Editor's Thoughts/With a Pen’s Magic--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

I reached into the archives for this poem that shares so much about my journey with all of you.  You are beacons of the light, with a chance to make the world a better place.  Joining together our light becomes bigger…brighter…

This community is about each of you and the joy you add to others’ lives.  So many people have emailed me about the quality of the poetry and the sense of belonging to something that matters.

And with our words…we kindle the lights and embrace others. That is spirit of Whispers, the reason why each one of you matter.  Thank you for your encouragement and support.

Blessings in the light,

Karen

Whispers’ Editor

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

With a Pen’s Magic

Writers help others experience the world…

Through sight…painting pictures of a sunset

            the beauty of a tulip, and the majesty

            of snow-capped mountains in summer.

Through hearing…capturing the magic

            in cascading water, the peace of harp

            music, and the joy in a child’s laughter.

Through taste…savoring the richness of coffee, 

            the delight of a Thanksgiving dinner,

            and the pleasure of milk chocolate.

Through smell…delivering the fresh scent

            of spring rain, the aroma of baking

            bread, and fragrance of a new book.

Through touch…transferring the breath

            of the wind, hands linked in sorrow,

            and the feel of a warm embrace.

…and jot on paper what others rush by.

Chicken Soup--By Jim Teeters--United States

Chicken Soup

I’ve boiled the bones of 

baked and eaten chicken

                now cooled

reach into the pot

peel away the meat-remains

notice the intricacies of these 

                softened bones

woven together from a gooey

inner egg, grown into this

                marvelous creature

with brain enough to have known

how to live the chicken-life

                we’ll eat

                at suppertime

this God-created creature

                delicately formed

turned into tasty, healthy soup

                for our living

for this it died--

                our yummy gratitude

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.

Tea and Sympathy--By Maralee Gerke--United States

Tea and Sympathy

                      (for Glennis and Glenda)

Chairs set on freshly mowed grass

the dew barely dry.

A small table set with handmade

placemats and mismatched cups.

Clean washing snaps to and fro on the line.

My friends bring sandwiches

and a pot of fragrant tea from the house.

They know my heart is troubled and hover like

older sisters (even though I am only a year younger)

The brew steams with soul healing heat.

I relax into my chair and listen to them

tell their lives while

they support mine.

Tea and friends,

my heart feels the beginning of change.

My face lifts to the warm autumn sun.

Kindness, Simplicity, Humanity,

served in a porcelain cup.

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.

An Outcast’s Tears--By Shelly Blankman--United States

An Outcast’s Tears

Her children play knee-deep

in a stream’s spitting dares

to skip stones, their lives

measured in laughter and abandon;

stones that don’t skip,

and one that finally does.

Their mother stands alone,

her burnt gold burka, beaded

with pearls that glisten in the

midday sun like tiny roses

dipped in dew. I join her in

silence, not certain what to say.

My daughter cries every day, she

whispers; her friends want her

to go back where she belongs.

I felt incredibly white just then.

A little girl knows is what she is told.

She doesn’t know her home is here.

Shelly Blankman and her husband, Jon, are empty-nesters who live in Columbia, Maryland with their 4 cat rescues. They have two sons Richard, 31, of New York, and Joshua, 30, of San Antonio. Shelly's first love has always been poetry. Her poetry has been published by Ekphrastic: writing and art on art and writing as well as Visual Verse, Silver Birch Press, and Verse-Virtual.

A Memorable African Experience--By Ndaba Sibanda--Saudi Arabia

A Memorable African Experience

I feel playful today, Island please provide me

with some water sports. For magnificent dishes

can I please have a fusion of Creole and Chinese

and Indian and European flavour? I will tuck

into seafood whilst listening to Sega music!

I guess mountain trekking wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I promise, I shall go hunting and birdwatching.

My stay here will be characterised by visiting

the luxurious shopping malls and picking up

a souvenir or two. What an African destination!

Sightseeing pleasure is in store for me in the form

of breathtaking horse-racing tracks, mountains, parks

and botanical gardens. This is the turquoise Indian Ocean.

Mauritius, with your year-round sunshine, your white beaches,

your beach parties, your scenery—you make my vacation meaty.

Ndaba Sibanda is a Zimbabwean-born writer. His poems, essays and short stories have been published in Africa and the USA. Ndaba currently lives and teaches in Saudi Arabia. Of his career, he says, "writing is my life, and my second wife".

Golden Moonbeam--By Blanca Alicia Garza--United States

Golden Moonbeam

Like leaves in Autumn
tears fall from my eyes
your name written gently
upon every one.
Missing you my heart
shall forever cry
until my final breath
has come and gone.
Four Autumns have passed
since you're gone away
to that wondrous world
of cherished dreams.
I'll see you once more
at the end of my days
and meet you there
a flash on a golden moonbeam.

Blanca Alicia Garza is a published poet from Las Vegas, Nevada.  She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the new Poetry Anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, now available at Amazon.com. Other published work can be viewed www.winamop.com   

Autumn Alchemy--By Langley Shazor--United States

Autumn Alchemy

The air is cool
Morning sun casting shadows
Without heat
Could almost be mistaken for its pale counterpart
Luminous orbs
Celestial street lamps
Irradiated pathways
Rays and beams
Traipse through leaves
Plodding across terrestrial plots
Broken into slivers
These minute rails
Made of gold and silver
Lace mortars and pestles
To combine cinnamon, sage, and citrus
Magically warming the senses
Dispersed by the breeze
Flowing through this perennial apothecary

Langley Shazor was raised in a small city in southwest Virginia. As an adult he has a deep appreciation for culture, arts, wellness, history, philosophy, science, and religions. An avid reader, he is an advocate for education; breaking down stereotypes, creating social awareness, enlightenment, human rights, and helping those less fortunate are his life's passions. Writing is not only personally therapeutic, but a medium for which he has the opportunity to impart positivity on those from all walks of life.

standing...By Thomas Canull--United States

standing in glass shards

afraid of trying to move

screaming at the walls

_____________

valleys exist to cast light

on the peaks

Thomas Canull, in his early seventies, is a man of modest means who since his retirement has become a 'Haikuist  of note' with several of his poems being published in the Japanese on line media Asahi Shimbun. 

A Picture of Paradise--By Emile Pinet--Canada

A Picture of Paradise

A swing propelled by a young girl’s giggles,
arks into the air reaching for the sky.
And its rope chafes the bark of an old oak,
as flashes of my youth go streaming by.

Evergreen trees form an emerald hedge,
as peace and tranquility set the scene.
And reds, yellows, purples and pinks abound,
where patches of wildflowers offset green.

A wild rose tangled in the undergrowth,
scatters its fragrant petals all around.
And where lilac bushes support its perch,
violet blossoms confetti the ground.

A pair of Mallard ducks scurry away,
on a pond with a silver mirrored sheen.
And barring a picture of paradise,
this is the pretties spot I've ever seen.

A scarlet sun bleeds as daylight departs,
slowly retreating from twilight’s attack.
And flowing like a billion bleeding hearts,
crimson rivers color the edge of black.

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. 

November’s black cat--By Barbara Robinette--United States

 November’s black cat

purrs on my lap

on a quiet cloudy day

and it takes courage

to turn off the kitchen neon bright,

let in morning’s outside light

misty cool and grey,

to hear beyond the closed window

the raucous wild and solemn cry

of brother blue jay.

previously published in the author’s book

Sea Leafs By Moon

Barbara Robinette is the author of two books of poems, Plain and Sea Leafs By Moon.  A third book is forthcoming. Several of her poems have appeared in print and on-line.  She has written poems, off and on, since President Kennedy’s assassination in 1963 when someone read “Oh Captain, My Captain” during the funeral procession.  She thinks poetry is for everyday, working people and keeps that audience in mind when writing her poems.

The Summer Is Past--By J. T. Milford

                                            The Summer Is Past

                                                                        A

                                                             leaf

                                                                         falls    

                                                                                     from

                                                                                                 the

                                                                                                             tree

                                                                                                and 

                                                                                    I

                                                                     feel

                                                                                       its 

                                                                           lonely

                                                                     trip

                                                           down

J. T. Milford is a retired CPA who has just completed his first book of poetry.

To love is a tragedy--By April Mae M. Berza--Philippines

To love is a tragedy

To love is a tragedy,
it is to die a million times
in the arms of Aphrodite.

To love is a tragedy,
it is a surrender, a defeat
when you could have been
an oasis with me
or I could have been
an archipelago with you.

Islands, we are islands
submerged in this emotion.

We try to be one
but we are divided
by the politics of reason.

To love is a tragedy,
it is a fiasco, another fiasco,

a thorn among the roses.

April Mae M. Berza is the author of Confession ng isang Bob Ong Fan (Flipside, 2014) and Berso de Berza (Charging Ram, 2012.) Her poems and short stories appeared in numerous publications in the America, France, Canada, Romania, India, Japan, Great Britain and the Philippines. Her poems are translated in Crimean Tatar and Filipino. Some of her poems are published in Liwayway, Belleville Park Pages, Haiku Journal, The Siren, Poetica, Three Line Poetry, Calliope, Maganda, Metric Conversions, Ani, The Manila Times, Asahi Haikuist Network, Contemporary Verse 2, and elsewhere. Her poem "E-Martial Law" was broadcast on IndoPacific Radio on KPFA 94.1FM/kpfa.org. She is a member of Poetic Genius Society. She lives in Taguig, Philippines.

Autumn Reverie--By Mary A. Couch

Autumn Reverie

I wander worn trail to blue-green lakeshore

where woodlands are painted in autumn hues,

and forlorn leaves crackle beneath my feet.

The crisp scent of pine lingers on the breeze

as I watch sunrise, a child’s finger painting,

splatter sky canvas in yellow and pink.

I feel your touch, a bittersweet memory

as wind wraps me in its arms, and chills my bones.

I turn, retrace steps to cabin alone.

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.

FALL--By Alice Couch--United States

FALL

Flurry of amber and crimson leaves

Alight upon ground beneath the trees.

Layering the earth in patchwork bands

Like a quilt crafted from nature’s hands.

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.

Haibun: Yesterday--By Angelee Deodhar--India

Haibun: Yesterday

I receive a small collection of Swarovski crystal beads, hearts, squaredelles, roundels, tear drops, bi-cones, and other shapes all with tiny holes in them and as they wink and blink in the light, I turn them over and over in my palm, marveling at their perfection...       

I travel back in time where, dressed in my best frock and new shoes, I went to my friend's house to a childhood birthday party. The piece of cake I was served, had tiny silver beads on it, which I collected carefully in my handkerchief and put in my pocket. I remember going home with my ayah and excitedly opening my handkerchief to find … nothing, no beads! I searched all over and cried when I couldn’t find those silver beads, and now five and a half decades later this small box of magic beads, which wink enticingly at me, are home again.

                   

 Tanabata festival

 from her open hair

 the scent of jasmine 

---

Note:  Tanabata is a Japanese star festival, usually held on July 7, and celebrates the meeting of Vega and Altair. The Milky Way, a river made from stars that crosses the sky, separates these lovers, and they are allowed to meet only once a year.

Previously published in Haiku Canada Review

Angelee Deodhar, is an eye surgeon turned haiku poet, translator, and artist from India.  She has translated six books of haiku from English to Hindi. She has no personal website or blog. "Hot on the heels of her 2014 release of a collection of poetic prose containing haiku, Deodhar celebrates having edited Journeys 2015, an Anthology of International Haibun, highlighting authors in 15 different countries." - David McMurray, Editor, Asahi Haikuist Network, Japan

To a Squirrel--By Suzanne Clement--United States

To a Squirrel

Little squirrel in the grass

As I pass

By you today

I see your gray fur

And your brown eyes

While you scamper on the ground.

You were created by the Lord

Who formed you with His word

As He made all the lovely things

Of Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring.

Thank you, God, for squirrels.

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

Love Saw It--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

Love Saw It

Broken, a vessel born into sin,

a torn and bruised world full of

ups and downs.  Life’s rollercoaster

we ride; erratic, off-center, full of

noise and clutter.  Shallow like sand 

shifting through fingers, exposing

the torment of broken dreams that lead

to tears in the image of a waterfall; hope

fleeing into empty spaces that have no

hiding place.  Life is often like shattered 

glass cutting to the core, inflicting an 

open wound to spread or be healed.  Love

saw it.  Love slowed the rollercoaster, 

healed the bruise, stopped the torment,

dried the tears, covered the empty spaces

and put the broken pieces back together

again.  Love saw the need and made a way.

Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations.  More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com. 

The Awakening--By Annie Jenkin--England

The Awakening

I play piano
on your shoulders
to shake away the shadows
feeding my fears.
Using unmeasured metre,
trapping sounds
of rich and mellow notes.
I feel the smooth velvet-tones
nudging my heart, awakening
the millions of tunes within.
Dusky spheres fall
as softly as summer rain
filling my veins,
releasing emotion.
The beat of my heart quickens
and my timid hand reaches
beneath my pillow,
to let my dream slip out.

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.

Thankfulness--By Marc Livanos--United States

Thankfulness

Dear Lord, our blessings over-flow.

Thank you for our Corolla.

especially in bringing me to therapy.

(The paint is peeling.)

Thank you for my Baywalker 8.

It has a roller on the stern,

especially useful when I launch it.

(It is too small for two.)

Thank you for lessons learned.

It is great to learn from trials,

especially when we meant to do our best.

(No one should ask for more.)

And now, we earnestly pray for

quick answers or your

intercession on our

on-going journey of life.  

(Sympathy would be nice.)

Marc Livanos’ poems have appeared in Straylight Magazine, Poet’s Espresso Review, Stray Branch Magazine, Old Red Kimono, Ship of Fools, Song of the San Joaquin Quarterly and others. His chapbooks “Panhandle Poet - Solitude” and “Panhandle Poet - Second Helpings” are available online at barnesandnoble.com. 

Comet in My Time--By Marlene Million--United States

Comet in My Time

I am spellbound, gazing

from an open field.

The universe issues

zealous sovereignty

streaming its sentry

through the night, a fiery light,

sky-rocking around the sun.

Gliding across interplanetary

space, an astro-divination

signals a luminescent cloud.

It brightens the world,

feeds ethereal fire to the core.

The magnetic pull elevates,

navigates a journey in solar

sparkle.  This immense serendipity

amazes the mind, startles the senses.

Its tail of wispy ion smoke

cascades a fine vapor

upon the night sky, dotted

with celestial destiny.

(Previously published in Tipton Poetry Journal)

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

Haiku/Senryu--By Martha Magenta--England

the beach

where she drowned --

angel wings

____________

an empty sea shell 

the sound 

of Genesis

____________

night chill

a blanket of lights 

over the city

____________

November rain

the cat's last visit

to the vet

____________

summer meadow

a petal becomes

a wing

____________

Martha Magenta lives in England, UK. Her poetry has appeared in The Reverie Journal, Whispers and Beaux Cooper; her haiku and senryu have been published in online journals, including Modern Haiku, Haiku Presence, and Chrysanthemum. She is owner of POETS poetry community on G+. https://marthamagenta.wordpress.com/      

summer garden--By Peggy Dugan French--United States

summer garden

years ago

we stood in your garden

smiling among the zinnias

picking peas for supper

under the big blue Minnesota sky

today

I stroll through my garden

pruning memorial roses

tenderly remembering those days

wishing I could turn back time

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.

Poetry--By r soos--United States

blemish

a fingerprint there

at the top of this notebook

shows me you're reading

_________

figure

some discovery

into your story timeline

when you write for truth

_________

home

life happens outside

until you miss the dances

with your mom and dad

_________

r soos is a teacher, poet and musician and has several books of poetry, including Somersaults With Life (2016), Parting/Departing (2015), Bringing In The Sheets (2012). His books may be purchased at on-line bookstores, such as Amazon and Barnes and Noble. His poetry appears online in Peacock Journal, Tuck, Leaves of Ink, Micropoetry, and others. His video poems may be viewed on youtube. His latest chapbook, Cell Notebook, will be published in December, 2016. He blogs at http://rsoos.com

Poetry Moments--By Marilyn Ward--United Kingdom

i recline in grass
watching grey elephants
sail by

a field of gulls
take off
i catch them mid air

red leaves
fill my lens
with autumn

hot coffee
i read steamy topics
in the newspaper

burn toast
stuck in
another daydream

Marilyn Ward is a 62-year-old grandmother, who from childhood loved words, the language did not matter, any words would do. For the last two years, these words have been turned into poems. Her favourite form being haiku--brief,  beautiful, perfectly selected, words. 

Dad--By Cindy Hutchings--United States

Dad

You were not religious

barely spiritual
your brain operated
in calculations, computations,
risk prevention

even while deteriorating from dementia
designing structures was on your mind
you watched with intense focus, when I
showed you images of architecture
created buildings from dominoes

now that you’ve passed on
gone on to another journey
your mental powers restored
I pray the Great Architect finds you
and together you make grand designs
in the lands of Skye, mist, cloud.

Cindy Hutchings’ first poetry chapbook, "Tree Talk," was published by MoonPath Press. Cindy is a member of Northwest Renaissance & Striped Water Poets in Auburn, WA, USA. She graduated from the University of Washington with a BA in English and Women Studies. She writes with passion about nature, events, and social causes. Her poetry is also shared online at QuillandParchment.com and http://artwithaheart-forum.tumblr.com       

WHISPERS’ NOVEMBER ACTIVITY—CELEBRATING THE CINQUAIN

Dear Whispers’ Family,

The November writing activity has been CELEBRATING THE CINQUAIN. Thank you to all who submitted poems. The well-crafted poems in this activity are special gifts from the heart. I hope you will take a few moments to unwrap and savor them.

Michael Escoubas, Whispers’ Activity Editor

_________

the seed…

engraved

on May’s tombstone…

love bubbling to nourish

an orphan’s empty soul with faith

and hope

Karen O’Leary, United States

_________

Light

purple

clouds edged in pink

yield to the sun’s daily

walk with brush in hand painting like

Matisse

Michael Escoubas, United States

_________

Intimidate

Whistling

Into darkness;

Sounding braver than I

Feel. Superstitions and nightmares

Haunting

David Palmer, United States

_________

Colon Cancer

Thank God
for miracles:
no cancer in lymph nodes,
no ileostomy worries,
chemo.

Charlene McCutcheon, United States 

_________

A Canine Vision

A dog
ran across a
cloud, with ears flapping and
tail wagging; he looked both happy
and proud.

Annie Jenkin, England

_________

Autumn Stroll

Dappled

Sunlight streaming

Casting dancing shadows

Leaves whispering very gently

Listen

Jan Allison, Isle of Man

_________

Blessing

Be calm

breathe deeply now

let your cares fly away

walk daily with a mighty hope

sing loud

Jim Teeters, United States

_________

Grandfather

sunset . . .

in the hospice

parched pelargoniums

thinking i'm his nurse he asks for

water

Martha Magenta, England

_________

Love

Kiss me

In the moonlight

Bathing in its essence

We'll be together forever

Us two.

David Fox, United States

_________

Sunshine 

Slowly

You light my life

As morning gently breaks

With warmth you thaw my frozen heart

Sundrenched.

Paul Callus, Malta

_________

Incipience

Autumn

pretends own death;

dormant, bursts forth with life:

underlying shoots limber up

for spring ….

Alan McAlpine Douglas, United Kingdom

_________

I Dare You

Whispers . . . .

activity:

Write a basic cinquain.

Five lines. Twenty-two syllables.

No prob.

Robert P. Hansen, United States.

_________

Persistence

One last 

orange persimmon

on black twig clung that night

temptation to the jogger’s hand

in gloves. 

Tricia Knoll, United States 

_________

Sidewalks

Chalkboards

for youthful minds

whose imagination

creates from a blank slate their life's

future

 Mary A. Couch - United States

_________

Where's Wally?

Through her
thick-rimmed glasses
in her striped hat and scarf,
she opened and then viewed her face
book page.

Ralph Stott, United Kingdom

_________

Free Gifts

To be

what we need to; 

in order to help those

less fortunate than us requires

true love. 

Langley Shazor, United States

_________

Love Song Last Night

The wind

made soulful sounds

serenading the moon

who refused to show her shy face

again.

Candace Armstrong, United States

_________

Spring

Bubbling

Cool, refreshing

Water, giver of life

In this desperate, cracked, thirsty

Parched land

Sara Kendrick, United States

_________

Rainbow

rainbow

children smiling

turn my heart upside down

catapult back to this moment’s

promise

Kelley White, United States

_________

In the Days Ahead

Be true

to who you are.

Carry your spirit like

a candle in the center of

darkness.

Mary Jo Balistreri, United States

_________

Life Sentence

Tights and
leotards were
a professional skin.
No longer a dancer, her mind
still is.

Jean Colonomos, United States

_________

Mystery

Ravens

nest in aeries

up on that mountain crest. 

Once, a raven's shadow followed

me home. 

Elizabeth Howard, United States

_________

Kindness

Hushed fog

of old Autumn

wraps her arms around brown,

brittle leaves remaining on the

sapling.

Barbara Robinette, United States

_________

Intaglio

you, earth...
as i walk your
hills and streams i touch the
ample landscape you sculpt for me
each day

Pat Geyer, United States

_________

Breakdown

The day

your words stole mine

consuming my true self

a barrier came between us

I fell

Inge Wesdijk, The Netherlands

________

Children

Children—

little people.

Laughing, running, playing.

emotional, excited things—

youngsters.

Anna-Marie Docherty, Wales, UK

________

First Frost

Years tilt
Crazing appears
Age leans into the wind
My daughter whispers, it's time to
Retire

James Marshall Goff, United States

________

Waiting

The boots

that caught my eye

in the shoe store window

have not been marked down for the sale.

Not yet...

Mary Gunn, Ireland

________

Old Friends

Friendship

will grow stronger 

with the passage of time.

Fickle cold hearts push good people

away.

Jack Horne, England
________

Your Memories

Mild breeze
of full moon, light
invites your forgotten
memories that teases me - spoiled
my night.

Dr. Satish Srivastava, India