Invitation to Join in an Ongoing Thread of Celebration and Editor's Thoughts--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

Our online journal/poetry community is about 15,000 away from the 200,000 view mark.  That is a tribute to our talented contributors and all of you that offer words of encouragement to others. This has been and is such an uplifting experience for me and hope it is for you, too.

     True Color

Encouragement is a white

tulip in spring.

It does not pretend

to boast vivid, rich hues.

In its simple beauty,

it displays what it is.

I feel it is fitting that we celebrate by sharing uplifting poems, words of encouragement and other thoughts that are uplifting and inspirational in an ongoing thread.  Please post what you would like to share in the comments section.  We are many parts joining together to make this poetry family that enriches the lives of others.  Thank you all so much!

Many blessings and best wishes,

Karen O’Leary

Whispers’ Editor

Magical Moonlight - A Pantoum--By Jan Allison--United Kingdom

Magical Moonlight - A Pantoum

I watch moonbeams dance on an inky sea

Clouds drift on by, oh how the moon does shine

Moonlight shadows always fascinate me

This ever-changing scene is so divine

Clouds drift on by, oh how the moon does shine

As I stroll down to the sea late at night

This ever-changing scene is so divine

Stars are twinkling, giving celestial light

As I stroll down to the sea late at night

I’m captivated by such stunning skies

Stars are twinkling, giving celestial light

Until the morning sun begins to rise

I’m captivated by such stunning skies

Moonlight shadows always fascinate me

Until the morning sun begins to rise

I watch moonbeams dance on an inky sea

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.

Dawn’s Early Light--By Lisa DeVinney--United States

Dawn’s Early Light

The shadows of the night are fading fast;

The light of a new dawn is stealing in.

The earth will not turn back upon the past;

But forward to a new day it will spin.

The tears of sorrow’s night will fall away,

Brushed gently by God’s tender, healing hand;

As joy is ushered in with this new day

Which dawns upon the soul, at His command.

The long, cold night of weeping is behind.

A day bathed in the Son now lies before.

And once again, His promises remind

Of blessings that the Father has in store.

Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at liftingmyeyes.com

A puppet show--By Sunil Sharma--India

A puppet show

On a summer evening

A puppet show, corner of

A large compound emptied of cars/bikes

On that hour, for that special show,

Demonstrates the power of narrative

And of the painted faces, silken clothes, huge

Khol eyes.

How wood undergoes a change

And characters come alive!

How deft fingers and voices manipulate the medium and audience.

It reminds me of a happy childhood in a small town, decades ago.

Now, the puppet show is extinct like the Dodo

As there is no childhood or open space in a high-rise!

Sunil Sharma is a writer based in Mumbai, India. A college principal, he has published four books of poetry, two books of shorts and a novel in English, apart from co-editing six literary anthologies.  He edits Episteme: http://www.episteme.net.in/   

Poetry Moments--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

dead, we’ll lie together

beneath a comforter

of healthy green grass

learning what we’ll need

from earth and bare root

___________________

a blue heron calls

upon the shores of daytime

churning genesis

___________________

finely-honed tools

gentle hands and gentle voice

weather-worn grandma

___________________

ayaz daryl nielsen, a veteran, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs) and hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/125+ issues), homes for his poems include Lilliput Review, Cattails, High Coupe, Shamrock, Scifaikuest, Shemom, Whispers… and! online at bear creek haiku poetry, poems and info (translates as joie de vivre)

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

Another Crossroads

Yes or No?

Do we stay, or do we go?

Another crossroads in our life,

Another thought, another strife!

We ponder again,

Questions still remain,

Be it yes, or be it no!

To stay as we are, or have a go!

The unanswered question in our minds

Will solve itself! Give it time.

Dear Whispers Family,

It is a pleasure to share another poem in tribute to Beth. Sadly, we said good-bye to her in October of 2015.  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. She touched my heart. Thank you, to her husband, Geoff, and Jack Horne for allowing me the honor of publishing this poem.                                   –Karen O’Leary, Editor

Lady’s Slipper and Lambs’ Tongues--By Maralee Gerke--United States

Lady’s Slipper and Lambs’ Tongues

Scrambling up through the

field of spring beauties, I broke twigs

on the scrub oaks, collected cockleburs on my pant legs,

and risked poison oak, until

at the edge of the forest I collapsed at the base of the crippled maple.

One limb flung out near the ground as broad as our milk cow,

covered with thick chartreuse moss and lacy licorice root ferns.

Straddling the limb, I lifted the moss and tore out the root:

a taste of anise, wild and tangy in my mouth.

I was as wild as the flowers, that

grew in profusion amid the grass and moss.

I picked Johnny-jump-ups, Lambs’ Tongues, and the elusive Lady’s Slipper.

Back down the hill I ran, hands full of half-wilted wildflowers.

My proffered nosegay plopped in a canning jar of water on

the windowsill above the kitchen sink.

Looking back, I know I’ve been separated too long from

the geography of my childhood,

and now I venture beyond the garden fence with

trepidation and longing to be somewhere more tame.

Maralee Gerke lives and writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown Café. She recently recorded 4 poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at oregonpoeticvoices.org One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts.

My Stardust Dream--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands

My Stardust Dream

With the suns passage going down
Twilight blends my mind to dream
Of gently walking through the town
With a vanilla ice cream

My stardust dreams then lead me on
Like an airbrushed melody
My spirit walks with all weight gone
I feel light as light can be

I dance to a moonlight melody
Mystic tendrils fill the air
Then something seems to waken me
Wishing I was still there

Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s daughter, the only girl among 6 lads. A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18.  Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters.  Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents.  After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently.  She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.

Poetry--By Shirley Smothers--United States

Your Note Broke My Heart

I carry the note

You sent dismissing our love

As a reminder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your Heart and Your Soul

Writing poetry

Takes more than pen and ink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Gert Knop--Germany and Jack Horne--England

Awakening

(English, German and Spanish)

By Gert Knop and Jack Horne

Easter Monday

A cool day in March

Forlorn the Mandau*

Some birds' songs from a distance

A picture of heavenly peace

Der Ostermontag

Ein kühler Tag im Märzen

Einsam die Mandau

Von Ferne Vogelgesang

Ein Bild himmlischer Ruhe

Lunes de Pascua

Un día fresco en marzo

Solo el Mandau

Canto depájaros de la distancia

Una imagen de paz celestial

           ~~~~~~

people go to church

and children eat candy eggs

joy on Easter morn

as the first newly hatched chick

leaves the darkness of the shell

Leute gehen zur Kirche

und Kinder essen Schokoeier

Freude am Ostermorgen

als das erste frisch geschlüpfte Küken

das Dunkel der Schale verlässt

la gente va a la iglesia

y los niños comen los huevos de chocolate

alegría en la mañana de Pascua

como el primer pollito sale del huevo

dejando la oscuridad del cascarón

* the Mandau river is close to Gert's home

Limerick--By Charlene McCutcheon--United States

There once was a fat lady named Suzie.

Her new eating habit was a doozy;

stopped eating altogether,

became light as a feather,

flaunted herself and died a real floozy.

Charlene McCutcheon is a 73 year old, wife, mother of seven, grandmother of thirty and great-grandmother of 14. She has just discovered her voice through poetry within the last few years. Her former ways of expression have been through the media of arts and crafts. Her desire to share herself with others for their benefit has been the motivating factor in all her endeavors. She loves life, work, play and most of all people. 

My children will never know--By Pediatrician Kelley White--United States

My children will never know

the pleasure of hopping past cow pies dried

gray in the flowering meadow, coming

close enough to lay their foreheads against

the cows’ scratchy hair. The smell of clover,

of meadow, of milk, of a sky over

the little creek behind the neighbor’s fence,

nor feel the sound of the bees’ gold humming

nor the spit flick of a grasshoppers’ fried

buzzing in a newly hayed field. No toads

startling fly-flopping from a damp crevice

in a split pile of granite. No frog’s eggs

in a milk bottle, no pollywogs legs

appearing, tadpole tails at their service,

nor even silence, a forgotten road.

Pediatrician Kelley White worked in inner city Philadelphia and now works in rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in journals including Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.

Rebirth--By Katt Gold--Canada

Rebirth

The trees are full,

Rain has stopped.

Sun's come up

Moon's gone down.

Flowers have bloomed

My heart's refreshed

Soul renewed.

Warm droplets cling to newly leafed trees.

Dropping slowly onto the thirsty blades of new grass.

My eyes are open,

Mind at ease.

I feel you close

The atmosphere is electric,

Highly charged and ready for a connection.

The rebirth of Mother Nature in a beautiful place.

Katt Gold is a writer and poet from Canada's beautiful and inspiring East Coast. 

Memories of Love--By Adam Levon Brown--United States

Memories of Love

I never wanted you to leave

but it seems it was in your cards

Pain has dulled to a cool numb after

all of these years

I sit and remember the laughs we had

and the times we shared

It bites at my core, the way we became I

and I became something I didn't even recognize

Broken promises and broken dreams

led to a full heart and a new, better dreams

But I still remember the times where I

thought you were everything

I experienced the sharpest pain I have ever felt

and greater joy than I had ever imagined possible

I made it through the paradoxical maelstrom

that is first love

Adam Levon Brown is a poet and student residing in Eugene, Oregon. He enjoys the outdoors, playing with cats, and meeting new people. He runs a blog at www.AdamLevonBrown.com

“E” is for Emotions--By Emile Pinet--Canada

“E” is for Emotions

When daddy gives you a big kiss

as he lifts you up high above

and then squeezes you oh so tight,

well, my dear, that feeling is love.

Remember when the lights went out

and you couldn't hold back a tear,

those scary thoughts that filled your head

are the best description of fear.

When you were told the dog was lost

you found it difficult to cope,

yet you still believed he'd be found,

that feeling is what we call hope.

Remember when your friend's bike broke

and you had none he could borrow,

you became very sad inside,

that emotion is called sorrow.

When you get up on Christmas day

to discover a brand new toy,

and you feel so happy, well that

wonderful feeling is called joy.

Emile Pinet was born in a small city, (Bathurst) New Brunswick, Canada, the third eldest of thirteen children, ten girls and three boys. He is the product of a semi-dysfunctional family, brought up by a physically abusive and controlling father, versus a loving, nurturing mother. Many of his poems reflect the uniqueness of nature, which he loves, and his poetic observations of life in general. Emile is 66 years old and has been writing poems since he was about 35. The ideas started to come to him rapidly one day at work-- he decided to write them down and express himself through his poetry.

Treasured and True ~ A Kyrielle Sonnet--By Colleen Keller Breuning--United States

Treasured and True ~ A Kyrielle Sonnet

My fingers grasp to hold on tight

Clouds descending in pink twilight

Like fine grains of sand passing through

Moments like these, treasured and true.

Night comes on bearing shades of gray

I watch the colors fade away

Reflecting in the sea so blue

Moments like these, treasured and true.

Sweet mockingbird, sing me to sleep

And push my sorrows way down deep

Sustain memories, start anew

Moments like these, treasured and true.

My fingers grasp to hold on tight

Moments like these, treasured and true.

Colleen Keller Breuning is a poet and photographer who was born and raised in Maryland. She currently resides in Purcellville, Virginia. Her poetry, short stories and photography have been published in a variety of print and online magazines during the past decade. Her first poetry book, Shadows of My Father, was a tribute to her father and published in 2011. She is currently working on her second book of poetry, along with assorted photography projects. She participates in several online writing groups. In addition to poetry and photography, she loves nature, music, cats and wine (not necessarily in that order).

WHISPERS’ MARCH SPECIAL ACTIVITY—FROM LONDON AIRPORT

This Month's activity was to read the poem 'London Airport' and compose a poem, of no more than six lines, that you would put into the 'literature bin'!

**********************************

London Airport

Last night in London airport

I saw a wooden bin

labelled UNWANTED LITERATURE

IS TO BE PLACED HEREIN.

So I wrote a poem

and popped it in.

The poem was written by Christoper Logue, born 1926, and appeared in the POEMS OF THE UNDERGROUND, first published in 1991. The underground system for London, started publishing a whole variety of works, in the small advertising spaces in the carriages.

**********************************

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

Our talented, Ralph Stott, did an amazing job putting this activity column together.  His thoughts and grouping of poems enhance this reading experience.  Thank you, Ralph!!  I would also like to thank all of our contributors for sharing their creative experiences.  If you missed the deadline, or would like to add another poem, please share them in the comments section. I hope you enjoy this column as much as I did.  

                                                 --Karen O’Leary, Whispers’ Editor

**********************************

The Big Bellied Bird

(In a new Light)

(haiku)

grounded

straight line winds possible tornados

maybe

By Barbara Tate

We Are Experiencing a Little Turbulence . . .

The plane rattled and

bounced as if it was

being battered by

a jackhammer

on steroids.

By Robert P. Hansen

**********************************

Waiting

We sat on the runway awhile

had us lined up single file

I read War & Peace

will miracles cease

not moving, not even a mile.

By Barbara Tate

Time

I never

have time enough

to get started

on all that I want to do ...

my idling time

is what I'm best at

By Anne Curran

**********************************

Take-off

The wheels of this plane

Have but changed my fate

A thousand miles from home

Travelling back to the dome

The sun shines a topaz hope

On the sky's upward slope

By Sheikha A.

Seashells and spiders

cockle shells fall

from a cobweb-shrouded

wind chime hanging

from her washing line

letting go of memories

of summer romance at the beach

By Anne Curran

**********************************

Big Bellied Bird

The big bellied bird

lowered her tongue,

swallowed us whole,

screeched in satisfaction.

Powerful wings lifted her into the sky.

Five hours until we land.

By Lenora Rain-Lee Good

a poem from Ken…

Nocturne of shadow

rising with a Flamingo

into a reddish haze

a flight from Gibraltar

now drifting on down

London! here we are!

By Ken Allan Dronsfield

**********************************

Flight to Irian Jaya

An old Piper plane

holes in the bottom

best view to the jungle

a one life experience

By Gert W. Knop

Terra firma, where are you?

One hand on my stomach,

one clamped over my mouth,

and too many people belted into

this bucking propeller plane––

By Marjorie Rommel

**********************************

The Bus Depot

Grey Hound

Waits for no one

A rented box contains

Smart phone, credit cards, love poem

Transport

By Sara Kendrick

The Note

Compost

Bin held the note

Written in poetic form

Love poured out upon the blank page

Decayed

By Sara Kendrick

**********************************

From Caracas and Back Again

we ascend to explosive bursts

circle, fuel flowing over the wings

praying to avoid a closer walk--

emergency vehicles await our return

we kneel, kissing the ground

café con leche brings us around

By Elizabeth Howard

From São Paulo to Atlanta

the elderly Brazilian across the aisle

raises her forefinger and smiles

a nine hour night, cold and cramped--

disembarking, her in a wheelchair

she grasps my hand, a kiss on the cheek

an embrace, all the words we cannot speak

By Elizabeth Howard

**********************************

The Vicissitudes of Modern Air Travel

I relax and sip my martini cruising at 40000 feet.

If only my bags arrive with me, all will be complete!

I arrive in Tokyo and watch the carousel go 'round and 'round.

Although it made many circuits, my luggage could not be found.

Here I sit forlorn in the terminal in Tokyo, Japan.

Alas, my shirts and drawers ended up in Kyrgyzstan!

By Robert L. Hinshaw

Finding Light

To travel light

I cast burdens off

They deny our flight till night

We find darkness stretch

As sleep delivers us to arrive

Dawn's edge with peace and smiles.

By Su'eddie Vershima Agema

**********************************

Every Second

Heathrow

Airshow!

By Brian Strand

Crowded Skies

Can't hear

I fear!

By Brian Strand

Third Runway?

No Way

We say!

By Brian Strand

cup of juice

free bag of peanuts

airline treat.

By David Fox

Airline Seats

Now can it be true, or just a whim.

"Did I hear the middle seat cry, SLIM."

By Mary A. Couch

**********************************

Third Runway?

No Way

We say!

By Brian Strand

Haiku

birds with silver wings

soar across the azure sky

land on concrete lake

By Mary A. Couch

**********************************

~Tarmac~

Morning mist

hazy, lazy sun

taxi on down

tarmac dance

takeoff done.

By Ken Allan Dronsfield

Twin Towers (twister)

Through the clear towering sky.

Through their fall, the clear, deep-blue, towering sky remained.

By Ralph Stott

**********************************

Last Rejection at London Airport

ink smears with tears…stinging

remarks about my poetry awards

from a father who never cared

~~no more~~sliding my poem

for Father’s Day into the unwanted

bin, I buy a one-way ticket home

By Karen O'Leary

               *****

is it time

for branded literature, arranged,

to be traded only

and those pure from heart and soul

to be thrown into the waste bin of time?

By Aju Mukhopadhyay

**********************************

Landing

The wings of Icarus are real

Stiff on the white body of steel

Shuffle, hustle, voices rustle

Bags, cases and bodies bustle

The eagle lands on summer land

Paper fans held in dainty hands

By Sheikha A.

        ******

last minute raise

through deep drifting clouds

pale faces of passengers

By Gert Knop

**********************************

Waiting for a seat—

passenger in front of me

crams cymbals in the overhead bin.

By Kelley J. White

Crowded Skies

Can't hear

I fear!

By Brian Strand

Pediatrician:

I always choose the aisle with

a crying baby.

By Kelley J. White

**********************************

ETA:  Two Hours

This poem is silly.

This poem is bland.

It’s just time I’m killing

 while waiting to land.

By Robert P. Hansen

            ****

Flying

Into Kowloon

Past skyscrapers

Tall narrow streets

Man in top hat

By Ralph Stott

**********************************

First and Last Flight

as Icarus was falling fast,

he landed on a jet:

but then he tried a para jump-

they haven’t found him yet.

By Jack Horne

What if the Wright brothers had developed Aviophobia?

France to England: *Bleriot-rowed……………….Voila!

By Jack Horne/Ralph Stott

*Louis Bleriot, first person to fly the English Channel.

**********************************

Notes on arrangements:

All the poems work really well on their own. I’ve paired up authors and poems, in the edit: as each work complemented, each gave extra substance to the other author.

Barbara Tate/Robert  P. Hansen--I loved the contrast here of a similar experience. You can imagine them sitting next to each other on the plane!

Barbara Tate/Anne Curran--I liked putting together the frustration of ‘idling’ and the acceptance of this ‘idle time’, whilst the plane idles along!

Sheikha a. /Anne Curran--Something from Sheikha’s flight, changed the author’s fate? I put this together with Anne’s memory of a ‘beach romance’ with the uplifting tone and positivity of Sheikha’s soar!

Lenora Rain-Lee Good/Ken Allen Dronsfield--The imagination of Lenora’s bird was picked up on, by Ken’s parallel flamingo. Brilliant!

Gert Knop/Marjorie Rommel--Were they on the same flight! Great fun putting these poems together.

Sara Kendrick--Sara’s work worked with the link of the love poems in a steel box (rented)/decayed in a bin.

Elizabeth Howard--A stillness, in the heart of this activity poem: ‘all the words we cannot speak’.

Robert L. Hinshaw/ Su'eddie Vershima Agema--A ying-yang combination of talent here. Enjoyed the pairing of the two emotive responses to travel.

Brian Strand/David Fox/Mary A. Couch--This is a new form of short verse, as a trilogy, from Brian. There is some comfort: I have paired with David’s meagre reward! Meagre treats, followed by ‘slim seats’ from Mary’s poem.

Brian Strand/ Mary A. Couch--I have taken Brian’s march of protest and on its passage through the poem, linked arms with Mary’s haiku. The reference to the concrete lake is formidable for both works.

Ken Allen Dronsfield/Ralph Stott--I’ve paired Ken’s trust of flight with a horror; but hope and trust will never die.

Karen O'Leary/ Aju Mukhopadhyay--These two poems, speak volumes, a ‘branded’ and ‘personal’ juxtaposition?

Sheikha A. Gert Knop--I enjoyed Gert’s trepidation of clouds and pale faces with the noise and bustle of Sheikha’s ‘eagle’….ending with such a good final image of ‘dainty hands’.

Kelley J. White/Brian Strand/Kelley J. White--I’ve sandwiched ‘Crowded Skies’ with cymbals and crying babies.

Robert P. Hansen/Ralph Stott--I’ve match Robert’s ‘sillyness’ with the image of the topped hatted man. A good way to finish, without taking ourselves too seriously!

Jack Horne/Ralph Stott--Optional ending on a nonsense-collaborative!

**********************************

The edit, also follows loosely: the ground poems, before take-off, then up in the air, landing and back to earth!

I hope you like the work I have done, and agree with the format? My review notes are purely my opinions and trust they exemplify the huge talent, that the good people of Whispers have trusted me with.

Kind regards,

Ralph Stott

Whispers’ March Activity Editor