SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

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

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  Submissions of unpublished and previously published work are acceptable.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

2.  Send one of the three following:

    ---1 poem 20 lines or less

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

    ---up to 3 tanka (see above)

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

Writers are eligible for publication every other month.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friendship’s Light/Editor's Thoughts--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Friendship’s Light

arms stretch
across the miles
in letters bearing words
to lighten the load and keep hope
alive
_________________________

This has been a good year for Whispers.  Part of the goal for the online journal when I started it, almost two years ago, was to connect writers from different circles.  It is such a joy to see friendships developing.  Whispers has had over 50,000 views this year.  Thank you to each and everyone for your part in this accomplishment.  Since inception over 170 writers have contributed their talents, ranging from age 12 to in the 90’s.  I hope you feel our online journal is a welcoming community and will continue to enjoy the gift of words.  Best wishes to all of you in your writing journeys.  May you be blessed with joy in the New Year.

Warm regards,

Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor
_________________________

Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND.  Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues.  She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher.  Their second project, Snippets...an anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012.  Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.

Siren Song--By Robert P. Hansen--United States

Siren Song

Her body would engulf the hungry eye—
A feast of pure temptation to be had!
Her gentle touch would drive a man insane;
A single kiss would leave him raving mad!
Her sultry voice sings symphonies of love
that tremble in the ear of every man;
Her words entangle with the breeze and surf
to lure the wayward sailor to his end;
He floats adrift upon her melody
until his raft comes crashing to the shore;
She draws him inland to his tragedy:
A slow decay that lingers—death forlorn.
But what of her? This temptress on the wind?
Will her lonely vigil ever end?

Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. In addition to poetry, he also writes genre fiction. He recently published a collection of mystery and science fiction stories (Have You Seen My Cat? And Other Stories) on Amazon and the third book of his Angus the Mage fantasy series (The Golden Key) will be published in January, 2015. For more information on his writing and where to find what he has published, visit his blog at: http://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/.

Haiku--By Lavana Kray--Romania

power cut -
the snowflakes pair off
for a dance
_______________

old watercolour -
a dripping tear
makes the difference
_______________

ice fishing -
the wind bites
first
_______________

squally words-
your breath
spotting the night
_______________

high snow-
a starling pecking
the door bell grain
_______________

Lavana Kray is from Iasi – Romania. She is passionate about writing and photography. The nature and the events of her life are topics of inspiration. She believes that there is a core of poetry in all things. Both haiku and haiga have been published in: Haiku Canada Review, Asahi Shimbun, The Mainichi, World Haiku Association, Daily Haiga, Word Haiku Review, Haiku Presence and others… She was chosen for Haiku Euro Top 100-edition 2013. This is her blog: http://photohaikuforyou.blogspot.ro

Christmas Memories Long Ago--By Celine Rose Mariotti--United States

Christmas Memories Long Ago

Christmas memories long ago,
Rush to my mind in a flow,
Nonie making dough for the pasta,
Margaret and I helping her,
Nonie always gave us a dish of ricotta cheese to eat,
Grandpa at the head of the table making the raviolis,
Uncle Dominic in the parlor watching a football game,
My Mom upstairs getting the house ready for Christmas,
Changing the curtains, changing the doilies,
My Dad helping us to put up our tree,
Testing the lights to make sure they were working,
My sister and I helping my Mom bake our cookies,
My Dad on the phone calling his old Army buddies,
My Dad playing Santa Claus, and I would
Get up and find him putting the presents under our tree,
“Skinny, you’re Santa Claus!” I would exclaim
Christmas memories of long ago,
Tucked away and wrapped with a bow.

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.

Some Verses of Ghalib--Translated by Sunil Uniyal--India

Some Verses of Ghalib (Translated by Sunil Uniyal) ~

Even a task that looks easy, can prove to be a difficult thing
Indeed it's hard for any man to be a simple human being !
...
A drop by merging into the sea, attains its bliss
Pain becomes a panacea, when it crosses all limits
...
All elements of nature are destined to decay
The sun is here like a lamp in whirlwind's way
...
Know even the songs of heart in grief, to be a gift of fortune
For, this lyre of existence would one day be without its tune
...
Ghaiib, when on the shore, my ship has arrived already
Why to rant before God, the pilot's idiosyncrasy?

(Note: These verses are from my work on Mirza Ghalib, the nineteenth century Urdu poet of Delhi, India- Tears of Blood- Selected Verses of Ghalib, Partridge, a Penguin Random House Co., July 2014, available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kindle).

Sunil Uniyal ( born 1953-) is a poet and translator based in New Delhi, India. He has been writing haiku and poems for over thirty years and many of these have appeared in e-journals like Muse India, Kritya, AHA Poetry, Poetica Magazine, Sketch Book, Notes From the Gean, A Hundred Gourds and Haiku Dreaming Australia. His work in translation includes, The Target is Behind the Sky -Fifty Poems of Kabir, brought out by the Low Price Publications, Delhi in February 2012.

Strength In Silence--By Colleen Keller Breuning--United States

Strength In Silence

Our tears dissolve in bitter wine,
Green grapes withered on tangled vine.
Dark skies gave way to calling crow,
You slipped away to indigo.

Wispy clouds reveal hints of truth --
Soul once full of vibrance and youth.
When twilight met the fall’s first snow,
You slipped away to indigo.

Pureness your legacy imparts,
Forever branded on our hearts.
Strength in silence, your spirit glows.
You slipped away to indigo.

Our tears dissolve in bitter wine,
You slipped away to indigo.

For my dear father-in-law, Rudy…. praying for you as you begin your final journey toward the light. I love you.

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).

Is Jealousy Love--By Frances Simwinga--Malawi

Is Jealousy Love

Take it to the blue waters of our lake
It won't swim alongside patience.
Bless it with wings to soar
It won't fly alongside fidelity.

It breeds distrust.
It betrays like disloyalty.
Its peers are but envy and doubt.

Then how come call it love?

To be its blind disciple
It can beckon and con you to alter your view
About your initial vows with your spouse.
By feeding lies to raze the knot you had tied.

So, heed to these letters or If already a victim better
Disengage now it's not late
You will surely feel much better latter
For it is not love
If it were, it would be patient and loyal and self-controlled?

Frances Simwinga is a budding poet. He has discovered healing in poetry. He happens to have a bias towards slam poetry but greatly enjoys the written word too.

Seasons--By Joann Grisetti--United States

Seasons

I watch them fall, those autumn leaves
In reds and golds stirred by the breeze;
After they fall we rake and rake
Huge piles for jumping, then remake,
Heaps standing round the naked trees.

Overnight the lakes solid freeze
Icicles form, and finally,
Dancing in the evening – snowflakes -
                 I watch them fall.

And then the sun begins to tease,
Bulbs spring open sure to please,
Young buds stretch and grow awake
Cherry petals, pink and white, shake
As gentle winds from shoots release
                 I watch them fall.

Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.

The Probe--By Terry O’Leary--France

The Probe

The scientists flung the Rosetta
like spinning a ball in rouletta.
The nerds were annoyed
when their progeny buoyed.
All was saved with a back turbojeta

Settling down on an icy ast'roid,
which was neither oblong nor spheroid,
they said "Philae be grounded",
instead she rebounded
and almost was lost in the void.

With parties and money misdealt
the project was left needing gelt.
And cells lacking power
sent nerds to the shower
while watching the meteor melt.

Author’s note--I wrote these limericks about the space probe, Philae, that recently landed (after 10 years in flight! traversing over 6 billion miles) on the comet 67P/Churyumove-Gerasimenko. The probe (weighing about 200 pounds) was carried by the Rosetta spacecraft (about 6000 pounds) and landed on the distorted rugby-ball shaped comet (a stone, about 2.5 miles in diameter, weighing about 20 trillion pounds), the comet traveling at over 40 000 miles per hour....

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

sound of dreams--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.  She is missed by many.                                                                        Sincerely, Karen O’Leary--Editor

sound of dreams

what are
the sounds of dreams
on a winter
    dark night

it has been snowing steadily
and dawn comes all white and silent
with snowflakes dressed
like tiny poems

Thoughts from Nila Webster--This poem, like so many of my mother's captures the Zen of the season. Winter does bring its dark nights, for certain, yet the image of dawn 'white' and 'silent' is filled with hope and beauty. I love the idea that the snowflakes are dressed like tiny poems.

God is Everywhere--By Shirley Smothers--United States

God is Everywhere

God is in
the flowers,
God is in
the trees.
God is in
the sky,
God is in
the breeze.
God is
everywhere
you go,
everywhere
you roam.
But most
of all
God is in
the heart.
Make yours
your home.

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

The Fourth Season--By David Williams--England

The Fourth Season

The ghostly birch extends it’s arms;
fingers protruding into the dark night
shadows- of geranium stain the ground.
A landscape so bleak it…
struggles against the thin air,
like shy lovers touching hands.

I trudge heavily, ground -
laden with snow, it
falls
from white eyelashes, one blink
brings an avalanche
catching the low sun.
Suddenly the carpet is full of stars.

The forest silently ticks on, minute calls
murmuring, shipwrecked sirens…Scentless.
Slats of light, tease through naked
venetian bones, our eyes eat the warmth.
Beneath the earth sap stirs
before sneaking into spring…

David Williams was born in England and has resided there all of his life. He started writing poetry at the tender age of 14. He was encouraged to enter a local school poetry contest and went on to win it. In later life, he joined many local poetry groups and writers circles, eventually becoming chairman. He has had 9 poetry books published and is collating material for two more books which will hopefully be out later this year. He holds workshops to help and encourage writers to understand the many different forms of poetry. He has won many contests and is also a recognised poetry judge.

Starlight--By Jim Teeters--United States

Starlight

an evening star shines light below
the distant spark bursts forth alone
in darkness dim its light will show
a warrior's gun, a soldier’s moan

righteous leaders inspire with truth
but tyrants rule by fear and lies
they send to battle precious youth
a morning star looks down and cries

today let’s pray with hands upraised
the little star will shine on love
the evening star will be amazed
delighted, laugh and dance above

now prayer alone won't win the day
each caring soul must take command
a star can shine with bright display
but acts of love must save our land

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.

WHISPERS’ CHRISTMAS SPECIAL ACTIVITY--FORM-BROKEN MONOKU

Brian Strand, an accomplished writer, generously offered to be the activity editor for this wonderful opportunity.  He invited writers to explore his broken monoku form.  The criteria for the form follows--

No title, a line of verse broken into two at the caesura (the natural breathing space or pause in a line of verse, usually near the middle).

I would like to thank Brian for selecting these 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.

                                            --Karen O’Leary, Whispers’ Editor
_______________________

A memorial plaque on a park-bench

    someone reads over your shoulder

By Ralph Stott
_______________________

the in-between moment -

    twilight emerges

By ayaz daryl nielsen
_______________________

Child is born on Christmas-

    cries just like all others.

By Arthur C. Ford, Sr.
_______________________

silence in the room-

    a decorated Christmas tree

By Sara Kendrick
_______________________

hope, love greet each other –

    ghosts from the past

By Beth Winchcombe
_______________________

On the long bridge of morning-

    splashes of dreams

By Joan McNerney
_______________________

visiting the home-

    who will I be

By Ron Gognet
_______________________

small fingers curl-

    a tear falls from mama's cheek

By Olive Eloisa Guillermo
_______________________

Yuletide songs--

    a widow's tears

By Karen O'Leary
_______________________

walking in the snow -

    warm companionship

By Jack Horne
_______________________

Christmas day-

    no one smiles all of the time

By Barbara Tate
_______________________

parish barbecue –

    wine loosens barbed tongues

By Anne Curran
_______________________

red rose's weep -

    crystal tears upon autumn's wind

By Rick Parise
_______________________

empty cupboards –

    we go to the city mission for lunch

By Maureen Sudlow
_______________________

Holly hanging from the doorway...

    thorns hang from a crown

By Phyllis Babcock
_______________________

after the funeral-

    only tear he ever shed

By Peggy French
_______________________

Gone to seed-

    onion blooms

By Marianne Szylk
_______________________

on the verge, road kill rabbit -

    hooded crows arrive for the wake

By Brian Strand
_______________________

** NOTE- Variations to the basic imagist form can also be as follows –sequenced/as ekphrasis/light & humerous/titled to make a third line/epigrammatic/and as a quaternion -as exampled in Brian Strand’s recent kindle ebook-Broken Monoku-a definitive guide (a sample from which can be heard recited on youtube.)

Haiku--By Rita Odeh--Israel

waking to
the pond's song...
a lotus
_______________

narrow path...
following a monarch
butterfly
_______________

first light…
emptying a seashell
of shadows
_______________

pilgrim's chant-
slowly, the lotus unfold
their petals
_______________

Shikoku temples-
a pilgrim and his shadow
follow the light
_______________

Rita Odeh is the author of seven books, including Buds of Dream which was released May 2014 and is available from Amazon. Her haiku and haiga have been honored with many awards. To read more of her poems, please go to Catching the Moment, http://rita-odeh.blogspot.com

Winter Storm--By Suzanne Clement--United States

Winter Storm

Snowflakes
fall from the sky
as if a big box of
laundry detergent’s been opened
and spilled.

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

The Moldy Closet--By Sara Kendrick--United States

The Moldy Closet

The cloak closet was fairly clean
A brief dust would do it
Then pouring rain set in two days
Wet traced a fish gill's slit

Now the closet isn't sparkling clean
From those down stream's dribbles
On the clean outside all looks well
Inside black ink scribbles

A hard untidy job ahead
Removing the contents
A stinky, stressful employment
Arduousness presents

All purpose cleaner in strong hands
Spray, scrub to beat the band
Unsuccessful accomplishment
Step back, look, the job scanned

Momma said soap and water cleaned
Anything but the soul
Just say a prayer for cleansing
And He will make one whole

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. 

Star Gazer--By Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada

Star Gazer

When she smiled at him ----
   the world could wait,
   with its myriad of contradictions
   and infinite postures to feigned joy;
   there could be no deceit in her light....
That gorgeous assurance that he was as alive
   as the vast heartbeat of the cosmos;
   what a whetted pulse to quicken and burst
   upon the shoulders of stars,
   and saddle comets to flame....
   ride the rays of the sun....
As a child again under the spell of ice cream,
   shiny-toy and heroic dream;
   the world could wait,
   (when she smiled at him)

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

God’s Magic--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

God’s Magic

On a snowy morning,
I watched snowflakes
drift in a soft quietness,
and marveled at its blanket
of whiteness, which covered me
with a warmth of peacefulness.
I absorbed its serenity
and whispered silent praise
for the pure joy of being touched
by the simple pleasure
of God’s magic.

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.

Whispered Shadows--By David Coon--United States

Whispered Shadows

Whispered shadows speak in the dark of night
They whisper words long held close to the heart
Forgotten dreams of hope and love filled light
Lost in time that has kept lovers apart

As tears slowly roll down from red rimmed eyes
Your face appears then fades into the dark
Memories fog and then escape from sight
Trailing the songs of wolves and meadowlarks

On a cold awakening moon stands high
The world is a dark, emotional void.
Stars wink out, disappearing in the blight
Dark thoughts of abandonment are deployed

A voice of joy and hope rises in song
Whispered shadows that flee in fright are gone

David (Dave) Coon has been sharing has poems on various social sites since 1997 and has always gone by the name of Nissmech. 

Rain over Vietnam--By Paul Callus--Malta

Rain over Vietnam 

There is the calm before the rain
It’s almost silent all around
The clouds expectant in the sky
Foreboding birds are homeward bound.

The soldiers stare at looming clouds
There is the calm before the rain
And yet there’s tension in the air
Will all this waiting be in vain?

They know the feeling well enough
The sun gets left out in the cold
There is the calm before the rain
They have to be prepared and bold.

The sound of planes will soon be heard
Torrential bombs will fall again
But ‘til the heavens burst in floods
There is the calm before the rain.

Inspired by the song “Have you ever seen the rain?”
Sung by Credence Clearwater Revival.
With underlying reference to the Vietnam War.

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.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse--United States

Wrapped in Love

By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse

You came into the world in the  afternoon
A tiny bundle with red tuff of fine hair
Ready to leave your safe and warm cocoon
Not fussy, life entered with little flare

We prayed for you and God provided great Joy
A slim long bundle of happiness, God's blessing
We were full of love and gratefulness, my boy
Wonderful companion so much love overflowing

From you came this little boy who added much
Adorned  with such wonderful physical traits
Downy skin, strong finger grips, powerful touch
Born with minutes to spare ALMOST late for the date.

Two generations remembered by the third
Clear as a crystal nothing at all blurred

Haiku/Senryu--By Ronald Grognet--United States

visiting mom
at the home--
who will I be
_______________

late night screams
at my first asylum stay--
a cat in heat
_______________

dogs romp in my yard--
    spontaneous flea market
_______________

my three grandsons
teach me what I didn't know--
    only child
_______________

squirrels twitching tails--
    text messages
_______________

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.

When She Sleeps--By Marlene Million--United States

When She Sleeps

Angels dance in sugarplum
dreams, circling her crib
amid colorful rainbows of
heavenly promise.

Noah's Ark nightlight is
aglow from atop the dresser.
Pink, light-weight coverlet
is pushed aside.

A curled cherub in white
cotton pajamas, all is calm,
and she sighs softly.

Angel wings hover. . .
safely guarding
her breath of life.

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.

Winter--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

Winter

It’s Winter and the earth is bare,
Gone are the sounds of summer fairs,
Only chilly winds, and frosty panes,
Large icicles, and frozen drains
But, compensation is a-planned,
A Winter season wonderland.
When warm white blanket covers earth,
All furry creatures in their berth,
The child takes on his snowball pleasure,
To any child it’s natures treasure.
The old will think of bygone day,
when horse had drawn a handsome sleigh
The tinkling of it’s pretty bells,
Only Christmas cards now tell.
Still there lays a pretty scene,
The land is beautiful and clean,
Each plant and tree a white cap wears,
Who needs the sun and summer fairs?

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.

The Perfect Christmas Tree--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States

The Perfect Christmas Tree

The truck was unloaded and all the trees were standing tall.
One Blue Spruce, taller than all the rest, was a know it all.
“I’m the most handsome tree; I will be the first tree to go.”
The Spruce noticed a twisted scraggly small Cedar lying near.
“How in the world did you get here, you ugly little freak,
“No one will buy a runty twisted deformed tree like you,”
Frankie, deformed since birth, bent, he could barely walk alone.
Frankie’s mom had died that year, they were very sad and broke.
Frankie hoped to decorate a tree like he and his Mom.
With ribbons, pine cones, and things they made that were fun for all.
“Frankie, I don’t have money for any tree, live or dead”.
“I know dad, could we go see them before I go to bed.”
A light snow and brisk wind made it like a scene from a book.
The owner of the tree lot said “Welcome, my first buyers.”
“Your trees are beautiful, my son just wants to look at them.”
The owner saw Frankie’s wistful face, bent and twisted body.
He watched father and son walk slowly touching each live tree.
The owner smiled and said “I have a tree that fits you well”.
The Big Blue Spruce flexed its fine limbs, and let out a loud moan.
Frankie smiled, “it’s perfect I can trim it, it’s just like 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 "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"

Haiku--By Ron C. Moss--Australia

mountain lake
the inner circles
of a raindrop
_______________

cherry blossoms
on the family picnic . . .
the colour of joy
_______________

cosmic dust
the feel of another’s pulse
on mine
_______________

breathless . . .
my fingers ripple
a star cluster
_______________

snowflakes settle
on scallop shells
lit by the moon
_______________

Ron C. Moss is a Tasmania visual artist, poet and lover of haiku. His poetry has won international awards and been translated into several languages. Ron's art is sold as limited edition-prints and originals. He has been featured in poetry journals and has designed several award winning poetry books.  Ron is a two time winner of the Haiku Society of America International renku competition, and he is a current member on the Haiku Society of America. Please check out Ron’s website--www.ronmoss.com

Poet of the Month--Pam Murray

October Is No Lady

By Pam Murray

Come softly to my window.
Dawn rises and you’ll see
October’s inspiration
In the changing tapestry.

I envy her the weaving
Of such vibrant red and gold.
I’ve tried to emulate her
But I’m never quite so bold.

I’ve heard she is a mistress
Of old man winter who will be
Along to do her bidding,
Which he’ll do most willingly.

Some think it is the summer
Who would hold her in his bed.
Perhaps it’s just the sun who tries
To keep her close instead.

I know she’s not a lady.
Just look at what she flaunts.
It really is quite scandalous
How she teases and she taunts.

But we’ve learned to love her.
We await her eagerly
As soon as summer passes.
What fools we mortals be.
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From the editor--It is a privilege to announce that Pam Murray is December’s Poet of the Month.  She is an accomplished writer who has been published in a variety of venues.  Readers at Whispers enjoy her wonderful poetry.  Pam has been an encouraging voice at our online journal since 2013.  She regularly leaves thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  Pam has collaborated with another writer on several poems that have been featured at Whispers.  It is a pleasure to present Pam with this honor!
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Thoughts on “October is No Lady”--I felt the gentle invitation in the opening line and was drawn to find out what was out there to see.  Pam’s skilled use of personification evokes an artistic experience.  The rhyme flows effortlessly which is a hallmark of much of Pam’s writing.  The imagery breathes life into this remarkable poem.  This is a wonderful, timeless piece.
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Congratulations and thank you Pam!  I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.

Sincerely,

Karen O’Leary, Editor

Autumn Turning--By Linda Hurdwell--England

Autumn Turning

In the sky a tangerine.
Grinning down upon the grey
A bleak and desolate scene
While nature’s hands push life away

Green turned brown shapes float down
Beneath the hazy tangerine
Nature wears her orange gown
And bare tall trees stand serene.

Birds migrate with windswept plume
Squirrels scamper to and fro
Soon nature is an empty room
As fertile land begins to go

In the sky a luminous moon
Seeks the chance to lean and glow
Gently lighting up the gloom
Then, silently it starts to snow

Now a white and barren land
Ethereal world lets out a sigh
Nature shakes a chilly hand
Beneath the ever changing sky.

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.