In-Habit--By Laura M. Kaminski--United States

In-Habit

"I'm a product of many books." –

 Oluwasegun Romeo Oriogun

book held open: a time-travel ship

whose denizens have journeyed far

and long in hibernation

turn the page, these characters

emerge blinking into torchlight

by which you read at night

do they tame moth and mosquito

harness them with invisible

saddles, joust and jaunt

and re-enact there in your dark-

filled room? a book held open:

far more powerful than

any jinni stoppered in a bottle,

each line has its own presence,

each page characters in

residence. romeo, be careful how

closely you hold them when you

read, you could be taking

ghosts in when you breathe

Laura M. Kaminski (Halima Ayuba) grew up in northern Nigeria, went to school in New Orleans, and currently lives in rural Missouri. More information about her and her poetry is available athttps://arkofidentity.wordpress.com/about/ 

Spring Songs--By Michael Escoubas--United States

Spring Songs

After February’s late-winter blast,

Junipers bend weighted with ice.

Pine trees stand crusted with snow.

A cold, black train whistles in the distance.

Just in time March sings an overture.

Robins sport jaunty orange breasts,

Woodpeckers drum on hollow trunks,

Redbirds flame singing on wires.

Then, April glides in like a debutante.

Bluebells blanket forest floors,

Purple phlox dine with Lilacs,

Forsythia flashes robes of yellow glory.

But none of this could be without March:

singer of first things, whose purpose is

to show, take a bow, then be forgotten.

After retiring from a 48-year career in the printing industry in 2013, Michael Escoubas began writing poetry for publication. His study of and interest in poetry goes back some 30 years. During this time he studied classical and modern poets learning from their works and from critics who comment about them. Michael writes poetry in part because his mother once said, “You have a gift for words; you should do something with that gift.”

Love Without Hope--By Terry O'Leary--

Love Without Hope

Above, the blushing blood moon vexes silken ebon space

with shadows of the mournful mist recalling, pale, a wistful trace -

her farewell smile I viewed through tears that almost veiled her face -

she turned away and whispered low 'another time, another place...'

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

From the Archives—Featuring Maralee Gerke

It is a joy to travel back into our Whispers’ archives and read gems from past issues.  When I reached, “If You’re Lucky,” I knew this was the one for this month’s feature.  I have written about titles before and their importance.  Today, our skilled writer, Maralee Gerke, lured me in with hers. In the first three stanzas, Maralee treats us to quiet peace of shared moments, using multi-sense imagery.  With the single line fourth stanza, I felt there was going to be change. Our poetry friend uses this line to give us pause, to prepare for what’s ahead and gave me the sense that the message was about to be delivered. Maralee’s last two stanzas are shared with a bit of mystic—the loss—the time for healing.  This poem is an artistic experience.  Congratulations Maralee!

Sincerely,

Karen O’Leary—Whispers’ Editor

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

If You’re Lucky

(Previously Published at Whispers

April 13, 2013)

By Maralee Gerke

you share the same
favorite star;
you know- the brightest one
in the center of Orion’s belt

or sit side by side
barefoot in the sand
watching waves break
on an empty beach

walk through a dusty
marketplace, holding hands,
laughing, eating figs, wrapping
yourself in vermilion silk

And if you’re very lucky

you can hold the
wounded half of your soul
in trembling arms
until it can no longer stay.

Then release it
like the whitest dove to soar,
while you, rooted to the earth
stand and watch it go.

Spring Greetings--By Linda Hurdwell--England

Spring Greetings

(acrostic poem)

Sing a song of Springtime

Pad it out with fun

Reaching for the sunshine

Inside every-one

Gather the love of happiness

Greeting all today

Race for the joy of Springtime

Enjoy the chance to play

Every-one basks merrily

Trades a massive smile

Intrepid optimists

Nature does beguile

Glad to have a lighter step

Season with such style.

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.

Creative Moments--By Thomas Canull--United States

if you look inward

you will begin to see more

of what's around you

_________________

life's illusion ..

the moment of creation

the ending begins

_________________

ripples on the pond

echoes of a moment past

... darting dragonfly

_________________

spring wind in the trees

blossoms drift to earth once more

full circle of life

_________________

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. He posts a 'thought for the week' and 'haiku for the week' for one of the local Starbucks stores. He is also Co-founder of Hope 4 U bracelet Ministries.

Haiku--By Nicholas Klacsanzky--Ukraine

I write a letter

to father . . .

evergreen bark

______________

work stress

across the street

the nun walks 

______________

coyote calls

return to the neighborhood--

Madrona bark 

______________

Mumbai smog--

he eats dal and rice

each meal
______________

Nicholas Klacsanzky is an editor from Kyiv, Ukraine. His haiku have been published in such publications as Modern Haiku, Frogpond, The Manichi, A Hundred Gourds, and many more. He also is featured in Yanty's Butterfly, a haiku collection in honor of deceased Indonesian haiku poet Yanty Tijam. A book collecting the haiku of his father, George Klacsanzky, and the haiku of Nicholas Klacsanzky, named Zen and Son will be released shortly.

Writing on the Bus--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Writing on the Bus                          

I wrote past my stop

should I get a bus transfer

or sit where I am

and write further on my route

since I have written this far

Carl "Papa" Palmer, retired Army, retired FAA, now just plain retired, lives in University Place, Washington. He has seven chapbooks and a contest winning poem riding buses somewhere in Seattle. Carl has been nominated for the Micro Award and Pushcart Prize.

MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever

www.authorsden.com/carlpalmer

Memories--By Virginia Johe--(In Memory 1911-2011)--United States

Memories

Walking down the back road

    of my life

Trying to cope with

    sorrow and strife

I lost someone precious

     a short time ago

now the days of lost

        their special glow

I hear his voice and

    see his smile

as I trudge along

    each lonely mile

I know he is telling me

    all will be fine

And I feel the touch of

    his hand on mine

We had our golden moments

    that slipped by so fast

Now my heart is trying

    to forever make them last

From her Granddaughter Nila Webster--Virginia Johe (1911-2011) lost her husband in 1980.  With the encouragement of her daughter, jani johe webster, Virginia began to write poetry to process her grief.  This poem was written shortly after Virginia's husband died.  Until the end of her life, she continued to write him notes and refer to him as "my honey."  Her poem is a testimony to grief and courage.

The First Flower--By Jan Oskar Hansen--Portugal

The First Flower

The first winter after a long war was cold

but today the snow was slushy the beginning of spring

It was a poor street house had not been

painted for years, not much food and the ice was

reluctant to let go of its pale grip.

It was then I saw it along a wall of flaking cement

a small solitary, yellow flower the colour so bright

it blinded me it was like I had a moment of clarity

I understood and saw it all.

In the windows of old houses curtains and on sills

flowers in pots and empty tins humanities need for beauty.

I must not forget hasted home find a piece of paper

and wrote it down.

So long ago now, it was 1946 and people were friendly

we had suffered together and survived.

Jan Oskar Hansen is a published poet from Portugal.

On Being Terminal--By Nila Webster--United States

On Being Terminal

For all the hours

left

I pray my life be a prayer

and a poem

a sacred psalm

of sparkling light

Nila J. Webster

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

Editor’s thoughts—It is not often that I recommend something at our online journal, but Nila’s videos are so inspirational that I know they will help others. 

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

4 minute YouTube video on the power of creative writing: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8DJOwa2T7c

Link to Ways of Healing with Cancer site:  

www.waysofhealingwithcancer.com

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

Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. Nila has donated over 100,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net. 

You Warm My Toes--By Alan McAlpine Douglas--United Kingdom

You Warm My Toes

Although we are so far apart,
me here, you there, and living Dutch,
you warm my toes, caress my heart;

you had me hooked, right from the start -
I lean on you, my cripple’s crutch,
although we are so far apart.

For you, I’m whole; without, mere part;
this grumpy, low-down such-and-such.
You warm my toes, caress my heart.

Long distance chat brought Cupid’s dart
my trembling heart’s now in your clutch
although we are so far apart.

I fought, essayed Houdini’s art;
I tried to struggle (not too much!):
You warm my toes, caress my heart,

and make me oh so lucky-charmed.
Longing to feel, we are in touch,
although we are so far apart;
you warm my toes, caress my heart.

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. 

Aubade--By J. T. Milford--United States

Aubade

            For Jo Balistreri

    

May the flowers

of your soul open

to receive the gift

of morning light

That gives life

to everything

the sky lapis blue

and the forever

light of you

**Editor's note Mary Jo Balistreri is a contributor at our Whispers' community

Author's Thoughts--I wrote this poem to celebrate Jo Balistreri, her poetry and her help and support given me over the years we have been e-mail friends. Many of my poems would not have come to fruition without her insightful comments and suggestions. Reading her books and selected poems she sent to me has shown what emotion she brings to her beautiful poetry. 

Earth Cries--By Paul Callus--Malta

Earth Cries (Villanelle)

My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead

for air to give my lungs a chance to breathe.

Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.

My virgin flesh despoiled and robbed for greed,

in pain I cringe and hide my face in shame.

My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.

Entwined in thorns, I’m begging to be freed.

My lips are dry; they beg for kiss of life.

Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.

Shivering limbs, unwilling to concede

defeat, as vibrant echoes numb the mind.

My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.

Mankind is blind, appears to take no heed.

The soul is lost and time is running out.

Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.

On verge of suffocation, I’m in need

of love and hope to sprout from hidden seed.                       

My pulse is weak; it flutters while I plead.

Abuse must stop, or soon my heart will bleed.

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.

The Lord, My Teacher--By Suzanne Clement--United States

The Lord, My Teacher

Teach me your will, O Lord.

For if you do, I’ll know

The proper way to move my feet

As through my life I go.

And as I learn your will,

I shall not be unwise

But understand and know what’s right

And proper in your eyes.

~~Ephesians 5:17~~

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

Haiku--By John McDonald--Scotland

the homeless lady
trudges -
her bags full of wind
_________________

moon
in the stream
...rippling banjo
_________________

ashes
on my forehead
the priest's cold thumb
_________________

philosophy class -
outside the window
a monkey-puzzle tree
_________________

surely seen
from space:
Earth's candles for the dead
_________________

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

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

Golden Cage

She felt like a trapped bird
in a golden cage, fed only
sorrow and precious stones;
orchids and roses were there
to say sorry until the next time.
But all she wanted was a little love.
The gleam in her eyes fade each day
the smile disappeared from her face.
Although hopeless, betrayed and with
a broken wing, she found the strength
to run from a prison of poisonous love.
And now, she is soaring once again...
embraced tightly by her other half...
an Angel with a broken wing as well.
Together, they fly into a smiling moon,
and dance to a sonnet of forever love.

Blanca Alicia Garza is a published poet from Las Vegas, Nevada. She has appeared in two collaborative poems on Whispers and An Outreach Poem to Paris.  She also has several poems published at The Poet Community, www.thepoetcommunity.com . She enjoys spending time with her children, grandchildren and "Jack" her Cat.

Haiku--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada

therapy session:
winter rain on the window
deepens the silence

治療時間：
窗外的冬季雨聲
加深了室內沉默

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

first hometown visit
the squeaking sound
of windshield wipers

第一次返鄉
雨刷
的吱吱聲

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

traveling
far away in thought ...
hospice window

思緒
遨遊遠方 ...
安寧醫院窗口

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

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

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

SASE

Until

it returns

the hope is strong

the heart is resilient

and optimism

rules.

Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy courses at a community college and writes poetry and genre fiction in his spare time. His most recent publications include 2015: A Year of Poetry, Exploitation and Other Stories, and Angst (Book 4 of his Angus the Mage fantasy series). Visit his blog (http://rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com/) for samples of his writing (including the full text of Book 1 of his Angus the Mage series) and links to eBook retailers who sell his work. 

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Rob Harle--Australia and Sunil Sharma--India

Masks

By Rob Harle and Sunil Sharma

This mask you wear today

cultivated

finely honed in light,

hours spent preening the reflection

mirror's lights

and mirror's gaze

to impress,

to bolster sagging confidence

dragged downwards slowly.

Like a Noh mask

Conveying various meanings

Depending on the actor’s angles

The corporate honcho, bit aged

Hides beneath the subtle make-up

Conforming to their image

And confirming the effect

Before a well-lit mirror!

And yesterday's mask,

washed away

perhaps thrown in a corner

to decay like memories,

like childhood fantasies,

the puppets and the plays

have long since gathered dust.

What of tomorrow's mask?

In the junk yard

Teaming with the odd masks

And with the lilacs growing on

The pile of assorted memories

They search for the right one

Out of that debris of puppets

Bits and odds

For an enduring one, the middle-class mask.

Life Lessons--By Eleanor Michael--United States

Life Lessons

Most of us

start adult life

with a plan,

but it seems

the sooner

we stop resisting,

learn to hang on

by our fingernails

and survive,

the better we can.

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

Nature’s Symphony--By Gerald Heyder--United States

Nature’s Symphony

Isn’t it wonderful

yes, truly grand

orchestral music

or that of a band,

how about a symphony

from nature’s bandstand?

A melody through a breeze

conducting leaves

on many trees to please

the airwaves as they

soothingly tease our ears

to hear a masterpiece,

a lullaby to make us

sigh from the greatest

composer in the sky,

you know who I mean.

Listen to nature’s symphony

for there is none better

to unfetter our souls.

Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

The Reason for Easter--By Helen Dowd--Canada

The Reason for Easter

What is the reason for Easter?
What makes it such a special affair?
Is it that it's holiday season?
Is it because Spring's in the air?

Or do you think of the REAL reason for Easter?
Do you think of Christ's death on the Cross?
Do you thank Him for making the sacrifice
so your soul be not eternally lost?

While we celebrate this Easter season,
Keep in mind this wee bit of advice:
Let's take time on this happy occasion
To thank God for His Great Sacrifice

Helen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 56 years, writing poetry, story poems, stories about pets and life in general, as well as inspirational and Bible stories. She has one book published. Her stories and poems have been published in several Anthologies. Helen hosts an inspirational online publication, www.occupytillicome.ca  She is presently a caregiver for her husband and sister, two dogs, four cats and 3 gold fish.

Last Full Measure of Devolution--By James Rasmusson--United States

Last Full Measure of Devolution

In 1863 Lincoln gave us the wisdom

of the Gettysburg Address:

government of the people,

by the people,

for the people,

shall not perish from the earth.

Seven score and thirteen years later

one asks if they died in vain as we address:

Government upon the people

over the people

against the people

perishing from the earth.

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.

Fledglings--By Angelee Deodhar--India

Fledglings

These words
my fledglings of thought

baby chicks hatched
from my feather lined bosom
fed inspiration from the Muse
till their feathers come

like the mother bird
flying outwards and back

I teach them to fly into
that delft bowl of submissions 

cooing encouragement
teetering at the edge

I teach them to be unafraid

of editorial hawks

most times they find a home
sometimes they come back

like homing pigeons

till I send them out again
to try to fly on their own.

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

Descending Memories--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

Descending Memories

In the stillness of night

my friend’s journey ended,

sorrow consumed my soul;

words of good-bye

hung helplessly on my tongue.

I welcome the descent

of memories, which come

like snowflakes settling on my mind

reflections of hikes through woods

and along mountain paths.

The duration of our friendship was short;

yet, I was incredibly blessed

that God sent into my heart

such a steadfast friend.

For as long as I have memory,

I will celebrate the life of my friend

in visionary splendors of descending memories:

but only God can heal a grieving heart.

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.

Haiku--By Pravat Kumar Padhy--India

morning solitude--
the buds burst into
colours
_______________

first death anniversary
a lone leaf on the withered
branch
_______________

sign language--
the memories float
with clouds
_______________

foggy morning--
your waving hand
speaks to me
_______________

Pravat Kumar Padhy hails from Odisha, India. He did his Master of Science and has a
Ph.D from IIT-Dhanbad. His short poems, haiku, tanka and haibun have appeared in various venues such as Chrysanthemum, Simply Haiku, Red lights, Ribbons, tinywords, Modern Haiku, Lilliput Review, Under the Basho, The Heron’s Nest, Shamrock, A Hundred Gourds, Bottle Rockets, Asahi Haikuist Network, Frogpond, and Acorn. He is a recipient of Editor’s Choice awards, Special and Honourable Mentions. Songs of Love: A Celebration published by Writers Workshop, Calcutta is his latest collection. http://pkpadhy.blogspot.com

In Times of Trouble--By Mary Jo Balistreri--United States

In Times of Trouble

            after psalm 27

You,

Lord are

my light and

my salvation.

You came to my aid

through the voice of a friend

suggesting we write a prayer-

poem each morning. I was empty

and hurting, full of guilt and self-doubt.

You held my heart and dressed my wounds. Praise God.

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 maryjobalistreripoet.com

Haiku--By Anna Maris--Sweden

spring morning

in the hands of the child –

daffodils!

_________________

high speed train
along the railway line
wild apple trees

_________________

first light
shadows of branches
stroke the bedroom ceiling

_________________

insomnia

in my water glass

moonbeams

_________________

The poems were previously published in Daily Haiku, Cycle 20

Anna Maris is a Swedish haiku poet who writes haiku and their linked forms in Swedish and English. She has two poetry collections of her own: Skiftningar (2013) and Transport (2015), both published by Miders förlag. Her work appears in a number of journals and anthologies, including those of Red Moon Press. http://annamaris.wordpress.com

You Can't Fool A Poem--By Judy Moskowitz--United States

You Can't Fool A Poem

Did you think I wouldn't find you

Hiding inside pro-nouns

Sliding between phrases

Trying to tenderize your meat

You can't fool a poem

When your back is turned

It will expose you in its ink

Fully dressed within the margins

Of cleverness and rhyme

You can't fool a poem

Once the ink has dried

Judy Moskowitz is a professional jazz pianist originally from N.Y.C. now residing in Florida.  She started writing poetry three years ago and has recently been published.   Her poems will be in an anthology book by Michael Lee Johnson.   She has also been published by Thepoetrycommunity and Indiana Voice Journal for the May edition. Music is in her veins alongside poetry.