Submission Guidelines

Thank you for considering Whispers for a place to share your writing.  The guidelines follow:

1.  Submissions of unpublished and previously published work are acceptable.  Please do not send quotes from others unless they are in the context of the piece submitted and that the original author is given credit.  It is up to the author to obtain permission if needed for reprints.  By submitting to Whispers, the writer is assuring that the work is his or her own.  Whispers reserves the right to delete any work that has been copied from another writer without credit or authorization.

2.  Send one of the three following:

    ---1 poem 20 lines or less

    ---up to 5 haiku/senryu (please make sure to clearly identify that separate poems are being submitted)

    ---up to 3 tanka (see above)

    ---for people that are not poets, 1 short paragraph of encouragement will be considered

Writers are eligible for publication every other month.

3.  You may include a bio of 4-5 lines written in third person style.  See “Living Wings” published January 15, 2013 for an example.  A bio is not necessary for publication.

4.  No profanity, erotica, violence or other derogatory writing will be accepted.

5.  Whispers reserves the right to select poetry based on the goal stated at the end of the guidelines.

6.  Spiritual poetry is welcomed but the editor would like to have a variety of pieces that will uplift and inspire readers.  Humor is appreciated.

7.  Children’s poetry is appreciated.  Parent permission is required.  Please email gksm@cableone.net before sending.

8.  Poetry will be published along the left margin for consistency.  Please keep that in mind when submitting.

9.  Preferred method of submission is to send poetry as a works document or in the body of an email with your name and country.  Please email your submission to Karen O’Leary at gksm@cableone.net  If you would rather submit by snail mail, please email Karen for her address.  You may email her with any questions you may have.

10.  I hope you also participate by commenting on others’ writing. 

In this challenging time for many, it is the hope that Whispers will connect people in a way that is supportive, encouraging and inspiring to others.  Thank you for considering being a part of this community.

Editor's Thoughts/A Writer's Soul--By Karen O'Leary

Dear Readers,

It is a pleasure to take a few moments to share some time with you each month.  There have been several new contributors in recent months so I thought I would share some information about Whispers opportunities. 

Individual Poems--Contributors are eligible for publication every other month.  The Submission Guidelines are published at the end of each month for further details.

Collaborative Poems--Writers are eligible to share a collaborative poem once a month.  Guidelines were published on 10/29/2013.  One of the poets must be a current contributor.

Ad Column--This is a free opportunity to any current contributor.  Ads can include publication opportunities, contests, book publication, and other honors.  Guidelines were published on 4/11/2013.

Activity Opportunities--I send out information regarding the month’s activity on the 5th of each month.  Please feel free to share this opportunity with friends.  Writers do not have to be current contributors to participate. 

Whispers would also like to publish more children’s writing.  If you know of any young writers that would be interested, please let them know about our online journal.  It is important in keeping creative writing alive in the years to come to support our young writers in their journeys.  Parental permission is needed.

A Writer’s Soul

thoughts
pour
through life…
the saved scraps
glued into poems
I hope will make a difference

Thank you for all your do for our online journal/poetry community.  Your ongoing support is greatly appreciated.  May your words make a difference.

Blessings,

Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor

Haiku--By Arvinder Kaur--India

tree swing -
in and out of sunshine
my outstretched toes
_______________

smoke drifts
from the incense stick-
my wayward thoughts
_______________

vacant desk...
the expanse of sunlight
uninterrupted
_______________

waterfall...
a distant echo
of her anklets
_______________

Note--Previously published at A Hundred Gourds
_______________

Arvinder Kaur is an Associate professor in English and Media Studies. She writes haiku both in Punjabi as well as English. She has four books to her credit which include poetry, a work of translation and her first collection of punjabi haiku, Nimolian. Her work has been published in several haiku journals and anthologies. She lives in Chandigarh with her family.

She was a Warm Summer--By Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada

She was a Warm Summer

I remember her.....
   many a dreamy summer ago;
   as a flower which blooms
      in beauty all the more each day;
No hues of her could I create
   such wondrous ways
    walking with me
       in some invisible world.....
       with she,
       on some ancient beach ----
       some carpet to infinity;
A sphere so endless ----
       it barely began.....
       as a kiss most sweet,
       it must leave to dull-time,
       as a rose which wilts away to tears.....
But I kissed her again.....
       'neath a lunar lamp,
       a soft tide to tickle our toes,
       beside beauty which blooms all the more each day...... 

Keith O. J. Hunt is a Classic-Romantic poet who generally prefers the older styles which he finds the greatest way to express his thoughts. He loves people, nature, spirituality and all things beautiful. Keith lives in Ottawa, Canada and has been writing poetry for 15 yrs.

The Romance of the Permanent Wake--By Alan McAlpine Douglas--United Kingdom

The Romance of the Permanent Wake

Man’s way of chaos-handling shows,
he tames his universe with zest;
trace where he was, or goes; man knows
his wake defines where he’ll be missed.

Sleek airplane’s hum is clearly heard,
impulse, man’s wave to unknown mates:
no sooner flown this silver bird,
than vapour trail evaporates.

Salt sailor bold bad weather braves,
he stares astern at widening wake
through foam-flecked seas tossed ship breaks waves,
though wake’s erased where bruised wave break.

Airplane’s thin trail ? It came, and went.
Wake is erased by wave’s torments;
but two glistening, snaking rails accent
man’s way : man’s wake made permanent !

Alan McAlpine Douglas, father to 5 and grandfather to 3, has been writing poetry since 1993. His idiosyncratic voice has produced thousands of poems in this time, and he finds it quite hard to stay serious, even when he means to. He also enjoys writing spoofs, using well-known poems or songs like Clementine or In the Ghetto as his models.

finding stars…--By Su'eddie Vershima Agema--Nigeria

finding stars…

he looked up to the skies;
it reflected the darkness that lay at the bottom of his heart
he searched for the stars but they were absent
he smiled sadly

he wasn’t going to be low too long
for he knew that beyond those blankets, the stars shone

he took a deep breath, closed his eyes
kissed the air and searched for the stars once more
this time he found a million sparkles
deep within his soul…

Su'eddie Vershima Agema was joint winner, Association of Nigerian Authors Prize for Poetry 2014 with his second collection, Home Equals Holes: Tale of an Exile. He lives in Nigeria, blogs at http://sueddie.wordpress.com and can be reached at eddieagema@yahoo.com. @sueddieagema on Twitter.

Preacher's Pet Peeve--By Robert A. Dufresne--United States

Preacher's Pet Peeve

There was a man whose name was Mr. Loud;
he preached humility with his head bowed.
He was quite the preacher,
with a unique feature.
He was so humble that it made him proud!

Robert A. Dufresne was born in Vermont and raised on a dairy farm. After four years in the Navy and trying his hand at a couple of trades, he settled in as a self employed remodeling carpenter for 31 years. He and his wife moved to Florida in 1998, where he continued his career. He began writing poetry in 2009 .

Escaping the Matrix: A Choka--By Nalini Priyadarshni--India

Escaping the Matrix: A Choka

We remain same though
Something dies in us each day
To pave way for new
That did not exist before
Metamorphosis
Evolution perhaps, or
Degeneration
Endless possibilities
Exist outside the matrix

Nalini Priyadarshni is a poet, writer, editor and amateur photographer. Her work has appeared at numerous magazines and international anthologies including Up the Staircase Weekly, eFiction India, Mad Swirl, Camel Saloon, Lipstickparty mag, Tanka Undertow, Locution Mag, and Earl of Plaid. Her forthcoming publications include Learning & Creativity and Dukool. She lives in, India with her husband and two feisty kids.

Aftermath--By Tim Ryerson--United States

Aftermath -

tree frogs are singing
to orange-black tinted clouds
against purple sky

set in the foreground
an A-Frame rooftop peeks out
between long-leaf pines

further off due south
thunder still rumbles and rolls,
threatening the peace

a single raindrop
draining from the carport roof
tickles down my nose

the sight and the sound
of the eternal present
in the perfect now

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 style’ 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.”

October Sky--By Jan Allison--United Kingdom

October Sky
 
dusky marmalade
drips onto the horizon
eyes feast hungrily

fiery embers glow
painted with swirling brushstrokes
artistry of God

waxing crescent moon
peeps through rich tangerine clouds
dream time approaches

Jan Allison is a relative newcomer to poetry. She didn’t start writing poetry until her husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer and underwent surgery at the end of 2013. She wrote her first poem ‘Splendid Isolation’ whilst he was in hospital. Since then has discovered a love of poetry and has written over 500 poems. Jan also wrote collaboratively with her writing partner Darren Watson under the name Jadazzle United.

Dreams, Thoughts and Moments--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States

Dreams, Thoughts and Moments

Every little dream I dream at night
has you safe in my arms holding me tight.
Every little thought I think each day
has your beautiful eyes looking my way.
Each little moment of my daily life,
I have happy thoughts of you as my wife.
My every heartbeat is for your love.
I sing with the raindrops sent from above.
But, alas, such deep love can never be;
that love would be strong as an oak tree.
Even roses don’t last, not even for me.
Dreams are just wishful thinking.
Thoughts are gone as quick as blinking.
Moments never stay around very long
So love of my life I will sing you a song.

Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"

Love Everlasting--By Linda Hurdwell--England

Love Everlasting

I might have gone but you mustn’t fear
You can’t see me now yet I am here.
I’m in a snowflake or splash of rain
I’m the soft breeze that soothes your pain
You’ll feel my kiss in the morning dew
You’ll catch my love in a hazy hue
And when the sun is hot and strong
My smile is wide as I sing a song
You’ll hear my voice as the wind plays
Bellowing and blowing on gusty days
I’m in the flowers, the grass, the air
I’m a cloud, a leaf in nature’s lair
And when it’s dark and cold and bleak
My arms will hug you as I speak
Whisper to my children dear
Don’t weep, don’t fret, for I am here

Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years.  She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born.  She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published.  Although now a pensioner,  she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week.  Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.

Shopping Question--By Suzanne Clement--United States

Shopping Question

I brought some cream of rice at the store
Because I found I needed some more.
It’s on a shelf quite high.
And so I say, why
Can’t it be on a shelf nearer to the floor?

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

The Butterfly Emerges--By Kelly Deschler--United States

The Butterfly Emerges

From the dark cocoon, the butterfly emerges,
Finally realizing she cannot control her urges,
To witness the beauty of the midnight moon,
The butterfly emerges, from the dark cocoon.

She flew from the shadows, out into the daylight,
The colors on her wings had never shone so bright,
She was meant to be here, her brave heart knows,
Out into the daylight, she flew from the shadows.

No more sitting alone, back in her little room,
No more hiding in dampness, darkness and gloom,
She had finally found a friend to call her own,
Back in her little room, no more sitting alone. 

Kelly Deschler lives in Big Falls, Wisconsin, United States.

Desi Chinese--By Shloka Shankar--India

Desi Chinese

Chinese takeout was our thing –
specifically – Desi Chinese.
My dad and I almost always made sure
there was enough vinegar in the rice,
much to the chagrin of my mother.
She would tell us about how

it was just right. Of course it wasn’t.
Now she knows. Few words were spoken,
but a lot of gesticulations in the form
of gustatory head banging and
garlic sighs peppered the table.

The crunch of a still reasonably warm
spring-roll would signal that we were really
starting to dig in to our meal. My dad would
ask me, “How is it?” and I would mumble
through a garden of vegetables, “Sho good!”

In between all the soy sauce, ajinomoto,
and vinegar (of course), we were just
the three of us – enjoying a family meal.

It was our little tradition. And it smelled of home.

Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer residing in India. Her work appears in over two dozen international anthologies including publications by Paragram, Silver Birch Press, Minor Arcana Press, Harbinger Asylum, Kind of a Hurricane Press and Writing Knights Press among others. Her poems, erasures, haiku & tanka have appeared in numerous print and online journals. She is also the editor of the literary and arts journal, Sonic Boom.

WHISPER'S SPECIAL ACTIVITY--CONNECTING WITH FOODS--OUR POEMS

Treat your taste buds to an adventure. Read this month's activity. Poets from all over the world share their love of food: a traditional dish, a personal favorite or family favorite. We celebrate love and memorable occasions in our lives with the enjoyment of food. Thank you to all those poets who generously shared their taste sensations and heartfelt memories with us. As editor, I was fortunate to savor these memories with you, because food can bring people and words together in surprising ways.

Activity Editor
Anne Curran

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roast Pork Dinner

We’re finally warm after the snow.

By Kelley White
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mexican Enchiladas

Visiting Mama and her homecoming special: OOH enchiLA-LAdas!

By Charlene McCutcheon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday Roast

dad sharpens the carving knife

By Anne Curran
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bacon and Sausage Pizza

three nephews and an empty box

By ayaz daryl nielsen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stuffed Rump Steak

Dripping and appetizing;
Cholesterol hides behind the taste.

By Paul Callus
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beloved Sitshwala

mouth-watering stiff dumpling from maize
gracing today`s hot pot

By Ndaba Sibanda
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Faschiertes (German for Hamburger)

Hamburger, luscious,
dripping ketchup and mayo,
gherkin, and fries - gone !

By Alan McAlpine Douglas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pure Bliss

Electrically charged,
high vibration,
oxygenated,
freshly squeezed
orange juice
sunshine -

By Scott Thomas Outlar
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Teichelmauke

A dish only for swimmers in Upper Lusatia

By Gert. W. Knop
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Country Sausage

the tentative first bite testing the cayenne's heat 

By Elizabeth Howard
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Corn Bread

grandma saves crumbles for the birds.

By Rosa Clement
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Food Sown In Culture 

If spices seldom miss your tongue,
you're in India.

By Vasanthi S. Pillai
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Sweet Tea

grandma pours from an endless pot, our glasses full

By Barbara Tate
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Lancashire Hot Pot

Highly recommended by the visitors guide

By Beth Winchcombe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chili

So hot 'twas made by Satan himself!

By Robert L. Hinshaw
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gathered Together

fried chicken, mashed potatoes
and Mom's famous stuffing...
truly blessed!
 
By Karen O’Leary
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soylent Green

Mmmmm… Tasty.

By Robert P. Hansen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Halwa 

Sugar, raisins, nuts and ghee
Children relish it for free.

By Ranu Uniyal 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fish and Chips

Wrapped in newspaper

By Jack Horne
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A PC Cabbage

Sauerkraut today.  Victory Cabbage in 1917.

By Ron Larson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Roast Pork

Looking forward to the scratchings

By Beth Winchcombe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday Night Popcorn

Watching Bonanza with bowl after bowl after buttery bowl.

By Andrea Dietrich
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wake up

to that first hot cup of java.

By Joan McNerney
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday Dessert

bananas and wafers added to the pudding

By Maurice J. Reynolds
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dumplings (Another German/Austrian favourite)

Light as air,
bread rolls soaked,
boiled, consumed with pork.

By Alan McAlpine Douglas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spaghetti

Slurping up delicious noodles.

By David Fox
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my favorite uncle

madeira cake in the tin 

By Anne Curran
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fried Okra

Mother lifts browned slices from the cast-iron skillet

By Elizabeth Howard
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bean Soup

mother blows on mine to cool it.

By Rosa Clement
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hot Cross Buns

Who remembers Granny White’s recipe?

By Kelley White
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cherry Pie

ice creme already in my dish

By ayaz daryl nielsen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mopani Worms

dried and salted
a delicacy  that saw an eater
swallow up his tongue!

By Ndaba Sibanda
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okra

no longer in season, I go to the freezer

By Barbara Tate
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aloo Puri 

Hot, spicy, puff and fry
Sunday mornings never dry. 

By Ranu Uniyal
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bakewell Tart

She's my favourite Derbyshire delight

By Beth Winchcombe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frankfurt Green Sauce

Nice with potatoes if you are not a Martian

By Gert W. Knop
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday Pot Roast

Mom's tenderest dish I always topped with ketchup!

By Andrea Dietrich
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aromas 

from home made, banana bread fill my kitchen.

By Joan McNerney
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What a joy to read these delightful poems!  So many of our memories are connected with food.  Special thanks to Anne for coming up with this activity and all her hard work as editor for this column.  Thank you, also, to all the talented contributors who shared their favorite foods and memories.  

Karen O'Leary
Whispers' Editor

Crossroads--By Peggy Dugan French--United States

Crossroads

She’s standing in her room
A rare morning
She no longer lives here . . . just visiting.

I soak up her warmth
Watch her get ready for her day
Perched in her doorway, coffee in hand.

Light pours into the room
Her highlights glisten
I remind her she’s beautiful.

She smiles
Tilts her head

I wonder
Where has the time gone . . .

Peggy Dugan French is a California girl with Minnesota roots. She has enjoyed being the editor of Shemom since 1997. She has worn many hats over the years, but being a Mom has been one of her greatest adventures; she’s had the pleasure of sharing that journey with her best friend.

Haiku--By John McDonald--Scotland

lit candles
tears as they melt -
Nagasaki day
_______________

a vase of lilies
dripping pollen
and: a Jackson Pollock
_______________

barbecue -
the sun's light sizzles
amongst the sausages
_______________

he said he saw
God dance once
...red-crowned cranes
_______________

John McDonald is a retired stone-mason who came to haiku in the mid-nineties. He fell in love with the genre immediately. Being a writer in the Scots language this genre fitted so well with Scots: a language steeped in rural life and having a natural succinctness to it. John has his own blog in Scots, with English versions: http://zenspeug.blogspot.com  He enjoys being involved in translations, working with the very fine Irish poet Gabriel Rosenstock on various ventures, the most recent being translations into Irish and Scots of the great haiku poet Buson: Moon over Tagoto and has appeared in many anthologies.

One Day--By Sara R. Vogler--United States

One Day

what to do when things can’t work,
what to say when words don’t come,
what to do?

feelings are power,
but emotions are brighter.
standing on a bridge,
where thoughts get higher,
when hearts collide,
all I want is you.

motions through the day,
prove irresistible, thoughts are irreplaceable.
today comes one day,
and I am here for one day only.

Sara R. Vogler is a published poet and writer, originally from Krakow, Poland. Currently living in Washington, DC, her work has ranged from poetry to critical essays. Recently, she has collaborated with her father on a three-piece book featuring work to honor their past. Vogler finds comfort in knowing that her words will someday make a lasting impression on someone's life.

I Hear Guitars a' Calling--By Terry O’Leary--France

I Hear Guitars a' Calling

I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling
when sinking suns subdue their flames for fairies on the wing,
as day departs, a yawning ash beneath a dusky haze,
igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze.

I hear guitars a’ calling from the clouds within the skies,
with tunes which flow as purple drops from sombre misting eyes
of misplaced muted homeless souls who roam alone in grief
beneath the vastness of the stars while trembling like a leaf.

I hear guitars a’ calling in the gentle splashing rain
which summons with a soothing purr upon my window pane
evoking vivid childhood dreams within a vagrant breeze
entwining me in cryptic webs of misty vortices.

I hear guitars a’ calling from the waves on distant shores;
they’re crashing out a monody upon the mystic oars
of phantom ships before the dawn, like spectral caravels,
a’ sail on seas of raven wings from moonlit citadels.

I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles;
they’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas,
while waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze,
and closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze.

Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".

Cat Quartet--By Joan McNerney--United States

Cat Quartet

Summer

Black and white kitten
lying under clothesline in
soft circles of sleep.

Fall

Windy afternoon
my calico cat leans forward
against the cold.

Winter

That tiger cat with
winking green eyes tossing
up balls of red yarn.

Spring

Inquisitive...
the gingersnap cat stares as
I get undressed.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Camel Saloon, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Spectrum, and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane and Poppy Road Anthologies.

Alas Fair Muse--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

Alas Fair Muse

Alas, fair Muse is filled with sadness,
Drowning in this life’s travails.
Though in her heart she’s filled with gladness
Hidden by a wintery veil.

When taste of sorrow cuts so deep,
A bleeding heart she tries to stave,
Her countenance of faith will keep
To rise above her earthly grave.

In rising, thus she breaks the mold,
Of pressures, sores and chains of yore,
As futures are so oft foretold,
Within the essence of the core.

To hold within the substance thus,
Where life cannot ingrain the grime,
There lives a part of will and trust,
To find such moments, and such time.

She rises like the ancient story,
From the ashes to the fight,
Finding her own place in glory
From the depths of darkest night.

Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes,  immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents.  She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons.  She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images.  A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain.  She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.

Adobe Abode--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Adobe Abode

The store bought balsa birdhouse
brought by my grand-girl today
hangs on the same bent rusty nail

hammered in our backyard tree
where the handmade house her
mommy mounted forty years ago

formed from two orange terra cotta
flower pots one upside down on top
of the other held with preschool paste.

Saved in my special place the broken
yellow pencil perch once poked below
the oval hole and a shard of aged clay

displaying initials etched by my three
year old daughter preserved forever
in an old man’s nest of memories.

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.

MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever
www.authorsden.com/carlpalmer

Limitless...--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada

Limitless...

in a universal spiral

alive... 

standing in the golden light of the sun

exploring... 

in an undiscovered forest of emerald trees

climbing...

mountains of the purest silver

diving....

into oceans of the deepest sapphire blue

lifted...

by the clearest of crystal winds

gliding... 

into the passageway of ruby red twilight

defying gravity... 

limitless, we are diamonds in a jet black night

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.

Murder at the Prom--By Kathryn McLoughlin Collins--United States

Murder at the Prom

Frankie Lyman shrilled his falsetto.
Gwendolyn Gould danced in stilettos.
So callously smothered,
they never recovered.
Poor little piggies, scrunched little toes.

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.

The Burden of Silence--By Kala Ramesh--India

The Burden of Silence

I hear a child whimpering . . .

The black tar road shimmers with the heavy rain we've had since morning. Each lamppost creating a mockery of the halo around the bulb. The darkening street comes alive, responding to something in the air, like the burden of silence in a courtroom before the verdict is announced.

Again, this whimpering sound . . . the child utters a name in between other obscure sounds. Curled on the road I see a woman in a sari, deep red in patches. A hit and run case. A gang rape. I dig into my sling bag for the cell phone. I need to call the police. But, I hesitate. Do I have the time and space to be dragged into this ruthless act?

The ticking seconds juxtapose my heartbeats. I dial 100

 withered branches
 stirring colours
 within me
 the present becomes my past
 running into my future

First published in - A Hundred Gourds 4:1 – December 2014

Neck deep in haiku, her face barely visible, Kala Ramesh, an award winning poet has been instrumental in bringing school kids and college youth into haiku. Indian music being extempore in nature, has taught Kala to think within and without the box — to be creative, daring and innovative and still adhere to the demands of an art form. Her latest obsession is to paint city walls with haiku, to weave in a pause, a breather into our hectic lives!

Poolside--By Marlene Million--United States

Poolside

Turquoise pool invited splash! Spotting
teen-agers plunging off diving board,
I stretched zig-zag printed towel atop
chase, and lathered oil over limbs.

Radio tunes herald leisure. Tiny toddler
in polka-dotted bikini munched cheesy chips.
Baby brother floated in canopied tube;
young girl lost green goggles.

Settling, I pulled can from cooler,
as ice cubes rattled to bottom. Ah, cold
liquid soothed parched throat, while
sun's sultry radiance sizzled!

Sweating under hot rays, I rise for a dip.
Sunshine sparkling over water like
sprinkled diamonds, soft wind whisks.
Wrapped in summer's heat. . .

I dive into cool refreshment.

Marlene Million is a retired insurance secretary from her husband's business and grandmother of four. She has published two chapbooks and belongs to several writers’ groups. She had a poem on display at Indianapolis Arts Garden the month of February, 2013 and has been published in a variety of venues.

Haiku--By Angelee Deodhar--India

Mudslide--
the shepherd’s hut
washed away
_______________

persimmon afternoon-
within the wisteria canopy
Shiki remembered
_______________

mowing the lawn-
cold golden beer slides down
my parched throat
_______________

well water
poured into my thirsty hands-
I, Chiyo-ni
_______________

while doing laundry
at the river's edge
the flow of gossip
_______________

Previously published in the Asahi Shimbun Haikuist Network, Japan
 
Angelee Deodhar, an eye surgeon by profession is a haiku poet, translator, and artist. She lives and works in Chandigarh, India. Her haiku/haibun/haiga have been published internationally in various books and journals, and her work can be viewed on many websites. To promote haiku in India, she has translated six books of haiku from English to Hindi, which she distributed for free. These bilingual books include: If Someone Asks: Masaoka Shiki's Life and Haiku (2005),Classic Haiku: A Master's Selection, edited by Miura Yuzuru (2006), Ogura Hyakunin Isshu: 100 Poems by 100 Poets (2007), Children’s Haiku from Around the World–A Haiku Primer (2007), Indian Haiku (2008), and The Distant Mountain: The Life and Haiku of Kobayashi Issa (2009).

Silhouette of Life--By Mary A. Couch--United States

Silhouette of Life

Your silhouette resides amid the field,
bleak skeleton remains of a home now lost.
Red brick rubble, once full of life that yield,
tears and laughter in days of sun and frost.

You stood beneath a scraggly old oak tree
whose branches harbored squirrels and tiny tots.
They climbed and swung upon its limbs so free,
but now like you, forlorn, it slowly rots.

Of brick and mortar, you were born one day,
enclosed by heather and golden flowers.
Naught but a shattered memory today,
an empty-eyed abode that’s lost it powers.

In life you were a home of joy for all,
you’ve gone, and what remains is one brick wall.

Mary A. Couch resides in Noblesville, Indiana, and works as an Admin Assistant for Taylored Systems, Inc. a local telecommunication company. She is the Premier Poet for the Indiana State Federation of Poetry Clubs, and she learned poetry from her mother and two grandmothers who were writers, artists and storytellers. She has been published in a variety of venues.

Poet of the Month--Connie Marcum Wong

The Gift of Poetry

By Connie Marcum Wong

A poet enters a private sanctuary,
A sacred place where the imagination
Dwells with a mélange of emotions
Conceived by aesthetic beauty
Often divine and esoteric in nature;
That comprehensive longing to
Express through common language
That which is so vitally uncommon.
Words that seek to form a bridge
Between intellectual abstract thought
And the world of the inarticulate.

A way to express the depth of sorrow
While having it become a cathartic
Release, thereby relating to others
In commiseration and heartfelt empathy.
Poetry has the ability to help, to heal.
To reach souls enduring that same pain
May be a blessed gift poetry genuinely
Offers in a nonintrusive manner, helping
Lonely souls know they are not alone.

No-one escapes the loving light poetry sheds.
It dwells inside each of us, realized or not.
It teaches with simplicity, expands the mind,
Ingratiates itself without any effort when
Expressed with forethought and integrity.
It may stir emotions from the most stoic.
Speech itself, lives and breathes, and is poetic.

Words may elevate our spirit with such intensity
To a generate a feeling akin to euphoric bliss.
Poets, honored in past glory with the status of Kings,
Now dwell in a world often misunderstood by the
Masses too busy to take the time to regard its worth.
How fortunate for the insightful that appreciate and
Embrace the ageless, immortal soul poetry provides.
They are blessed and will give birth to future poets.
_______________

From the editor--It is a pleasure to announce that Connie Marcum Wong is August’s Poet of the Month.  She is a talented published writer and the web mistress of a private poetry forum called Poetry for Thought.  She has promoted Whispers at her forum, helping us grow our online journal. Readers at Whispers enjoy her creative poetry.  Connie is an uplifting voice at our online journal, regularly leaving thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  She has shared her talent by participating in some of our community activities. It is a pleasure to honor Connie this month!
_______________

Thoughts on “The Gift of Poetry ”--The opening line captured my attention right away as I do believe that poetry is a gift that wells up from a special place within us.  Connie’s poem is rich in imagery, a true artistic experience.  She presents us with an insightful view of the writing experience.  The last line extends this experience beyond the individual’s sphere into the future. It is a gift to share Connie’s words with you!
_______________

Congratulations and thank you Connie!  I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.

Sincerely,

Karen O’Leary, Editor

Tiger Snakes--By Paul Callus--Malta

Tiger Snakes

Along the coastal areas
in wetlands and by creeks
the tiger snakes are waiting
alert, with bloated cheeks.

They hide in expectation
where timber rots away,
in matted vegetation
and leafage in decay.

Thick-bodied, plain or banded
right down to robust tails,
with brightly varied colours
and overlapping scales.

Their venom can be fatal.
They strike in self defence.
When threats become a danger
they go on the offence.

The tiger snakes are waiting
to catch unwary prey,
betraying no emotion.
Their patience lasts all day.

Paul Callus is a Maltese author who writes both in Maltese and English. He has contributed to several anthologies. Apart from poetry he writes lyrics for songs and has published two books, one a story book aimed at children (related to his experience as a teacher) and a historical book based on research.

Haiku--By Ronald Grognet--United States

      novices--
new robes, new names
       reboot
_______________

summer break--
I find the assignment
the dog ate
_______________

now and again
the urge to call mom--
long dead
_______________

class reunion--
shaking hands
shaking hands
_______________

Ronald Grognet is a retired Clinical Psychologist who practiced private individual and family therapy for thirty-five years. He lived and worked in Washington D.C., and Sarasota, FL before retiring in New Orleans to be close to his grandsons. Besides his volunteer time spent on disaster assignments for the Red Cross, he fills his time devoted to haiku poetry. His interest in poetry came as a gift in retirement. Reading an article about haiku filled with many examples, he recognized its similarity to the reflective stance of the meditation he practiced for many years. He has vigorously pursued its study for the last two years, personally experiencing its healing and enlightening qualities.

Blinders--By Laura M. Kaminski--United States

Blinders

This firefly that walks across my palm, he
does not realize he glows, knows only

he is drawn to others of his kind, approaches
them with his own sense of dark humility,

is suddenly blinded by their brilliant flashes.
He only feels his own smallness, meager wings,

short flights between eternities of crawling,
oblivious to his own longing

flexing into light.

Laura M. Kaminski grew up in northern Nigeria, went to school in New Orleans, and currently lives in rural Missouri. She is an Associate Editor at Right Hand Pointing. Her most recent collection, Considering Luminescence, is available from Amazon, and more of her poetry can be found at arkofidentity.wordpress.com

My Pole Star--By Sanju Clement--India

My Pole Star

I could recite my poems to the romancing ears
Of the curvy dunes residing in seashells' dreams.
They could share even to the unarmed-sands
Which were heartlessly trampled by every day.

Fetters, the winds attached on the ruined legs
Of my sail became prime bleeding flowers.
Peeling off the aromas petal by petal, I did
Soothe and eternize the cries of the breeze.

My soul dissected and deciphered melancholy
From the turbulent nucleus of its emotional travels,
Millimeter by millimeter.

But, you astonished me every night as you blossomed
In a peerless and predestined orb, as my only Pole Star
Of eternal love, creating the visibly infinite chemical dis-
Tance between a star and a cluster-less stardust, and with
The ever ageless temperature in your caring celestial smiles.

Sanju Clement is a writer from Kerala, India.

My World--By Joyce I. Johnson--United States

My World

In the middle of the universe I stand,
In the wonder of a world prepared for me.
God has provided all I need,
With some cautions I should heed,
As well as ears to hear and eyes to see.

He sends no bill to pay at end of day
And no millionaire could buy what he gives free.
It is really only fair
That he asks me to take care
And no being goes extinct because of me.

We don't know if in this universe immense
There is another world as wonderful as ours
Where even the fertile sod
Is a gracious gift from God
Along with all the sunshine and rain showers.

Everything this world needs, our God has given
And the only realm more perfect is God's Heaven.

Joyce I. Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce celebrated her 96th birthday in July of 2014.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Taiwo Adetimole and Ajise Vincent-- Nigeria

Beyond Emotions

By Taiwo Adetimole and Ajise Vincent

I.

Wuraola, bones of my bones,
you whose beauty never fades
for at your pose men stare involuntarily.
Can you imagine your beauty is the gossip at the town square?

I.

My sweetheart, a dove amongst vultures,
a lily among thorns.
Thy smile not thy frown I want to see.
Wuraola, did I offend you again?

II.

Okiki, the finest of the Orchard.
my heart beats heavily.
Who has enchanted you with the fragrance of her perfume?
I'm dancing in fear.

I.

My darling bride, your cheeks are matched loveliness.
Wuraola, my heartbeat,
none as enchanted me and none can.
How fragrant your cologne.

II.

Look! I leaped upon hills,
ran through vineyards to be here.
Okiki, Prove thy Love, take me with you.
Seal me in your heart with permanent betrothal.

I.

Wuraola, How delightful I am,
surrendering my ears to your voice.
My heart lies in wait for you,
but life's pestilence has drilled holes in my pocket.

I. Okiki
II.Wuraola

Duplicity--By James Rasmusson--United States

Duplicity

Doctor Jekyll
smart, urbane
nurturing, dreaming, scheming
inventive, anxious, lustful, violent
carousing, raping, murdering
drunken, debauched
Mister Hyde

James began writing in the 1960’s and immediately showed a love for seasonal, humorous, and philosophical poetry. In the late 70’s, he became an ardent photographer and soon found that the two artistic mediums cross pollinated each other. West Michigan is an art Mecca with over 100 galleries and art camps with Jim residing in the lovely coastal town of Holland, Michigan. A practitioner of Surat Shabd Yoga since 1972, his art is an expression of his lifetime love affair with nature and his quest for truth. James is the winner of many awards in both photography and poetry including the 2005 Shadow Poetry 5th biannual chapbook competition. The artist says he likes to underscore the abstract and tease the mind and be ever alert for juxtapositions that express irony, absurdity, and poignancy, desiring for people to feel both tension and resolution in his compositions.

Unbreakable--By Subilaga Emmie Mulaga Jana--Malawi

Unbreakable

This honesty allures a heavenly lullaby
An orchestration of profound serendipity
Deeply engraved before time immemorial
A perpetuation of unique legacy
Untouched by the numbness of life
Innocent, unscripted by a writers’ own
Perfect enchantment of darling buds of life
An extenuation of a ray clustered demeanor
Poised by divine intellect
Immensely sculptured by noble footprints
Blended together, never to be broken
The power of umbilical cord
Perfectly knitted for a winsome pattern
A vivacious embroidery of caramel falls
An inevitable bond spattered trail
Yes, the eternal glow of a twinkling star
Some things are forever

Born on 30th of August 1980 at Lilongwe Central Hospital in Malawi, Subilaga has always loved to write since at a tender age. She wrote short stories and was always interested in things of art. English was always her favorite subject. Subilaga has been writing poems since the age of ten, and it is after someone read her poetry that he thought it was worth sharing. She has always been a spiritual person and is always in touch with her feelings. She believes the gift of poetry is deep spirited and comes from a deep connection with reality.

Under Pressure--By Jim Teeters--United States

Under Pressure

Beneath the earth
lava burns
a molten core

we walk the crust
do daily chores and
    chase dreams
hoping life continues
knowing it ends

the walk is
    toward a precipice
    a burial, closer
    to earth’s
        furnace

this knowledge
    hurries us
        makes us
        hate traffic jams

Jim Teeters has published poetry in several anthologies. He conducts poetry workshops for children and adults and is active in poetry readings in the Seattle area through the Striped Water Poets. He is the author of six poetry collections and the book, Teach with Style, (ASTD Press July 2013). Jim is a retired social worker living in Kent, Washington.

Prairie Sunset-By Phyllis Babcock--Canada

Prairie Sunset

The sun hung low in the heavens
before it proclaimed its nocturnal rest
sliding gently behind earth's round orb
   daylight slips into evening dusk
   sun gives its last burst of bright light
sprinkling the clouds with kaleidoscopic colors
   decorating and painting the land of living skies
   nature's design
             a radiant sunset
creating an evening of pure prairie perfection.

Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on Poetry.com and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.

unknown land--By jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States

unknown land

there are waves
coming endlessly
against the coral reefs
being shelled
with mysteries
that only the sea can know

and the tall hopes
coming bravely
like daring seafarers
to an unknown land

that only you can know
_______________

When the Tall Ships came to Lake Ontario when I was young, my mother and I walked down to watch the majestic vessel sailing proudly toward us. Later, she translated her experience of this vision into this poem, where the Tall Ships are symbolic of the tall hopes that move courageously through our lives, guiding us to a beautiful unknown part of ourselves. -- Nila J. Webster

Haiku--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada

an oak tree
with bare-knuckled roots ...
alone at twilight
_______________

scent of the morning air ...
the breeze pulls over me
a quilt of blossoms
_______________

raft of cherry petals
making a turn
the shadow and I
_______________

dripping faucet
and a pile of dishes ...
frosty morning
_______________

cloud upon cloud
along the snowy peaks ...
her unspoken words
_______________

Chen-ou Liu is the author of four books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize Winner of the 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest). His tanka and haiku have been honored with many awards. To read more of his poems, please go to Poetry in the Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/

The Damp Cloak--By Sara Kendrick--United States

The Damp Cloak

Silvery fog blankets the trees
     Slowly creeps across the vale
Wraps a cloak upon my bare arms
     Damp dreary thoughts prevail

The bright cheery sun is covered
     Revealed a gray wolf's eye
Pale and hungry waiting for prey
     Releasing tears and sighs

White circle icy cold pierces clouds
     In the sky, hope appears
No permanence in fog's presence
     Even though sun disappeared

Like life's changing circumstances
     Is the early morn's sky
In seconds from fog to gold light
     From fear to God's love fly

Sara Kendrick married young and had a family soon after. After her last child went to school, she decided to pursue her GED. A gentlemen who worked with the GED program encouraged her to enroll in college.  She worked part time and cared for her family in addition to her studies. She graduated from Mercer University. Several years ago, after a health crisis, she started writing poetry. 

A Tristich Trio--By Brian Strand--England

A Tristich Trio

an unexpected guest arrives,
the daily routine is upset-
cancer leaves its calling card
_______________

tears begin to fall.
emotion becomes a flood-
a cataract of regret flows
_______________

a realisation dawns,
fleeting thoughts crystallize-
an 'as is' moment of hope is born
_______________

Tristich is a Parallel Verse(Inspired by Hebrew Biblical parallels ex. Lamentations 1:1) It comprises L1 theme L2--echo of theme L3 punch line/observation
_______________

Brian Strand has created short poetic forms including 'broken monoku' (a haiku variation) and 'footle' (a trochaic monometer with witty, topical, etc themes) and Captioned Cartoon, an Ekphrasis combining his art and poetic interests. He has published a seven kindle ebook series Poetic forms; A Strand of Verse; My Choice Strand Verse; A Strand Guide; Christianity Explained; A Strand critique; and Captioned Cartoon Ekphrasis. Brian has written nearly 200 Amazon reviews and is a Wiki poetry and art editor.

One of a Kind--By Gerald Heyder--United States

One of a Kind

Life is a journey on wheels of time
though our tenure seems a phase.
We bask in glow of golden sun
yet we dream below moon’s haze.
We dance with hope in our hearts
when life seems a hopeless cause.
We ride aboard calendar and clock
and gaze at stars that shine.
We are members of God’s flock,
uniquely one of a kind.

Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Beth Winchcombe and Jack Horne--England

The Natural Pathway

By Beth Winchcombe and Jack Horne

She walks in peace
through a garden of memories
filled with quietness.
Calm and serenity
move with her.

Droplets of moisture
touch her face...
...as she moves in grace.

Early morning mist
clothe bare branches.
They part as she passes
through the clinging cobwebs!

The stillness of the day
will evaporate between
sunrise and sunset.

Early morning quiet erupts,
noise again prevails...
...she lives through another day.

He loves nocturnal still,
the garden lit by stars and moon,
each tree in shadow stands,
each flower waits for sunrise soon.

He walks the starlit path,
the sounds of insects on the wing,
as scented jasmine fills
the air, and birds begin to sing.

He sees the glow of dawn,
the bars of light that stain the sky;
he longs for dark again,
and bids the fading moon goodbye.
It's time he went indoors;
the rays of sunshine multiply.

Silent Witnesses--By Edilson Afonso Ferreira--Brazil

Silent Witnesses

It is common our disputes about this and that.
Really, almost daily, we are at opposite sides.
Friends say we are not well-settled a couple,
and so misjudgment, I know, hurt us equally.
I look at you asleep and feel all friends’ error.
Who would bear testimony of us, I ask myself.
Walls and roofs by sure know our inmost life
but they do not speak, are invalid witnesses.
I ask them if just to me would they say of us.
They say of our confronts, furies, rough words
and revilements but also remember hugs and
hot kisses. Likewise, remember have listened
some words like it is cold out, dear, wear your
coat or don’t be late, darling; some little things
only beloved ones are capable to.
They say we are at hard and arduous a battle,
on pursuing, although scarce, a bit of true love.
They also say to keep the route and fear nothing.
Tiles and bricks, indeed, they are; but perceive,
unlike our best friends, the very plot of the play.

First published in TWJ Magazine, October 2014 

Edilson Afonso Ferreira is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, in order to reach more people. Has been published in four printed British Anthologies, online or printed venues like Cyclamens and Swords, Right Hand Pointing, Boston Poetry Magazine, West Ward Quarterly, TWJ Magazine, The Lake, The Stare’s Net, The Provo Canyon, Amomancies, Snapdragon, The Gambler and some others. Short listed in four American Poetry Contests, lives in a small town with wife, three sons and a granddaughter and began writing after retirement as a Bank Manager. See more of his poetry in www.edilsonmeloferreira.wordpress.com.

A Piece of Quiet--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

A Piece of Quiet

Nature abounds in woods and meadows,
bringing simple pleasures that touch
the heart of those who love Nature.
Its magical joys come most abundantly
in spring, when the world of Nature
is awakening in smells of wildflowers;
and woods are alive with dogwood
blooms, looming like white clouds
in a sea of green.

It is the season when rivers seem to hum
more loudly and birds’ songs give a voice
to the air, filling it with melodies
cheerful and peaceful.

In woods and meadows, down a country
road, somewhere nearby, a piece of quiet
is waiting for those who love Nature.

John W. (Bill) Williams is a retired language arts and children’s literature educator.  He lives in Martin, GA, where he stays busy with his art and poetry.  He has been published in a variety of venues.

Vade Macum--By Beth Winchcombe--England

Vade Macum

Her hand shook
she clutched the book
fingered the pages
gently placed
it in her suitcase

She never travelled
alone
her treasured
companion
she valued
more than life itself

It rested on
her bedside shelf

She read a verse
each night
before sleep
transported her to
unconscious oblivion

It was her...
...Holy Bible

Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils.  She lives in Derbyshire, England.

When I Am Gone--By Eleanor Michael--United States

When I Am Gone

Some days I feel
if any essence
of me remains
let it be in the wind -
whether a mild zephyr
or cooling current -
passing gently,
carrying the breath
of flowers or support
for the wings of birds.
Still, if any awareness
stays, I will miss
the touch of family
and many friends.

There is always
a price for freedom
without restraint,
roots or commitments.

Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.

Pigments--By Ajise Vincent--Nigeria

Pigments

On that day,
I will limn a poem
On the canvas of your heart
With pigments of metaphors
And fine contemporary similes

This poem will be svelte:
Graced with hues of rhythm
Flowing from the acme of my soul.

It will be incandescent,
Ah! so virtuoso to be slagged
By any art connoisseur.

On that day,
I will call you Mona Lisa
And you will call me da Vinci.

Ajise Vincent is a Nigerian poet who derives maximum utility from the smell of coffee . He is a contributor to various print and online platforms. He writes from Lagos, Nigeria.

Escape--By Robert P. Hansen--United States

Escape

Huddled in its coop
—the barred door open—
the dove looks at me and
coos like a distant lover.

It struts slowly forward
like a white origami crane
or captured butterfly
recently set free.

It spreads its wings, flapping
them like linen pillowcases
hung out to dry in a stiff
summer breeze.

It leaps upward with
grace and majesty and
I marvel at the serenity
of its unfettered flight.

It does not look back.

Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy courses at a community college. In addition to poetry, he also writes genre fiction. His recent eBook publications include a free Story Sampler (14 stories from his collections), The Golden Key (Book 3 of his Angus the Mage fantasy series), and 2014: A Year of Poetry. For more information on his writing and where to find what he has published, visit his blog at: http://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/.

My Lady, the Sun--By Wale Owoade--Nigeria

My Lady, the Sun

I followed dawn till morning eight
till it lost its reign to yellow beams
I love my lady when her yellow scarf
embellishes the day and the curtains
gleam with streaks of light, profuse
yellow stalks that burn earth with
passing splendour but I am love sick
when her thrills become spirits

spirits fetching drops from scalps
and foreheads, when kisses are like
burns on bald, yellow fetching drops
from black. But our love will birth
more blooming on earth, tassels
more yellow paints for corn leaves.

Wale Owoade is a Nigerian poet. His works have appeared or forthcoming in publications like: Radar Poetry Journal, The Lake Poetry Journal, The Bombay Review, Maple Tree Literary Supplement, Yellow Chair Review, Black Mirror Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Zoomoozophone Review, and many others. Wale is the Publisher and Managing Editor of EXPOUND: A Magazine of Arts and Aesthetics and is currently working on his debut manuscript.

Autumn Gold--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States

Autumn Gold

Let autumn's feet be slow to leave
As winter white comes much too soon.
Let colors fill the eyes with warmth,
Enjoy the glow of harvest moon.

The trees in all their splendor stand
Till autumn winds coax leaves to dance.
As colors swirl my heart delights.
With every fall I share romance.

I love the crispness of the air,
The crunch of leaves beneath my feet
In scarlet, gold and pumpkin hues;
Welcome relief from summer's heat.

The rain comes tapping at my pane
With crystal diamond drops that share
The beauty of this season's soul,
A beauty that's beyond compare.

Connie Marcum Wong has been the Web Mistress of a private poetry forum Poetry for Thought since October 1999. Her poetry has been in many publications, anthologies, magazines, and e-zines over the years. She published her first poetry chapbook, Island Creations in 2005. In 2007, Heart Blossoms was published. In January 2010, an anthology, A Poetry Bridge to All Nations, was published by Lulu Enterprises, Inc. Connie created the 'Constanza' poetry form in 2007 and Con-Verse form in 2010. She has resided with her husband in Hawaii since 1980.

Fly With Me--By Leokadia Durmaj--Australia

Fly With Me

On the wings of a dove our love does fly
Touching together across the skies,
When you are the moon and I am the sun
Heaven is where our spirits unite.

We make beautiful music among the stars
Dancing like star gaze lovers in flight,
Our bodies ablaze with sweetest delights
The moment our love comes alive

He can feel her sweet breathe upon him
As he embraced the softness of her skin,
When he held this angel gently like a flower
She allowed his love to flow in.

Their love is the creation of a masterpiece
This angel so beautiful and serene,
Lies beside him delighted and complete
The scent of her love lingers within his dreams.

Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia

A Bouquet of Love--By Celine Rose Mariotti--Unted States

A Bouquet of Love
        (To Mom)

The way you smile at me,
Giving me advice
When I need it,
Helping me with little
Everyday problems
That’s a bouquet of love,

The times when we have a cup of tea
And a cherry turnover,
And watch “Young and the Restless”
And discuss the story
That’s a bouquet of love,

When you watch the Giants with me
And we discuss football,
When you bake a cake,
And when you edit one of my stories,
That’s a bouquet of love,

All you do,
All you give,
All wrapped up in one big hug,
And a big bouquet of your endless love.

Celine Rose Mariotti is an accomplished writer whose work has appeared in magazines all over the USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Australia and India. Some of those magazines include: Green’s Magazine, Poet’s Review, Poet’s Art, Tombigbee, Hindu Young World, Magnolia Quarterly, Lone Stars Magazine, Pablo Lennis, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Pink Chameleon and many more. She has had six books published. She plays the guitar and banjo; has her own home business and lives with her family in Shelton,CT.

Hashtag--By George L. Ellison--England

Hashtag

Why must I use a hashtag?
I never did at school
But when I go on twitter
It is the golden rule

Every sentence used to communicate
Is preceded by a hash
It isn’t like proper grammar
It makes my teeth constantly gnash

They say you only get noticed
When you use the hash prefix
But life is too short to bother
With ruining a language with such a mix

So carry on new century
Go on and have a blast
But I have no truck with the hashtag
I’ll stay in the century; the last!

George L. Ellison is a writer of poetry and  short stories. He as published two books called Poetic Reminiscences and Weaving Words.  George lives with his wife and dogs in Chester-Le-Street, County Durham in England. He is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance. He is currently working on his new project as well as learning to play the saxophone at the Sage Gateshead!

The Pen and the Inkstand--By Ron Larson--United States

The Pen and the Inkstand

The inkstand said to the pen, “I’m more important than you are.
In the creative process, I tower over you by far.”
The pen replied, “Not so, your ink would stay a mess without me.”
Then the poet walked in the door, and he had to intercede.

He said, “Boys, I’ve just returned from a nice concert tonight.
Would you think it right if the bow and a violin had a fight?
I don’t. In artistic endeavors, we all are necessary.
God uses us to give pleasure and insight to humanity.”

Ron Larson is a retired community college professor (Ph.D.) and has had both fiction and non-fiction published in various journals over the years. He has been writing poetry for the last two years. His poems have been accepted by such diverse magazines as The American Dissident, Big Pulp, and WestWard Quarterly.

Off Shore--By Annie Jenkin--England

Off Shore

Sea bird
traversing waves
glides on outstretched wings
head dips, briefly, to pluck a feast
of fish

Annie Jenkin lives in Plymouth, England. Having not written poetry for many years, Annie has returned to poetry writing with enthusiasm. Her writing explores several subject areas that are insightful, humorous but can also be sensitive.

A White Horseman--By John Daleiden--United States

A White Horseman

Will it end, this summer heat,
oppressive siege like your absence?
No letter from you today—
nor did it rain—unbearable.
Earth and I thirst for your presence—
fill my garden with new blooms.

Twenty-three days with no word;
the earth cracks, the grass turns brown.
Last night thunder in the skies
returned with clouds, but no rain.
In my dreams you ride a white horse;
you wear black and do not speak.

Autumn winds relieve the drought;
a letter commends your acts.
Your bravery saved many lives;
your funeral complete with taps.
Quiet tears fill each of my nights
grieving victims of all wars.

John Daleiden is retired from 43 years of teaching Language Arts in Iowa Public Schools. He now lives in Phoenix, Arizona. He currently serves on the Editorial Board and Submissions Manager of Four Chambers: The Heart of Literature in Phoenix, Arizona  (www.fourchamberspress.com) From 2006-2012, he was an editor and webmaster of Sketchbook: A Journal for Eastern and Western Short Forms.

Poetry--By Ramesh Anand--India

mouth open …
the dentist checks
for my payment mode
_______________

working from home ...
my child asks if she can
study from home
_______________

holidays end
the factory girls’ yield
of gossip
_______________

Ramesh Anand is a engineer from Bangalore, India. He works for Philips healthcare as a manufacturing test strategist. His haiku, tanka and haiga have appeared in 15 countries and translated to 8 foreign languages. He released his first book of haiku poetry in 2012 called Newborn Smiles, published by Cyberwit. Akita Sakigake Shimpo President Award, Honorable mention in International Matsuo Bashō Award, Dr. Sandeep Chauhan Commendable Prize by RLP Award 2013 are his latest awards. He is a member of IN haiku group and blogs at http://ramesh-inflame.blogspot.com/

Delicate--By Rick Parise--United States

Delicate

Each delicate thought
untouched and untamed
flickering a light
of beauty ingrained

For in a moment
minuet and unstained
reflects a great love
where memories remain

Each delicate thought
behold the new day
evanescent
fleeting
yet
forever shall stay

of crimson...of rose...of fire...of love...

Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon.  The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirit's are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at rapondering@yahoo.com

AUGUST ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES

NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN JULY   

            Caryl Calsyn--United States
            Alba Hernández Abrego--Costa Rica
            Linda Thurmond --United States
            Sandra Canfield--United States
            Christine Wichman--United States
            Scott Thomas Outlar--United States
            Allison Grayhurst--Canada
            Wale Owoade--Nigeria
            Emile Pinet--Canada

Please welcome them to our community.  We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Botswana, Canada, Canary Islands, Costa Rica, England, France, Germany, India, Ireland, Israel, Malawi, Malta, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, Pakistan, Philippines, Portugal, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, Singapore, Tunisia, Turkey, U.A.E., 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 September column by August 25

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Russell Sivey has published a poetry book called Halloween Horrors II. This book can be purchased at lulu.com, search Halloween Horrors II. Please be sure you select the Halloween Horrors II as that one is the correct book.

Robert P. Hansen's forthcoming novel Angst (Book 4 of the Angus the Mage fantasy series) will become available in June or early July. In anticipation of this event, he has made the first book of the series free as an eBook through several retailers. For more on this and his other books, visit his blog at: https://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/.

Jack Horne announces the release of his second novel, Cyber Vamps: a paranormal-fantasy romance. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $3.99 http://jackhorne.blogspot.co.uk

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.

Paul Callus published his first ebook of poetry called Meander in December 2014. It is a collection of 86 poems and songs which should appeal to those who read poetry for pleasure and relaxation. It is available at Amazon.

Pijush Kanti Deb released a poetry collection, Beneath the Shadow of a White Pigeon,
published by The Hollow Publishing. More information about the book is available at, http://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Shadow-White-Pigeon-Pijush/dp/1505854113/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422829526&sr=8-1&keywords=beneath+the+shadow+of+a+white+pigeon

Marianne Szlyk has released a new chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia Looking Up at Trees at Heaven, through Kind of a Hurricane Press' Barometric Pressures Authors Series. You may download the chapbook for free at this site: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html Thank you.

Celine Rose Mariotti has a new mystery/detective book called Minister’s Shoes in which Rev. Castle helps Sada Sampson find her husband and he also proves that Trevor is innocent of killing Cartwright. The story involves casino deals, infidelity, gambling and some big town gossips who are knee deep in the casino deals.  Price of book is: $11.00. If you live in CT, sales tax is 6.35 so price would be $11.70.  Postage is $2.70.  You can order from Amazon or you can order from me: celinem@aol.com

Maureen Sudlow has a poetry book, Antipodes, was released in early December. More information available on her website www.kiwis-soar.com

Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.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

PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES

Please consider supporting The Jokester and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage.  Thank you for considering this.                                                                                                                  ---Karen
 
Maurice J. Reynolds would like to announce that To God be the Glory! Publications and Creative Inspirations are undergoing some new and exciting changes. At this time, Creative Inspirations is accepting poetry submissions. For more information and guidelines, go to: www.tgbtgpublictions.com, or write to: To God be the Glory Publications, Attn: Creative Inspirations Guidelines, P.O. Box 19051, Kalamazoo, MI 49019.

ayaz daryl nielsen's print publication bear creek haiku is always open for postal submissions, mail poetry to bear creek haiku, PO Box 596, Longmont, CO 80502, USA, 11 lines and less, include SASE. Can be contacted at darylayaz@me.com, blog site is bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com.

Tom Davis, publisher of Old Mountain Press, invites all to review his eBook site (Kindle and NOOK) where numerous Old Mountain Press Anthologies of poetry and prose are listed see: Self-publish an electronic book e-book with Old Mountain Press. Visit Old Mountain Press' eBook site at http://www.oldmp.com/e-book

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. joker31277@yahoo.com

David Fox is seeking family-friendly poems for his magazine, The Poet's Art. Rates for the publication are $7 an issue or $25 for a 4 issue subscription. Checks should be made to cash.  Foreign contributors should pay $10 an issue or $35 for a subscription by international money order or American cash only.  Send submissions and  money for subscriptions to David Fox,171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia, NY 11749 USA.

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 at the end of each month.  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.