Saturday, October 31, 2015

Submission Guidelines (Please Note New Email Address)

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  Submissions of unpublished and previously published work are acceptable.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 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  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.

Friday, October 30, 2015

New Email Account for Karen O'Leary

Dear Whispers Friends,

I am transitioning to a new email account.  Please send your email address to--

Thank you.


Karen O'Leary
Whispers' Editor 

Editor's Thoughts/We Are Writers--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

This has been a month of change.  It has been sad losing Beth Winchcombe early this month.  The support for her Memorial shows that our community reaches far beyond poetry as we care for one another.  Your words will bring comfort to her husband, Geoff, and to her good friend, Jack Horne, in the difficult days ahead.

We welcome seven new writers, including two young writers to our poetry community.  Whispers is closing in on 150,000 views which we should reach in the next few days.  This is a tribute to all the talented writers that share their diversity for a variety styles and thoughts.  Thank you so much for your ongoing support.

Special thanks to those that promote Whispers and bring new writers to our online journal.  In the changing of the seasons, it is important that that we continue to grow and open doors so that poetry passes on to future generations.

We Are Writers

Published or unpublished,
     we are writers.
With our special gifts,
     we can affect lives.
Be it a card  to one or
     a book read by millions;
Each has a purpose,
     not to be diminished.

May your poetry be born of your hearts in a never ending journey.  We are writers, enriching our corner of the world.

Many blessings,

Whispers’ Editor

Thursday, October 29, 2015

In the dead of night desertion--By John Daleiden--United States

In the dead of night desertion
(Poetry Form--Cinqku)

waken me—
tremulous shakes
envelop my drenched sheets
each night

of you haunt
my sleepless nights—
trembling, I see the stairs

I stare
into dark,
waiting to hear
your voice, see your bright smile—

I creep
back to bed—
the void, dread filled
with relentless desire . . .
I groan

John Daleiden moved to Phoenix, Arizona in 2007 where he founded The West Valley Writer’s Critique Group in Avondale, AZ at Gangplank ( He also moderates other central Phoenix writing groups. Wind in the Reeds: A Collection of Poems, Valley View Press, is the title of his first book. He is retired after 43 years of teaching Language Arts courses in Public schools in Iowa and Illinois. John currently works as a freelance fiction and non-fiction editor in the Valley of the Sun, Phoenix, Arizona.

Haiku--By John McDonald--Scotland

the persimmon tree
sketching with words

halloween -
the rattling skeletons
of dead leaves

a clear blue sky -
stitching the world together

night fishing -
with the moon and orion...

a lifetime
of suns -.
the persimmon tree

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:  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.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Haiku--By Ronald Grognet--United States

back from vacation--
lost no more

strange experience
planning his day--

summer break--
I find the assignment
the dog ate

roof icicles
day by day--

a ferris wheel high --
amidst the stars
one for her finger

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.

Respite--By Mary Jo Balistreri--United States


is to walk along the sawdust trails
forest’s sun-filtered walls  fallen birch logs,
and the fresh smell of evergreen
    Where cotton trees seed a needled floor
and downy white tufts become a plush carpet
to soften a shoe’s tread
    Where listening to wind
blow through cedars and pines is like water
lapping on a far shore

And there to rest on glacier stone  to watch trilliums
    commingle with oaks  lady slippers
display their yellow shoes unaware that time
has disappeared.
    Where a hermit thrush threads
songs of praise among the trees its melodic
range weaving a loop of garland over draped branches
    To discover that breath is peace and nature
makes sense of our lives when we most need it

Mary Jo Balistreri has two books of poetry published by Bellowing Ark Press and a chapbook by Tiger's Eye Press. She has more recently been enjoying learning and writing haiku type poems. She finds it helps her see differently and experience life in a new way. For more information, please visit her at

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Around this Fire--By Laura M. Kaminski--United States

Around this Fire

"It's a rare privilege for commoners to dine with Kings
and Queen on this royal table of poetry." - comment from
Melchizedek, son of Michael

Melchizedek, we all sit around this same fire of poetry,
and in the dark there is no way to tell who's commoner,
who's king. But when a voice on this dark night cries
out for tatsuniyoyi, it then becomes incumbent upon
whoever has a story to stand up and convey it, whoever
has a drum or flute must play it, whoever has a poem
must stand up and recite it best they can, with sincere
appreciation for all the silent listeners, for each
one that stays awake, attentive to the end, for every
young one who finds within a lesson, for those elders
who nod wisdom, for each child that leaps up to dance.

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, and writes poetry in both English and Hausa. "Around this Fire" is part of her forthcoming poetry collection Dance Here (Origami Books, an imprint of Parrésia Publishers Ltd in Lagos, Nigeria); tatsuniyoyi means "stories" in Hausa

Grocery Shopping--By Jim Teeters--United States

Grocery Shopping

I push my cart down the aisle
my targets: laundry detergent,
French baguette, deli mustard
half pound sharp cheddar
but I see a small child
a shining face
his eyes dark cherries
the mother distracted
in her quest for pickled onions
maybe green olives
but this child
for a moment
claims my shopping heart
before I glide away
toward the dairy case

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.

Monday, October 26, 2015

To a Woman by Her Lover--By Wale Owoade--Nigeria

To a Woman by Her Lover

My woman wears her pudding well
ever faithful, ever knowing
one rod and one pestle
her anger lives in pointed fingers
and silent chuckles of grown stares.

My woman loves her lover well
but who else will love her
when she carries the
world’s troubles in her breast
yet missing so much in her heart?
When her body knows
the shape of shame?
When her thighs are twice
the size of guilt?

But my love for her is a kiss,
a kiss ever knowing that
kisses are external,
my love for her is a love
a love ever knowing that
love is internal

Wale Owoade is a Nigerian poet. His poems have been featured in Apogee Journal, The Bombay Review, Radar Poetry, Yellow Chair Review, The New Black Magazine and in several other journals in U.K, U.S, India, Russia, Canada, Bangladesh, South Africa and Singapore. He is the Publisher and Managing Editor of EXPOUND: A Magazine of Arts and Aesthetics. Wale is currently working on his full length poetry collection.

Changes--By Peggy Dugan French--United States


another airport goodbye is upon us . . .
you’re heading back to New York, where your heart is
our lingering hug will have to cement us until the holidays
that familiar feeling rises up within me . . .
eyes misty, I watch you ease through the security line
our final wave is faithfully shared
then I watch you bounce off to the next leg of your journey
remembering times when you bounced out the front door
so effortlessly, with an easy wave and smile
soon to return to me . . .
today is more poignant, brimming with remembrance and hope
my heavy heart swirls with the airport bustle
calculating the wide distance between us
but as you lift off into the welcoming sky
transporting your dreams to the next destination
my heart sails right along with you
still wishing I could make all your dreams come true

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.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Seasonal Dance--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States

Seasonal Dance

My garden window lets me know
That soon the autumn winds will blow.
Summer’s sweet dance will be replete
With wet days turning into sleet.

An abundant harvest. . . sublime,
With ripe fruits gathered just in time
Before light snow covers the ground
And hoar frost on the fence is found.

In shortening days, autumn’s breeze
Takes one’s breath in colorful trees.
Leaves, shivering, drift one by one
As they welcome the autumn sun.

Soon icy fingers cling to eaves
And the swirling dance of the leaves
Keeps time to earth’s harmonic song
As each season dances along.

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

The Way Home--By Alan McAlpine Douglas--United Kingdom

The Way Home

Elderly, she wanders, paths trodden aimlessly
between rare, short bursts of grandchild-focussed activity,
shopping for food, and day-time TV.

Her once discerning eye a wayward stare,
any spring of step long gone
replaced by vagueness of action, and of mind.

That chimerical thing, purpose in life,
is left faintly shimmering, but far behind
as one door closes after the other.

Ahead, a barely perceived sparkling,
pure gentle light, almost a something
to look forward to

as she vanishes, all that she leaves
is the faintest whiff
of lavender water .....

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.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

Featuring Young Writer--Molly Forrester--United States


black cat —
no bad luck until
Friday the 13th

forget-me-nots . . .
pull them out
and the new ones grow

Easter basket —
envious of what
she had

rainy season . . .
my mind
flooded with thought

super ball . . .
can't jump
as high

Molly Forrester is a 14 year old, 9th grader at the Loomis Chaffee School in Windsor, Connecticut. She is interested in writing, reading, drawing, playing the clarinet and cross country running. She wants to be a doctor and travel around the world.

Silent Cry--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

*Silent Cry

Eyes once bright as diamonds
are now as dark as coal.
A healthy beating heart now
skips and sputters, weighed down
by the confusion of what’s going
on. Continued night visits by this
monster that feeds on the fear of
those who are vulnerable and
unprotected. When will this stop?
When will someone help me? If
I say anything, I’m told no one
will believe me. Here comes the
monster again. I have to go now
and do what I am told. If I don’t
promises have been made to hurt
those I love. I’m silently crying.
Someone, please help me.

*Dedicated to someone I know who
experienced sexual abuse as a child. 

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:

Friday, October 23, 2015

Halloween Fright--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States

Halloween Fright

Dressed as Superman, ready to fly,
I Told my mom “just standby”.
Went up the steps all alone,
Rang the doorbell heard a moan.
A cackling sound to my right,
Witch on a broom in my sight.
Cape flowing and hand of claws
Reaching for me trailing gauze.
I cannot move, frozen stiff
Eyes wide, my heart makes a skip.
Off to my left snarling growls,
fury monsters on the prowl.
My feet came free with a howl,
My bellows roared with my scowl.
Down the steps, a blur in sight,
Passed my mom, a streak of light.
Home is where I want to be.
Halloween is not for me.

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 ""

Goodnight My Love--By Leokadia Durmaj--Australia

Goodnight My Love

I am so sorry for your pain my love,
It was not my intention to leave,
I tried so very hard but the angels came ~
It was my time to go, I kissed you goodbye
I felt your heartbeat and the love inside.

You came into my life at a time ~
When love was lost forever, all hope was gone,
All my trust disappeared through pain over many years
Your gentle loving heart breathed life into my soul.
No words did I speak, yet you understood through my tears.

If I could only spare you from this pain,
But I have no control except to love you
You are every dream I have dreamed
Loving you has been the most precious gift ~
You captured my heart; we are one in soul and spirit.

My spirit will always evolve lovingly within you,
Until the day when we can be together for all eternity;
If only one more day I could have stayed,
To hold you tenderly in my arms, please remember dear!
My love lives in every thought and memory we shared.

Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.

Thursday, October 22, 2015


Joann Grisetti, an accomplished writer, generously offered to be the activity editor for October.  She was gracious in thanking each contributor for sharing their ninette poems.  The criteria for the form follows--

The ninette starts with one syllable, then two, then three up to five, then decreases. Ninettes begin and end with the same syllable count for a total of nine lines.      

I would like to thank Joann for selecting these creative poems for publication and all the contributors that participated in this activity.  It is a growing experience to try new things and a pleasure to see so many wonderful poems below.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

                                            --Karen O’Leary, Whispers’ Editor


No Go

It won’t
Work out right
Just will not fit
The gap is too small
Should I make it
Bigger to
Fit tight

By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson


Go Stay

Do try
But just be
Careful that you
Don’t overdo it
Take it slowly
To make it
Tight to

By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson


the world sings
it cries no more
because of its pains
laughs and dances
just pretend
for now

By Jim Teeters


and pray
pray for me
pray for yourself
seek the brightest light
in the heavens
for healing
for health

By Jim Teeters


sordid day
I plod along
in a rut that grows
slowly deeper
up the

By Robert P. Hansen


scattered across
long-forgotten days
your guiding hand
the only
thing i’ve

By Robert P. Hansen



Is costly
Some families
Give more than others
Don't disrespect
Give thanks

By Shirley Smothers



Me often
The frustration
Of my life invades
My nightly dreams
I stay up

By Shirley Smothers


warm days of spring
builds her nest in the
evergreen tree
sings a song
home at

By Barbara Tate


and clouds of
a coming storm
are gone with the wind
in half darkness
the days are

By Barbara Tate


and strife...
that can flower
and enrich others.
Words like petals
uplift lives
and bring

By Karen O'Leary


love is
the one thing
that changes you,
shaping who you are,
and yet does this
so subtly,
it don't

By Emile Pinet


sky, that
reflects off
the blue river.
Distant rolling hills:
gently weaving
their paths of

By Ralph Stott


in the
sky, in a
hot air balloon.
The hurricane's path
is traced by the
trees that have

By Ralph Stott


eyes with
salty tears
flowing freely
my heart is breaking
trust this trial
for your good
my eyes

By Charlene McCutcheon


anxious and praying
answers come slowly
as hope springs up
faith grows and
love is

By Charlene McCutcheon


still waters

and stiller
these thoughts of mine
far in the sunset
the flamingoes
taking off
one by

By Raamesh Gowri Raghavan



the sun
on the rise
o'er the sea
is this yellowing
leaf yellower
in the bright
white of

By Raamesh Gowri Raghavan


pond reflects
orange yellow red
autumn trees’ glory
so brilliant now
then fading

By Kelley White


our cottage
tree branches creak
in the heavy wind
threatening all
huddling down
small scared

By Kelley White


friends are
so precious
like diamonds.
Always treasure them!
They’ll support you
every day
of your

By Jan Allison


rain pouring down
little by little
clouds pass away
sky turns blue
and then

By Elizabeth Howard


fierce voices call
fear overwhelming
I lie sleepless
till at last
comes the

By Elizabeth Howard


Over me
- a tsunami
Of pain that soon ebbs.
Cleansed, I embrace
Life with a
Dance of

By John Daleiden


it babe—
sheathed in silk,
she promenades
the Miracle Mile
amid the stark stares
of plain folk’s

By John Daleiden

shouts silent,
eternal sounds—
surging surf washing
my dreamless nights
into long,

By John Daleiden


missing her
carefree happiness
may be found yet
there is hope
for new

By Jack Horne


too short
to worry
we are meant to
love wholeheartedly
someone special
each moment

By Joann Grisetti


Unwelcomed Guest--By Mary A. Couch--United States

Unwelcomed Guest

That wasn’t there before on the sink,
there was just a saucer and coffee cup
when I came to the kitchen for a drink.
No thing of evil seated where I sup.
I need to do something to get it out,
look about for a trap or coffee can.
It moves at me, I back up with a shout,
reach out, try to grab my old frying pan.
It's too far away, the wild critter jumps,
then stares death at me and leaps to the floor.
I run, trip on the carpet, lose my pumps.
It chases past me and scurries to the door.
I gingerly approach... let it leave house
that tiny obnoxious terrifying mouse.

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.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Elton's Songs (Songetry Sonnet for Lainey)--By Michael Todd--United States

Elton's Songs (Songetry Sonnet for Lainey)

Sad songs say so much, or so speaks Elton;
Though really, does not have to be as such.
We all fall in love sometimes, with the one;
I need you to turn to; ask I too much?

Not all things constant, if the river can bend;
I'm still standing, whatever comes my way.
Love lies bleeding, but my heart you can mend.
Come down in time, and I'll meet you halfway.

Heartache all over the world, this is true.
I suppose the end will come at some time.
I've seen that movie too, what to do?
Duets for one lend only to sublime.

Breaking hearts is not what it used to be.
Goodbye doesn't seem right for you and me.

Note from writer: This is a songetry piece, made up from song titles and passages from Elton John & Bernie Taupin. It was written as a result from a poetry challenge to write a sonnet using song titles from a favorite artist. Elton John was the obvious choice for this writing exercise.

Michael Todd aka Myke Todd has been writing and posting stories and poetry on social networking sites since 2006. He can currently be found at his dedicated poetry site...

My Friend the Wind--By Paul Callus--Malta

My Friend the Wind

On the green bank beside the river
my senses leap and heart strings quiver.
I lay my head on nature’s pillow
and hear the wind blow in the willows.

I look above where clouds are sailing.
The fragrant scents I am inhaling.
The wind-strewn gifts strongly attractive,
they reach my soul and hold me captive.

In undertones the wind talks gently;
secrets unfold; he whispers softly
into my ears. Now fascinated
I close my eyes, intoxicated.

The friendly wind, contact established,
goes on his way, his job accomplished.

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.

It’s Called Ego--By Yancy Lee Dalton--United States

It’s Called Ego

Exists as imagination gone wild
Has no form, its mortally styled.
Fear or pride triggers its effect
Falsified natural mans intellect

Yet, it can reach up into the sky
Curb our appetites, when we try
Making us feel sick until we cry
Dear Lord please let us not die!

For our ego is on a death road
Shaping us twisted and bowed
Keeping us from knowing truth
The way we act is a sure proof

Thinking were better so sadly
Treating our fellows very badly
Is it possible we will ever learn
Love of fellows, non ego yearn

Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Autumn`s Journey--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

Autumn`s Journey

Hints of gold and glints of fire,
Super moons with hearts desire,
Shadows clinging, misty clouds,
Wet long grass with soggy shrouds.

Leaves that dangle from the trees,
Bright filled mornings, autumn breeze,
Birds that chatter, fill their beaks,
"Winter`s coming in some weeks".

Nature`s finished all she`s planned,
To her story, vision grand.
In green she`s born, in gold she`ll die,
When Geese shall fly across her sky.

Her fire emits her light within,
The knowledge she`ll again begin,
But first to sleep, so she must rest,
To give her new born seeds the best.

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.

Prisoner--By Tim Ryerson--United States


Send me back home where I truly belong
Cut the chains dear, please let me depart
Why does your brain keep replaying our song?
Let my melody drift to your heart

Making me haunt you is very unkind
I'm no ghost dear, please grant my parole
Why bottle me up inside of your mind?
Set me free to go dwell in your soul...

*For Vicki Lynn Perrin Ryerson, 10/25/1948 - 6/20/2008

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.”

Monday, October 19, 2015

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Mary Jo Balistreri--United States and Angelee Deodhar, India

Haibun : Bricolage

Prose--By Mary Jo Balistreri, USA
Title and haiku--By Angelee Deodhar, India

This morning, walking with the wind blowing, temperature below 50 degrees, I put my hand in the pocket of my old jacket only to find a piece of typing paper with a poem printed on it--God's Grandeur, by Gerard Manley Hopkins. Long ago, I used to type favorite poems to memorize on my walks. Here it was so I began reciting the lines of the poem again, putting them to memory. And the world was wondrous and I saw it flame forth like the shining from tin foil.

The leaves were living proof of the loving freshness and deep down goodness of things-chickadees singing two note melodies, a cardinal. Giving a fuzzy brown caterpillar my arm to ride on, its furriness tickled me. The tin foil that went out in the cold came back warm, blazing like a foil of gold.

crunching underfoot
the breakfast cereal
sounds of autumn

Bricolage : In literature, bricolage is affected by intertextuality, the shaping of a text's meanings by reference to other texts.

-silhouette of pale light--By Rick Parise--United States

-silhouette of pale light-

the curtain of torn promise
falls in a flood of darkness
forging amid confusion
searching a desolate path
the desperate vagabond
stumbles through the cold fortress
lost in the shadows of night

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

lifesong--By Su'eddie Vershima Agema--Nigeria


if life was fair
the bleating of goats would not be nuisance
nor our claps try to kill mosquitoes when they with music thrill
animals wouldn’t all go naked
lost in the wild, prey to predators
who feast on their innocence

if life was fair
plants wouldn’t be at the end
trampled on or turned to food
objects brought down
when life seeps through their souls
fibres that reach to the skies
swaying in praise…

if life was fair
we wouldn’t run to find fulfilment
in li(n)es that might never come true

each end sets a trend that creates a better end
sometimes not seen but always realized
when we believe…
everything worketh together for good

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 and can be reached at @sueddieagema on Twitter.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

White Spirit--By Marlene Million--United States

White Spirit

White entity dances at dawn.
Priceless, above compare, she prances.
Staccato pacing, silver-white power passes
near edge of rippling creek.

Limitless land unrolls ahead of mare
on her journey to high country.
Beyond the canyon, she climbs.
Closer to the summit, she stops,
snorts her approval.

Leaping into air, hooves slam down
upon the earth's dry sagebrush.
Aware of her territory, she rushes
the range amid high plain.

With a wild and restless spirit,
she races onward in contentment.
Silhouetted against the morning sky,
this pearl answers freedom's lure.

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.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Poet of the Month-- Marianne Szlyk

Travels with the White Ghosts

By Marianne Szlyk

As the two of them left the city,
flurries drifted onto the white car
like the ashes of a dozen term papers,
a hundred used books,
and a thousand letters from friends
burnt in a bonfire.

From the passenger’s seat,
she looked back.

He grinned and kept going.
This was another good-bye,
another sack or two
of mail returned to sender,
another adventure
in a half-lifetime of them.
Only this time he
was in the driver’s seat.

Together, the two of them inched
down the coast on back roads,
on dirt roads
through places where one could die.
They were escaping from a fire
down knotted sheets,
each one shorter than the last.

North of San Francisco,

they finally fell short,
landing hard in a small town.

Without him,
she rode the bus east,
leaving the white ghosts behind.

From the editor--It is a pleasure to announce that Marianne Szlyk is October’s Poet of the Month.  She is a talented, published writer and the editor of The song is...  Marianne is an encouraging voice at Whispers, posting thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  She participates in our community activities and has collaborated on a poem that was featured at our online journal last month. She encourages others to share in our Whispers community.  It is a joy to honor Marianne this month!

Thoughts on “Travels with the White Ghosts”--The intriguing title captured my attention right away, an asset for any poem.  The pace and the mystery of Marianne’s verse kept me wondering what was next.  Her skillful use of imagery provides a unique view.  It is a gift to share Marianne’s words with you!

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


Karen O’Leary, Editor

Changes--By Linda Hurdwell--England


I stare in awe and disbelief
The changing shades of just one leaf.
Green to start with, then rusty brown
Now red and orange as it flutters down
From the tree, it’s safe worldly home,
Before it falls and begins to roam.
A little leaf on a cold, windy day
Flies and tumbles in complete disarray
Time to experience of a different kind
Tossing and turning, helpless and blind
Until finally the leaf lands breathless and old.
Waits patiently to be – Mother Nature’s mould.

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.

Moonlight Visitor--By Molly Moore--United States

Moonlight Visitor

You've stolen silently into the room
And laid your silver gossamer down
Spinning it from some etheric loom
Creating iridescence all around.

I happen upon your aura there
And catch my breath in reverent awe...
A sacred feeling suffuses the air
And, loathe to intrude, I think to withdraw

But your soothing radiance beckons me near
To imbibe the sweetness of your presence
That seeps through this unearthly atmosphere
And whispers a hymn to my inner essence

Claiming Hawaii as her true home, Molly Moore is currently residing in Seattle, Washington, pursuing a nursing degree. Perhaps her previous career as an international flight attendant is what launched Molly’s "flights of fancy" into poetry. A love of rhythm and rhyme sparks her creative side, especially while outdoors in nature.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Why?--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada


Mystical halo around the moon
held in tangled arms reaching
drawing a gaze upwards
to a crossroad in the sky
puzzled, they quietly stood
on an island unto itself
shadows emerging on either side
no room left for reason
while the earth continued to turn
in its stunning silence...

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.

Royalty of the North--By James Rasmusson--United States

Royalty of the North

The Puffin…
Masters of sea, land, and sky;
flying in or out of water,
a pallet of red, yellow, black, and white,
fishers of the North Sea.

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.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Haiku & Senryu--By Shloka Shankar--India

briefly stepping into my shoes winter sun

donning a nom de plume my muse

moving day
marked downside up
a box of pillows

daylight savings
my biological clock
runs backwards

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.

Ambivalent Autumn--By Joyce I. Johnson--United States

Ambivalent Autumn

Audacious Autumn rushes in,
making her way on Summer's heels.
bringing along big pots of paints.
She instantly Summer's thunder steals.
Vivid hues and ripening fruits
are some of the gifts she brings to all,
lavishly bestowing them on
each of us as we worship fall.
Nodding with glee, she mixes blends,
Turning the greens to shades of brown.

As Summer fades, we wave goodbye,
utterly charmed by Autumn the clown.
Tenth month October takes her turn,
unlike ninth month, aloof and cool.
Mist, rain and wind are her late gifts.
Naughty Autumn plays game of fool.

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.

Monday, October 12, 2015

A Fallen Muse--By Brian Strand--England

A Fallen Muse

October's gilded glow..
a meditative illumination..
lemon not ..yellow.
Within and without the fading
light moves wraith-like to
and fro..
Upon the Autumn breeze..
the glory..and the regret..
as Summer's muse prepares
to go.

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.

Order My Steps--By Suzanne Clement--United States

Order My Steps

is an
anthem I’ve
heard a few times
at Sunday worship.
It’s called Order My Steps.

like it
because it
is a prayer
to God to teach me
the ways that He wishes
me to walk throughout my life.

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Haiku--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada

migrants in single file ...
strawberry fields stretch
one after another

plump with juice
her freshly picked grapes...
the smell of sunshine

winter twilight
the one-legged veteran faces
with a resolving door

wailing siren ...
an old man on the beach
in winter mist

hand-me-down dream
twilight laughter drifting
from the orphanage

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,

Wind Blows Softly upon My Soul--By Gerald Heyder--United States

Wind Blows Softly upon My Soul

The flutter of angel wings
causes a breeze
akin to wind that teases
the leaves on summer’s trees.
Oh, what a pleasure;
yes, it’s a treasure
to measure our faith
in divinity that is always
around and about
the vicinity that is the realm
in which we dwell
and fate will tell how well
we persist to exist
in this world we call home.
Oh, wind blow softly
upon my soul
for providence will control
my journey to heaven’s throne.
I’ll never be alone.

Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

There Still Is Time...By Terry O’Leary--France

There Still Is Time...

Though still within our infancy,
we strive and thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys the planet's harmony,
lays waste to life beneath the sea,
and all in name of vanity.

Who dares our spheroid's symmetry
by doubting Nature's regnancy
defying laws, like gravity,
affirms a fatal fallacy…

for, centered on the 'world of we',
we feed our vain insanity
on thoughts beyond eternity -
seems strange when looked at cosmically.

Perchance there is no remedy
for those in shadow's prophecy -
unless we handle skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

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

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

summer rain
on tin roof

playing piano
off key

soaring eagle
my puppy chasing
its shadow

fresh snow
dainty paw prints
the way home

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:

Friday, October 9, 2015

Featuring Young Writer--Anushi Varma--United States

Ode to my Friends

They're right behind me,
and in front of me.
A girl who introduced sports to me.
A girl who likes movies like me.
Our families are similar,
Yet we live a river of asphalt away.

I tasted their spiced "Fanta"
And I see a green iPhone and homemade crafts.
I smell fried bananas and hear their laughing and modern music.
The bark of a tame pet makes me alert.
I feel my fingers type up a text.

My smile expands when my friend spikes a balloon.
We discuss movies and shows and whisper our secrets.
We laugh at ourselves enjoying the fantastic life in front of us.
My friends are like my family.
Their influence gives me sunlight to brighten my day.

Anushi Varma is 11 years old and in 6th grade at Still Middle School. She is a voracious reader and very good at drawing, painting, craftwork and writing books and journaling. After 7 years at the piano, she has now taken up the ‘cello.

Spider’s...--By Jan Allison--United Kingdom

Spider’s exercise
Abseiling down silken threads
Moonlight casts shadows

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.

Bless Your Pea Pickin’ Heart--By Celine Rose Mariotti--United States

Bless Your Pea Pickin’ Heart

Bless your pea pickin’ heart,
That’s what Tennessee Ernie Ford
Would always say,
I watched his show religiously every day,
Back in 1965,
I’d come home from Kindergarten,
And turn on the TV,
To watch good ole Tennessee,
He was a good man with that great bass voice,
I loved to hear him sing “Sixteen Tons”,
“Red Roses for a Blue Lady” and many more,
I loved the wonderful stories he told,
Most of all I loved the way he ended the show,
“Bless Your Pea Pickin’ Heart!”

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.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Those Were the Days--By George L. Ellison--England

Those Were the Days

English rural country life
Hear church bells toll, See birds take flight
As I wander down the hedge-lined lane
Thinking of my youth again

Hurrying to do my chores
Then playing conkers with the boy next door
Staying out till fall of night, do I have to come in?
Yes, it’s bath-time, all right?

Until tomorrow, I’ll see you again,
All right, till then, I should go in.
Those were the days, when we’d run and hide,
We’d leave our doors open wide.

No one thought to rob you then,
There was nothing much to steal,
Unlike in this present day, 
When they’d take whatever they see.

I still look at the old days, through rose tinted glasses,
When the boys were the lads and the girls were the lasses.
If only the circle, could turn back again,
But unlike our successors, we can all but dream!

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!

Dust and Cobwebs--By Robert A. Dufresne--United States

Dust and Cobwebs

Cobwebs catching settling dust,
they save me much work.
Machinery showing rust,
a colorful quirk.

It’s all a total must.
It’s part of what is;
like a pie with a crust,
a soda with fizz.

One shouldn’t sweat the small stuff,
like a dust bunny under the bed,
or a golf ball in the rough.
They’re just cobwebs in one's head.

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 .

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Marlene Million, Alice Couch and Mary Couch--United States

Fairy Mist

By Marlene Million, Alice Couch and Mary Couch

Fairies dance amid autumn leaves.
Flitting gaily at dark of moon.
Enchantment floats, musical realm.
Wings a flutter, sparkling magic.

Opaque mist surrounds golden moon,
Wind whistles through aspen and oak,
Fairies join with orange flaming leaves,
Midnight reverie beneath orb.

Birch sway to ethereal music,
Tree frogs join in the serenade.
Wisps frolic about the woodland,
Fairies harvest autumn splendor.

Touch Wood--By Angelee Deodhar--India

Touch Wood

Coming to know that a friend’s brother has succumbed to cancer, I re-live my own loss, when the father of my son passed away three years ago with a secondary in the brain. I put on meditational music on my laptop and let the sound of ocean waves wash over me…distant gulls scream from another shore. Do those who leave us hear them?

art class--
a marble's path back
to kindergarten

Originally published in cattails, 2014

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).

An Autumn Night--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

An Autumn Night

On an autumn night, as I sat
beside a slow moving stream
I sensed the quickening steps
of autumn claiming once again
its place along summer trails.
In the gathering dusk,
I admired the soft diffusion
of colors melting into leaves.
The big September moon
and the stars fiery glow
deepened my admiration
for this glorious display
stretching endlessly across
God’s universe: an artistry
of flames against the dark.
How gratifying to hold for a little
while this beauty; and, how blessed
to be a part of autumn’s smells
and sounds, remembering the past,
when I was just a child.

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.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Distortions--By Ajise Vincent--Nigeria


Tonight, cherubs sit
mourning the decay of our present.
Truth's conscience craves
for the baptism of fire.
We are now an E-congregation
swallowed by the euphoria of modernism;
a generation encapsulated in the aura of villainy
for the sacredness of our cathedral
has been bartered for mammon
& demons who smoke cannabis
on the pulpit of sanctity.

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.

Chrysanthemums--By Alice Couch--United States


Flaming red mums fall over the flower-box edge,
reflected glory repeated in raindrops.
Copper mums in a kettle near the mailbox,
look like coins to pay the Autumn Harvester.

Pumpkin size football mums draw my eyes,
I gather blanket, seat for football game.
Surely autumn mums are enough,
all by themselves.

Alice Couch is a retired nurse’s aide who spends her days playing with her dogs, Nibby and Squeakie, while writing poetry for her three children, four grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren, and four great great-grandchildren.  One of her stories published in Living with Children. She studied yoga and Buddhism and has a gift for blending the rational approach of the Western mind with the deep spiritual wisdom of the east in her poetry. She was named Noblesville’s Senior Poet Laureate in 2012.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Autumn--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada


Emerald leaves of summer quickly disappear
    Autumn arrives as days draw short
    Leaves dance in the soft blowing breeze
As multicolored visions now appear
Waltzing ()~ ()
          () ~ () ()~()
            () ~ ()
they cascade to the ground
Twirling into disarrayed heaping mounds
Signalling closure to the season warmth
Autumn becomes laden with frosty mornings
Forewarning of the upcoming winters *** snow.* ***

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 and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.

Let's Talk About Cops--By Vernon Norris--United States

Let's Talk About Cops

They are "Citizens on Patrol",
That's what the word "cop" stands for,
They are people just like you.
They could be your uncle, your cousin, or your friend,
They could be your brother, your sister, or even your mother,
So if you are against ...C.O.P.s,
Take a look in the mirror and say:
"I'm against my uncle, my cousin, my friend,
my brother, my sister and even my Mother."
"Come on man get real!”
Take a look at yourself.
Who have you become?

Vernon Norris, age 56, was born and raised in Houston, Texas.  He works full time in the auto industry. Vernon has published work published in Conceit Magazine and the Ultimate Writer, specializing in silly, scary and inspirational poetry. He hopes to soon to release his first book. "I hope my writing will inspire you or make your day".

Sunday, October 4, 2015

The Lost Harbinger--By Edilson Afonso Ferreira--Brazil

The Lost Harbinger

I remember sounds and faces of my past,
love’s vows, hot hugs and flamed kisses.
Romantic nights and parties, best songs,
best friends, nostalgic life’s expectations.
But my beloved expectations always were,
year by year, the singing of a bird.
A pheasant cuckoo strong hammering
two potent whistles, that, by no error,
all of us by then so listened:
summer comes, summer comes!
It was single a cuckoo that every year
worked with peculiar trill to announce
oncoming days of most desired season.
We never saw but always heard its song
which only appears and sings once a year.
Its chant has been lost and our summer
has not ever been the same, without
that hammering dear beat.

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

Amplified Crayon--By JD DeHart--United States

Amplified Crayon

It's an electric word
in great green ink on
a great green grid,
emerald neon advertising
letters that strike
the mind and send
shock waves through life,
A word spelled carefully
on otherwise flat paper.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available from RedDashboard.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

A visit to Aunty Barbara in the 1950’s--By Philip David Noble--Scotland

A visit to Aunty Barbara in the 1950’s

Hair slicked down and shoes polished up by rubbing them on the back of the sock
of the opposite leg, we go up the stairs of the second storey close to the dark brown door with brass letterbox, and wait patiently.

At last the door is opened by a much thinner and frailer replica of my grandmother.

The dark hall smells of  linoleum polish as we follow her through to the back snug.
The  range, is still well blackened, and the heavy curtained alcove cupboard bed.
It seems so small. Could she really sleep in there?

Then the big treat. A small box of faded coloured wooden bricks with a sliding lid is ritually produced for us. The grown ups talk and talk and ­time drags. 

slowing down
in time with the ticking clock
little heartbeat
On this occasion we are allowed into the front room.
Dark and unappealing, except for the tiger skin draped over the back of the sofa.
Sent all the way from India by one of our adventurous forebears.

Duty done, the reward of a pan drop at the door and off to the farm and the animals

and the freedom of the Braes and the Windy Hills.

not yet autumn
purple flowers fade slowly
on the wallpaper

Philip David Noble was born in Aberdeen, Scotland in 1946. He is an ordained Scottish Episcopal priest, and a visual artist with qualifications in pure science, theology and storytelling.  He joined the British Origami Society in 1968 (, co-founded the International String Figures Association in 1978 (www,, and is a founder member the International Guild of Knot Tyers, ( and has been actively studying soap bubbles for over thirty years. Philip has given workshops and performances in UK and in over twenty countries worldwide. He has been writing haiku since 1996 several of which have appeared in various haiku publications but most regularly in Mainichi Daily News haiku column.

Harvest Time--By Eleanor Michael--United States

Harvest Time

A huge orange moon
hung over the horizon.
Horses, tired, drowsed
in their stalls, while
Mother milked the cows.
Supper was set to the back
of the stove.  The men folk
and children gathered
outdoors in the moonlight -
enjoying the warm, dry
weather - talking about
a bountiful harvest.

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

In Memory with Love--Beth Winchcombe--October 2, 2015--England

From Jack Horne--

I have some bad news which will sadden many of you. Yesterday (Friday 2nd October, around 3 pm) Beth Winchcombe, September's Poet of the Month, died at home in her husband's arms. She had a heart attack.

You all know she was a talented writer; she was also a gifted painter. I was close friends with Beth for many years and will miss her dreadfully. She was always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on and her advice was always sound. My nickname for her was Owlie, as in Wise Owl. The three qualities I loved best about Beth were her warmth, loyalty and sense of humour. I truly feel blessed that she was my friend.

Please also remember Beth's beloved husband Geoff in your prayers. They were the most devoted couple I've ever known. Soul mates is an overused phrase nowadays but it was apt for Beth & Geoff.

Goodbye, Owlie. I loved you so much. Rest in peace, my friend.

Always, Jack xxx


The Candle Has Gone Out

By Beth Winchcombe

Another day,
Another night,
Will it be dark?
Will it be bright?
Love the day,
Love the night,
Enjoy each day,
Enjoy each night,
For life is like a candle
That one day will burn out,
It does not burn forever,
One day it will go out.


Dear Whispers Family,

It is with sadness, Jack and I share this tribute to her.  Beth embraced the Whispers community, supporting and caring about others with her kind heart.  She was a blessing in my life.  Beth shared her gift of words for monthly activities, collaborative poems, individual poems, and uplifting comments for other writers.  She was our September Poet of the Month, an honor she richly deserved.  Above is the poem she submitted for October, a fitting good-bye for a talented artist and wonderful person.  She touched my heart.  Geoff and Jack, accept my sympathy.

Love you, Beth,


Friday, October 2, 2015

Eternity...--By Sanju Clement--India


In the end,
only one thing

you are not living
in Heaven or Hell
but in this planet

and Earth has always
wanted and unwanted
good and bad

what matters to you?

what are you waiting for ?

time is ripe, in order for you to not to lose
good and wanted things and beings in life
just remove bad and unwanted
things and beings . . . . . . .

you don't need them in the heart
of your peacefully growing mansion

of the Eternity!

of the Life, Love and Soul !

Sanju Clement is a writer from Kerala, India.

Change--By Sara Kendrick--United States


As the fog rises from the vale
Reaching upwards to the sky
And crickets sing their song
Thoughts leave the port and fly

Fly away thoughts to years gone by
When times were nostalgic
Great-granddaddy had hopes and dreams
Which were weighted not magic

Placed in the raging streams and gone
Like winds flush the chaff
What were those hopes for the future
Thoughts like up and down graph

As a golden ball breaks through clouds
An eerie gold radiance
The sun pierces the fog's hold on nature
Revealing change in cadence

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. 

Thursday, October 1, 2015

No GPS, Map or Postcode--By Annie Jenkin--England

No GPS, Map or Postcode

This journey I am on... is a lonely road,
there is no GPS, map or postcode,
I am travelling light to lessen my load
I can almost touch the sides within my world.
The brightness swings from dark to light;
Some areas of thought are locked up tight.
The depth of which are still a mystery
and, as yet, I don’t have a master key.
At times and for reasons unknown,
I must travel this route alone.

Please don’t worry if I appear withdrawn,
in my own way I am seeking shelter
and trying to work out how to get better.
I am pushing against personal boundaries
Yet on occasion... I seem to be chasing shadows.
However, along the way I have been blessed;
With sources of friendship and helping hands,
who patiently give time... without making demands.
They have propped me up when I have been blue,
To these friends I will always be true.

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.

dream streets--By jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States

jani johe shared her unique style and insight which left readers in awe.  But more importantly, she was a bright light in the writing community, always ready to support others in their journeys.  I am glad to have been able to call her my friend.  Her words live on in various publications, continuing to be a gift to the world.                                                                                           Sincerely, Karen O’Leary--Editor

dream streets

i am walking
dream streets
seeing hope
    at every corner
walking into
    this land of wonder
where there is no time
and imagination comes to welcome me
to the land of glimmering crystal stars
    and moonbeams that laugh and smile
    illuminating the magical path

This poem was recently published in Where the Poems Dance, a collection of her poetry and photography by Suzanne Webb.  It includes an introduction by her daughter, Nila Webster, and reflection questions about the poems to stimulate the imagination of the reader.


            Don Beukes--United Kingdom
            James Diaz--United States
            Darren Watson--United Kingdom
            Kay Cheshire--United States

Please welcome them to our community.  We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Brazil, 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 for guidelines. Thank you.

Note--Ads due for the November column by October 25


Scott Thomas Outlar runs the site 17Numa where links to his published poetry, essays, and fiction can be found. The site also features a page devoted to literary publications which currently has nearly 150 venues listed. The blog’s page at 17Numa has links to the personal sites of other writers and artists, and has been designed with the hope that artists from all fields will check out and be inspired by the work of their contemporaries.

Angelee Deodhar's, Journeys 2015, An Anthology of International Haibun, with 145 haibun by 31 poets, is due for release on 15th October at the Haiku North America Conference in Schenectady, New York. Available in both Kindle and print formats, it can be preordered from or contact Angelee at

Beth Winchcombe announces her novel, For LOVE of Maria: A compelling love story. This is currently available in paperback on, also priced at £7-99p. Kindle version to download for just £2-00p. Published by Diadem Books, Author name Beth Richards.

Ron Larson released a book of poetry called Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales Outlined in Rhyme. More information regarding the book is available from or

Russell Sivey has published a poetry book called Halloween Horrors II. This book can be purchased at, 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:

Jack Horne announces the release of his second novel, Cyber Vamps: a paranormal-fantasy romance. This book is currently available from, price $3.99

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  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,

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: 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:

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

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

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 (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at


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:, 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, blog site is

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

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.

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  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.