling patterns of iridescent colours
Of yellow red green and blue
Illuminated light
Of every shade and hue.
A kaleidoscope toy
Bringing wonder and excitement
To a young child's eyes
A present from Grandma and Granddad
One happy content child
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
Swirling patterns of iridescent colours
Of yellow red green and blue
Illuminated light
Of every shade and hue.
A kaleidoscope toy
Bringing wonder and excitement
To a young child's eyes
A present from Grandma and Granddad
One happy content child
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
Monday, July 7, 2014
A Two-Faced Son-Of-A-Gun--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States
A Two-Faced Son-Of-A-Gun
Even Honest Abe Lincoln admitted himself that he wasn't all that pretty,
But you'll be hard-pressed to find a president who was more witty!
During debates, Stephen Douglas called him a two-faced son-of-a-gun.
Lincoln replied, "If I had another face, do you think I would wear this one?"
Robert L. Hinshaw served 30 years in the Air Force retiring in 1978 in the grade of Chief Master Sergeant. He began writing poetry in 2002 at age 72 and has composed over 1100 poems.
Even Honest Abe Lincoln admitted himself that he wasn't all that pretty,
But you'll be hard-pressed to find a president who was more witty!
During debates, Stephen Douglas called him a two-faced son-of-a-gun.
Lincoln replied, "If I had another face, do you think I would wear this one?"
Robert L. Hinshaw served 30 years in the Air Force retiring in 1978 in the grade of Chief Master Sergeant. He began writing poetry in 2002 at age 72 and has composed over 1100 poems.
Flowers Galore--By Jean Calkins--United States
Flowers Galore
White lilies standing six feet tall;
roses, doubled, pink, enthrall;
morning glories, trellis high;
chameleon plants that do not lie,
but stand upright, with tiny blooms;
hydrangeas. The warm wind blows tunes
through plastic flowers as they spin,
pause awhile, begin again.
Marigolds march by the walk;
the budding mums can almost talk.
The rhododendron flowers are gone;
peonies stretch across the lawn,
their blossoms but a memory,
like trilliums, once heavenly.
The garden weaves around the house
in narrow beds made by my spouse,
while I succumb to summer heat
and wait for autumn. What a treat!
Jean, at 80, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at jcalkins01@charter.net.
White lilies standing six feet tall;
roses, doubled, pink, enthrall;
morning glories, trellis high;
chameleon plants that do not lie,
but stand upright, with tiny blooms;
hydrangeas. The warm wind blows tunes
through plastic flowers as they spin,
pause awhile, begin again.
Marigolds march by the walk;
the budding mums can almost talk.
The rhododendron flowers are gone;
peonies stretch across the lawn,
their blossoms but a memory,
like trilliums, once heavenly.
The garden weaves around the house
in narrow beds made by my spouse,
while I succumb to summer heat
and wait for autumn. What a treat!
Jean, at 80, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at jcalkins01@charter.net.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Malfunctioning--By Anna-Marie Docherty--Wales
Malfunctioning
Once more without sleep
all dreams exhausted
Neurotransmitters on high alert
rekindling furious flames
that lap hungrily through mid-back to feet
Like a chippy chiseling wood on the lathe
I splinter and crack – screaming for regression
Just as a computer malfunctioning
I await time for reboot of my system
brief medical intervention –
some respite peace and solace
that in the whole of life
taken as one performance of the arts
it is but a musical interlude
short-lived in high anticipation of entr’acte
Author’s note--
chippy - a carpenter
entr'acte - between the acts
Anna-Marie Docherty lives in Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK and is often inspired by nature and the world around her. Having been writing poetry now for 4 - 5 years, her works have developed in structure and form as well as using free verse in her writing as she walks this endless art form and creativity in her thirst to further learn. Letting the pen and the muse dictate topic and form both humour, religion, nature or the serious subject might be touched upon therefore keeping the writing fresh and easy to read by those who follow. Writing both as given name above and pen name anaisnais through the net, examples of poems can be found both in Snippets, an anthology of short verse by various international poets, compiled by Karen O'Leary and Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson; also Pink Panther magazine, an anthology written by several poets and artists on feminist issues in our environment and various poems on the internet for taster.
Once more without sleep
all dreams exhausted
Neurotransmitters on high alert
rekindling furious flames
that lap hungrily through mid-back to feet
Like a chippy chiseling wood on the lathe
I splinter and crack – screaming for regression
Just as a computer malfunctioning
I await time for reboot of my system
brief medical intervention –
some respite peace and solace
that in the whole of life
taken as one performance of the arts
it is but a musical interlude
short-lived in high anticipation of entr’acte
Author’s note--
chippy - a carpenter
entr'acte - between the acts
Anna-Marie Docherty lives in Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK and is often inspired by nature and the world around her. Having been writing poetry now for 4 - 5 years, her works have developed in structure and form as well as using free verse in her writing as she walks this endless art form and creativity in her thirst to further learn. Letting the pen and the muse dictate topic and form both humour, religion, nature or the serious subject might be touched upon therefore keeping the writing fresh and easy to read by those who follow. Writing both as given name above and pen name anaisnais through the net, examples of poems can be found both in Snippets, an anthology of short verse by various international poets, compiled by Karen O'Leary and Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson; also Pink Panther magazine, an anthology written by several poets and artists on feminist issues in our environment and various poems on the internet for taster.
God’s Timing--By Anne R. C. Neale--United States
God’s Timing
God plans for the timing of the blooming of flowers,
And tree buds and tree blossoms, too, which are great you see.
There's never a time that something does not bloom.
God thinks the best things for you and me.
God has the leaves on the trees mature full force
To hide bird nests with nestlings, baby birds are in them.
March winds make the tree limbs and branches safe for bird nests that's true.
April showers help seeds and buds mature, God knows what is best. Amen.
God's timing is perfect, He thinks of you all the time.
We take it for granted which is not a good thing.
Be sure to look at each season as God "times", something to come.
He is our God who" times" every thing, the Almighty King.
Anne R. C. Neale is 85 years old. She taught outdoor education for 20 years. Anne still works at school as crossing guard. She has sent six free poems daily to 165 people for the past 18 years. She been writing poems since the age of 8 and has all of them in albums. She resides in New Jersey .
God plans for the timing of the blooming of flowers,
And tree buds and tree blossoms, too, which are great you see.
There's never a time that something does not bloom.
God thinks the best things for you and me.
God has the leaves on the trees mature full force
To hide bird nests with nestlings, baby birds are in them.
March winds make the tree limbs and branches safe for bird nests that's true.
April showers help seeds and buds mature, God knows what is best. Amen.
God's timing is perfect, He thinks of you all the time.
We take it for granted which is not a good thing.
Be sure to look at each season as God "times", something to come.
He is our God who" times" every thing, the Almighty King.
Anne R. C. Neale is 85 years old. She taught outdoor education for 20 years. Anne still works at school as crossing guard. She has sent six free poems daily to 165 people for the past 18 years. She been writing poems since the age of 8 and has all of them in albums. She resides in New Jersey .
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Builder Blues--By Jack Horne--England
Builder Blues
The builders are driving me crazy,
Although they are nice and not lazy,
But the progress is slow
And I want them to go -
Completion dates seem pretty hazy.
They chatter non stop all the day;
I’m trying to keep out the way,
As the banter is fun,
But the work isn’t done:
If only they had less to say.
I listen and stifle a sigh,
And wish it was time to say, ‘Bye’,
But I hate to offend,
And I know it must end…
…Or will they be here ’til I die?
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
The builders are driving me crazy,
Although they are nice and not lazy,
But the progress is slow
And I want them to go -
Completion dates seem pretty hazy.
They chatter non stop all the day;
I’m trying to keep out the way,
As the banter is fun,
But the work isn’t done:
If only they had less to say.
I listen and stifle a sigh,
And wish it was time to say, ‘Bye’,
But I hate to offend,
And I know it must end…
…Or will they be here ’til I die?
Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.
Job--By Tim Ryerson--United States
Job
And God answered Job from a howling hurricane
"Who is he who dares to cry and complain?
Who is he who dares to stray from his path?
Who questions and doubts me? Who kindles my wrath?
Stand now before me, I demand it of thee
Do you see in my future? Do you know what will be?
Your mind is too tiny to comprehend why!"
Job said, "My mouth will be shut, I cannot reply."
"I have spoken of things I do not understand
Things far too wonderful for one mortal man
Now mine eyes see the wonder of thy glorious light
Helpless before thee; I give up the fight
And fall on my knees as I know that I must
Face down; I repent in ashes and dust."
Tim Ryerson is a published poet from Ponchatoula, Louisiana who retired from the printing business in 2011. He began writing in the 80’s but did not take it seriously until 2001 after the untimely death of his then 21 year old son. He does not have a ‘signature' but prefers writing different forms of poetry. Many of his poems use southern slang and Cajun dialect. He also enjoys writing humorous poems, especially limericks and senryu and was among the winners in the latest Humor Press writing contest with his entry “Emergency Rooms Just KILL me.”
And God answered Job from a howling hurricane
"Who is he who dares to cry and complain?
Who is he who dares to stray from his path?
Who questions and doubts me? Who kindles my wrath?
Stand now before me, I demand it of thee
Do you see in my future? Do you know what will be?
Your mind is too tiny to comprehend why!"
Job said, "My mouth will be shut, I cannot reply."
"I have spoken of things I do not understand
Things far too wonderful for one mortal man
Now mine eyes see the wonder of thy glorious light
Helpless before thee; I give up the fight
And fall on my knees as I know that I must
Face down; I repent in ashes and dust."
Tim Ryerson is a published poet from Ponchatoula, Louisiana who retired from the printing business in 2011. He began writing in the 80’s but did not take it seriously until 2001 after the untimely death of his then 21 year old son. He does not have a ‘signature' but prefers writing different forms of poetry. Many of his poems use southern slang and Cajun dialect. He also enjoys writing humorous poems, especially limericks and senryu and was among the winners in the latest Humor Press writing contest with his entry “Emergency Rooms Just KILL me.”
Friday, July 4, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sheri Stanley and Dena M. Ferrari--United States
(In Unique Triplets)
By Sheri Stanley and Dena M. Ferrari
Magnificent moon so mysterious
Quite mystifying
Electrifying
Mystic light reflects its powers on me
Tides sweeping ebbing
Orb of night setting
Alluring moon makes me delirious
My heart is racing
Sweet dreams are tracing
Moonbeams shine on me in the quiet night
Waves crashing the shore
Blessings I implore
Penetrate my dreams I become inspired
To a writer’s fire
Instill the desire
The moon and I combine our energies
Our thoughts intertwined
Our words are combined
Whispers of Love--By Leokadia Durmaj--Australia
Whispers of Love
Within the bounds of love
There is joy and sadness there,
Captured in the stars above
An Angel’s hands are joined in prayer.
Tears that fall from heaven
In a veil of mist divine,
They are the sacred tears of pain
Of a love that still remains.
Two gentle spirits
Once joined together
Beautiful and pure,
Lost in memories forever
Of a time that is no more.
Now their journeys of love is over
All the sorrow is left behind.
Only whispers do remain
Within the echo of the mind!
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
Within the bounds of love
There is joy and sadness there,
Captured in the stars above
An Angel’s hands are joined in prayer.
Tears that fall from heaven
In a veil of mist divine,
They are the sacred tears of pain
Of a love that still remains.
Two gentle spirits
Once joined together
Beautiful and pure,
Lost in memories forever
Of a time that is no more.
Now their journeys of love is over
All the sorrow is left behind.
Only whispers do remain
Within the echo of the mind!
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
Growth--By Cristine A. Gruber--United States
Growth
For Victoria
Your hand rests
upon your belly, protective,
a shielding gesture all mothers recognize.
Shaking your head
at the offered beverage,
you turn instead to a bottle of water.
Moving slowly among the crowd,
you glide with care and grace, serene,
no fear of jostling the precious cargo you carry.
Smile unending,
your peace and joy are tangible
as you move from one guest to the next,
thinking you have kept your secret safe,
presuming no one knows the truth
that has yet to be spoken aloud,
but with each brush of your hand
across your midsection,
I see your smile grow.
One can only assume,
in another seven months or so,
you’ll be grinning from ear to ear.
* First published in Coffee-Ground Breakfast / March 2014
Cristine A. Gruber, a Southern California native, is a registered caregiver and a devout vegan. Her poetry reflects her view of the human condition in all its complexity and beauty. Her work has been featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, Writers’ Journal, Foliate Oak, Full of Crow, Leaves of Ink, The Old Red Kimono, The Penwood Review, Poetry Now, The Poet’s Haven, and The Tule Review. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, was released by Infinity Publishing and is available from Amazon.com.
For Victoria
Your hand rests
upon your belly, protective,
a shielding gesture all mothers recognize.
Shaking your head
at the offered beverage,
you turn instead to a bottle of water.
Moving slowly among the crowd,
you glide with care and grace, serene,
no fear of jostling the precious cargo you carry.
Smile unending,
your peace and joy are tangible
as you move from one guest to the next,
thinking you have kept your secret safe,
presuming no one knows the truth
that has yet to be spoken aloud,
but with each brush of your hand
across your midsection,
I see your smile grow.
One can only assume,
in another seven months or so,
you’ll be grinning from ear to ear.
* First published in Coffee-Ground Breakfast / March 2014
Cristine A. Gruber, a Southern California native, is a registered caregiver and a devout vegan. Her poetry reflects her view of the human condition in all its complexity and beauty. Her work has been featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, Writers’ Journal, Foliate Oak, Full of Crow, Leaves of Ink, The Old Red Kimono, The Penwood Review, Poetry Now, The Poet’s Haven, and The Tule Review. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, was released by Infinity Publishing and is available from Amazon.com.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Maya Angelou (1928 - 2014)--By Joe Flach--United States
Maya Angelou (1928 - 2014)
Well known poets are few and far between;
Poets with fame while still living, are hardly ever seen.
So, in that rare occasion, when such a genius comes along,
we bask in her glory and bathe in the beauty of her song.
And, when that pen is laid down, to write poetry nevermore,
We feel a void in our soul where her poetry we once wore.
But the words she leaves behind are there to always comfort you,
And we will cherish them forever, in memory of Maya Angelou.
Joe Flach is an amateur poet living in Gig Harbor, WA. Joe has been writing poetry, short stories and song lyrics his entire life but has only recently found the courage to share some of his work with others through internet websites and his own Poetry Facebook Page – “Poems, Lyrics and Stuff by an Average Joe”. As a professional consultant working in the fields of crisis management and disaster recovery, Joe uses has writing as a form of stress release and an opportunity to expand his horizons. Joe is a father of four children who he often relies on as a source for inspiration.
Well known poets are few and far between;
Poets with fame while still living, are hardly ever seen.
So, in that rare occasion, when such a genius comes along,
we bask in her glory and bathe in the beauty of her song.
And, when that pen is laid down, to write poetry nevermore,
We feel a void in our soul where her poetry we once wore.
But the words she leaves behind are there to always comfort you,
And we will cherish them forever, in memory of Maya Angelou.
Joe Flach is an amateur poet living in Gig Harbor, WA. Joe has been writing poetry, short stories and song lyrics his entire life but has only recently found the courage to share some of his work with others through internet websites and his own Poetry Facebook Page – “Poems, Lyrics and Stuff by an Average Joe”. As a professional consultant working in the fields of crisis management and disaster recovery, Joe uses has writing as a form of stress release and an opportunity to expand his horizons. Joe is a father of four children who he often relies on as a source for inspiration.
Moments in Time--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada
Moments in Time
When I once was loved and was someone's child
and time passed
Were you one of the many walking past in denial?
I had hopes and dreams.
When you looked into my tired, empty eyes
and time waited
Did you see the aching hunger there to be alive?
I wanted to feel love not pain.
When I reached out my worn hands to you
and time stopped
Did you try to reach back or leave it up to fate to do?
I survive but I'm dying.
When I am a past memory that fades into the gray
and when your moment in time has come
Will you remember? Did you see me when you turned away?
That I cried for you.
Born in Toronto, Ontario, Sandra is a self taught writer. She has been writing off and on since an early age. Most of her writing revolves around what she sees in everyday life, nature and her concerns about mankind. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, animals and photography.
When I once was loved and was someone's child
and time passed
Were you one of the many walking past in denial?
I had hopes and dreams.
When you looked into my tired, empty eyes
and time waited
Did you see the aching hunger there to be alive?
I wanted to feel love not pain.
When I reached out my worn hands to you
and time stopped
Did you try to reach back or leave it up to fate to do?
I survive but I'm dying.
When I am a past memory that fades into the gray
and when your moment in time has come
Will you remember? Did you see me when you turned away?
That I cried for you.
Born in Toronto, Ontario, Sandra is a self taught writer. She has been writing off and on since an early age. Most of her writing revolves around what she sees in everyday life, nature and her concerns about mankind. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, animals and photography.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Madoff--By Sheri Stanley--United States
Madoff
His winning smile enticed the elite
Rubbing elbows was never so sweet
One hand in your pocket
The other to hock it
All that schmoozing came just like a treat
Ol’ Madoff, he made off with the cash
So comfy never needed to dash
He bought all this and that
Live in vets for his cat
Sitting high on his throne with your stash
Now they’re askin’, say, what’s in a name?
One that points directly to the blame
Never had it so good
Robbing one’s neighborhood
Madoff, king of the sham, what a shame!
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family. Her website is www.poetryandbeyond.net
His winning smile enticed the elite
Rubbing elbows was never so sweet
One hand in your pocket
The other to hock it
All that schmoozing came just like a treat
Ol’ Madoff, he made off with the cash
So comfy never needed to dash
He bought all this and that
Live in vets for his cat
Sitting high on his throne with your stash
Now they’re askin’, say, what’s in a name?
One that points directly to the blame
Never had it so good
Robbing one’s neighborhood
Madoff, king of the sham, what a shame!
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family. Her website is www.poetryandbeyond.net
Chasing the Sun--By Carolyn Devonshire--United States
Chasing the Sun
Like Icarus I spread my wings
To rise on rainbows; my heart sings
The magic of this sunset grows
From amber, lilac, then to rose
As I approach the sun, I vow
To see the colors clearer now
With heavens kissed by gold and pink
The sun hangs low, begins to sink
The hues that caught my naïve eye
All start to pale, though fast I fly
While brighter colors fade from view
Below the Earth grows darker too
For who am I to catch the sun
Our race is done; the sun has won
A Florida writer, Carolyn enjoys writing humor but also receives inspiration from nature and people who touch her life. She has enjoyed co-writing with other poets and finds that both writers grow when they share their thoughts. She has spent most of her life as a reporter and a writer for magazines.
Like Icarus I spread my wings
To rise on rainbows; my heart sings
The magic of this sunset grows
From amber, lilac, then to rose
As I approach the sun, I vow
To see the colors clearer now
With heavens kissed by gold and pink
The sun hangs low, begins to sink
The hues that caught my naïve eye
All start to pale, though fast I fly
While brighter colors fade from view
Below the Earth grows darker too
For who am I to catch the sun
Our race is done; the sun has won
A Florida writer, Carolyn enjoys writing humor but also receives inspiration from nature and people who touch her life. She has enjoyed co-writing with other poets and finds that both writers grow when they share their thoughts. She has spent most of her life as a reporter and a writer for magazines.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Arikara Born--By James Fraser--Scotland
Arikara Born
I, like many others, have lived in my dreams
In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams
Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed
If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed
Born from my mother of Arikara descent
My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment
My growing up was no different than the others around
For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround
Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life
Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife
But it's what my father taught me every single day
To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display
Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands
Every year more learned, growing to understand
From a boy to a man, becoming a warrior through my years
Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears
But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls
There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals
I like many others, to live and eventually fall
Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall'
James Andrew Fraser resides in Inverness, the Capital of the Highlands, Bonnie Scotland. He is married with four lovely children. Andrew, Steven, Rebekah and Liam. James has been writing poetry for about four years. He is a member of Poetry Soup where many poets have allowed his work to prosper, especially Carolyn Devonshire who has guided and inspired him. His hobbies apart from poetry are music, art and football. You can read more of his poetry at his website www.thehighlanderspoems.com
I, like many others, have lived in my dreams
In this world where I lived amongst forests and streams
Where the Great Plains stretched and our rivers flowed
If you could see through my eyes, how my tribe glowed
Born from my mother of Arikara descent
My father a Sioux warrior, his stature, augment
My growing up was no different than the others around
For the learnings that grew from our ancestors surround
Hunting and fishing, being told of the dangers in life
Cultural indifferences, to fearing tribal strife
But it's what my father taught me every single day
To learn from our lands for through the years they'd display
Tracking, seeking, searching, living from our lands
Every year more learned, growing to understand
From a boy to a man, becoming a warrior through my years
Protecting what was ours, allaying modern fears
But the changes that we faced, suffocated our souls
There was only ever one outcome, other man's goals
I like many others, to live and eventually fall
Born from Arikara, Sioux, my name was 'Standing Tall'
James Andrew Fraser resides in Inverness, the Capital of the Highlands, Bonnie Scotland. He is married with four lovely children. Andrew, Steven, Rebekah and Liam. James has been writing poetry for about four years. He is a member of Poetry Soup where many poets have allowed his work to prosper, especially Carolyn Devonshire who has guided and inspired him. His hobbies apart from poetry are music, art and football. You can read more of his poetry at his website www.thehighlanderspoems.com
The Bashful Neighbour--By John Polselli--United States
The Bashful Neighbour
Let’s roam the field of lavender
And meet the flower fairy who
Abides. This tiny messenger
I’ve often seen while looking through
My window, yet when I pursue
In a flash she disappears
And through the purple petals peers.
Many times I’ve heard her singing
Sweet, a haunting melody
In the moon glow, gaily winging
As though she’ll have my company
Providing I remain discreet--
For otherwise a sure retreat.
But now I see her by the pool;
She stares at her reflection there.
So softly we must tread, yet, fool
I am to think we shall not scare
Away this elemental fair.
Still, let us try to win her trust--
Our bashful neighbour of August.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.
Let’s roam the field of lavender
And meet the flower fairy who
Abides. This tiny messenger
I’ve often seen while looking through
My window, yet when I pursue
In a flash she disappears
And through the purple petals peers.
Many times I’ve heard her singing
Sweet, a haunting melody
In the moon glow, gaily winging
As though she’ll have my company
Providing I remain discreet--
For otherwise a sure retreat.
But now I see her by the pool;
She stares at her reflection there.
So softly we must tread, yet, fool
I am to think we shall not scare
Away this elemental fair.
Still, let us try to win her trust--
Our bashful neighbour of August.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.
JULY ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN JUNE
Ronald Grognet--United States
Kelly Deschler--United States
Paul Callus--Malta
James Fraser--Scotland
Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada
Robert Lindley--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, Malta, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, 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 August column by July 25
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Zona Lawrence has a website called jazopublications.com to help writers with hints and tips to be a better reader of his/’her work. Please come to visit, learn and comment.
Rita Odeh released a new book of haiku called Buds of Dream. More information regarding the book is available at: http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/9865804093
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
Shloka Shankar has a poetry page on Facebook called 'Shloka Shankar: a rasika's musings'. To read more of her poems, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shloka-Shankar-a-rasikas-musings/745965042120215?ref_type=bookmark
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
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
David Fox is seeking family-friendly poems for his magazine, The Poet's Art. Rates for the publication are $5 an issue or $20 for a 4 issue subscription. Checks should be made to cash. Foreign contributors should pay $10 by international money order or American cash only. Send submissions and money for subscriptions to David Fox,171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia, NY 11749 USA.
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
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
Ronald Grognet--United States
Kelly Deschler--United States
Paul Callus--Malta
James Fraser--Scotland
Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada
Robert Lindley--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, Malta, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, 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 August column by July 25
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Zona Lawrence has a website called jazopublications.com to help writers with hints and tips to be a better reader of his/’her work. Please come to visit, learn and comment.
Rita Odeh released a new book of haiku called Buds of Dream. More information regarding the book is available at: http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/9865804093
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
Shloka Shankar has a poetry page on Facebook called 'Shloka Shankar: a rasika's musings'. To read more of her poems, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shloka-Shankar-a-rasikas-musings/745965042120215?ref_type=bookmark
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
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
David Fox is seeking family-friendly poems for his magazine, The Poet's Art. Rates for the publication are $5 an issue or $20 for a 4 issue subscription. Checks should be made to cash. Foreign contributors should pay $10 by international money order or American cash only. Send submissions and money for subscriptions to David Fox,171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia, NY 11749 USA.
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
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)