Salve for Soul--By Cindy Hutchings--United States

Salve for Soul

The Universe
doesn’t judge

instead teaches lessons
in response to our every intention

so we can achieve balance
grow in spirit, evolve as humanity

gain clarity
intelligence, wisdom

know tolerance, acceptance
compassion, boundless love

in this era of materialism, desperation
escalating violence, expanding war zones

what lessons will we choose
on our path toward healing, wholeness…

Cindy Hutchings 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 shared online at QuillandParchment.com and http://artwithaheart-forum.tumblr.com. Cindy’s first poetry chapbook, Tree Talk, was published by MoonPath Press in 2015.

Perhaps Not My Overzealous Foot--By Learnmore Edwin Zvada--Zimbabwe

Perhaps Not My Overzealous Foot

I cannot take you on my date tonight
You continue to add injury to my amorous impediment
I have gone from date to date
Walking this forever path with you
You are slow at your step
Every time we set out to hunt for ‘the one’
You linger to caress those shapely pebbles by the brook
I cannot trust you to let me go once you are tamed
The scented flowers of the forest lie in wait
For that day you take me into the April sunset
I cannot discern the color you are
You go from feisty to dull
From glum to twinkle
Someday you're heavy at my standing
To bend me over when you are too lazy to heave
In a near mo you could fashion another disturbing gait
Wobbling under the scrutiny of a potential mate  
Stay this expedition my foot
Perhaps and another day as I implore

Learnmore Edwin Zvada is a Zimbabwean poet with a desire to inspire and amuse people with poetry. Currently he is working on his first poetry book. 

The First Time I Saw You--By Michael Escoubas--United States

The First Time I Saw You

you danced with lilacs scenting

the spring air. Petunias and bluebells

clapped their hands. Forsythia

and red bud tangled in a clash

of color. When you turned,

your yellow hair shifted shoulders.

I thought your eyes caught mine,

but I couldn’t let you know

I saw you seeing me. I thought,

who would look at this clod in the field?

I’m uncool, except for hearing

poetry’s music. This mistress

of words holds me, yet denies

completeness. But, in you I feel

poetry’s promises. The brushings

of your dress gives voice and image

to lines crying for habitation. You

live in these lines, after all these years,

as from the first time I saw you.

Previously Published in the July 2016 Issue of Episteme Online Poetry Journal.

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.”

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

Beached

     wet sand

   between my toes

       warm sun

   on my back

  sea breeze

full of salt

  incoming tide

       my castle

     floats

   away

Robert P. Hansen thanks those of you who nominated his science fiction novel Please Don’t Eat the Penguins on Kindle Scout. Unfortunately, they decided not to publish it so he has done so himself. He has also published the first book of his new series, Aftermath, which is a sequel to his Angus the Mage fantasy series. For links to online retailers, visit his blog at: rphansenauthorpoet.wordpress.com   

Shadow Love--By Don Beukes--United Kingdom

Shadow Love

Love burns without prior warning

or even manifests itself just by

finally, locking eyes with the right

one, however long it takes to find

each other in this vast ocean of

humanity – A smile a touch an

accidental skin brush ignites a spark

momentarily disintegrating the dark –

As love grows and come to fruition

it becomes our life-long mission to

fight for it, protect it, embracing it

but nothing's changed – The world might

feel liberated from old notions of

biblical taboos, who to choose –

Connecting life's clues but we

know the truth – A smirk, a cutting

remark made in jest, a social comment

in silent protest – To truly love is

admittedly tough, as we valiantly

defend – Our shadow love...

Don Beukes is a retired teacher of English who now devotes more time to share his words with our global village. Originally from Cape Town, South Africa, he grew up and was educated during the last two decades of Apartheid and want to share his literal mentality in order to enable others to adjust their moral compass in an ever-changing society. He also writes under the alias of SalamanDer.

Flight--By Rick Parise--United States

Flight

Upon the lilting breeze
I fly
of colored prisms
and wafting dream

Beyond the worries
of silent need
where vanishing doubt
birth infinite seeds

Beyond   Beyond
clouds rolling low
where stardust vision
I am taken home

Upon the lilting breeze
I fly

Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon.  The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirits are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at rapondering@yahoo.com  

Editor's Thoughts--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Dear Whispers’ Friends,

As the Olympics have unfolded, one is heartened to see nations come together for these events.  Cheering others on and rejoicing in what the athletes are accomplishing is a lesson for our world leaders.  No one can rise up alone.

Olympic torch

flame transfers from hand

to hand…citius

Olympic rings

flying on flags over

the stadium…altius

Olympic stage

global athletes

shake hands…fortius

Olympic flame

the beginning…citius

altius, fortius…the end

Note--First stanza of this series published by David McMurray in Asahi Haikuist Network, August 2016

So much of what the Olympics represents can be said of writing as we bridge borders in a global community, transferring knowledge of our craft and encouraging others.  And in sharing the light, our own flames become brighter.

A few days ago, Mary Ricketson emailed me this, “Thank you for making the world smaller so we can all touch each other.”  So as the athletes come together in Rio, we come together at Whispers.  It is in the gathering of many that makes us one.

Thank you contributors and readers for supporting and encouraging the talented Whispers’ poets.  And today, I sit back in my chair realizing how grateful I am.

Blessings and best wishes to all,

Karen

The Great Artist--By Martha Magenta--United Kingdom

The Great Artist

We sit and watch the perfect day's end.

Pageants of color as the sun descends,

Floats precarious with sanguine glow.

Flourishes of light, love and life bestows,

Paints the evening sky with wanton hues,

Crimson, scarlet, yellow, and blue.

The flamboyant artist thus emblazons

Heaven, then dips below the horizon,

Painting iridescent waves of the sea

That dance and glisten in a final spree,

While dark shadows stretch like lazy dreamers

Basking in deep red sunset streamers.

Now as darkness spreads like indigo dye,

A myriad stars adorn the night sky.

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/      

Screwdriver Mathematics--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Screwdriver Mathematics

Lying up under the car

on the floor of the garage

I see his little feet arrive,

the shadow of his head

bending down to ask,

“Whattaya want, Dad?”

“Hand me that number two Phillips

on the workbench over there, son.”

I watch him switch his weight

from one little foot to the other,

step away, start back, stop,

turn around and then

scamper back to the car, 

leaning lower to ask,

“Dad, is the Phillips a plus or a minus?"

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.

Time--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

Time

Life is a journey, a moment of time,

Like the verse is to a Poet, a passage of rhyme.

The pendulum swings and we are a part,

Of this cutting edge, that tears at the heart.

We give it our best and feel the effect,

Of all that diminishes, leaving us vexed.

Yet, beauty's part of it, it paints every scene,

That causes the dreamer, to dream every dream.

What motivates all that a love's yet to lose?

Having constantly given, more life than they choose.

We see that the hours, or minutes pursued,

Are just a small part of a life to be viewed.

If age, or indifference, can change everyone,

So seconds, meet minutes and immortals begun.

Like lightening that breaks through the earth in a flash.

Is that moment of time in a soul that has passed.

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.

Le Cygne (The Swan)--Ken Allan Dronsfield--United States

Le Cygne (The Swan)

Late afternoon at the lake in July

sun relents and finally ends the day.

our journée is gone much too soon,

upon a breeze come the wing beats; 

a snow white beauty of Le Cygne.

It's been months since she flew south

her two young cygnets and mate for life.

she glides now alone; of a silent grace;

her love is now gone, taken by strife.

consumed by her loss; I feel the tears

yearning for happier and joyful times.

flash, flying fast and then a quick turn,

her two Cygnets now land by her side.

The rising moon shimmers upon the water

I think of times, before my own love passed

across the lake, with her son and daughter,

Swims to me, then raises her head with pride.

'love is lost; love is left; life goes on', Le Cygne.

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet and author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the co-editor of the new poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in journals, magazines and blogs throughout the web including: Indiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.

From the Archives—Featuring Joann Grisetti, Kelley White, Charlene McCutcheon, and Emile Pinet

Today, I am happy to showcase ninettes from Joann Grisett’s October 2015 Activity Column.  She did a great job choosing the poems to showcase.  Thank you so much, Joann.

The criteria for the form is (if you would like to try this form feel free to post your poems in the comments section) --

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

Thank you, Joann Grisetti, Kelley White, Charlene McCutcheon, and Emile Pinet for sharing your gifts of words. There were so many creative poems, the choice of what to share wasn’t easy.  I am trying to feature different poets for these columns so that everyone gets a chance to shine.

                                                  --Karen O’Leary, Whispers’ Editor

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

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

By Joann Grisetti

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

dawn
lily
pond reflects
orange yellow red
autumn trees’ glory
so brilliant now
then fading
into
dusk

By Kelley White

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

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

found

By Charlene McCutcheon

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

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

By Emile Pinet

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

Who Are We?--By Renee’ Drummond-Brown--United States

Who Are We?

I don’t know us anymore

Has time re-written our lies

Do we not speak

Of truths

Yet

Rely on blind guides

The poetic scribes

Tell tales

O’

Seasons

For all time

Don’t know us anymore

No heart beat

Nada rhythm

Nor rhyme

Just texting’s left

As

Zombies silently cry

Who are we?

I don’t know anymore.

Renee’ Drummond-Brown, is an accomplished poetess/writer. She is a graduate of Geneva College (CUBM) with experience in creative writing. She is working on her fourth book and has numerous works published globally. Her love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through her very unique style of poetry. Renee’ is inspired by non-other than Dr. Maya Angelou, because of her, Renee’ pledges “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

Haibun: The messenger--By Angelee Deodhar--India

Haibun: The messenger

Predawn dark…unable to sleep, I open the door and step out on to the lawn, look around the potted plants and suddenly see one pure white flower in full bloom. I marvel at its perfection and touch its petals gently…then I come inside and read about it.

I go outside again and photograph it to send it by email to a friend half way across the world…

                                   weaving into

                               that relationship once more-

                                 one frayed thread

*The white hibiscus a perennial with healing properties, is a symbol of divinity, innocence, purity and royal beauty. In Japanese hanakotoba, the hibiscus means “gentle” and it can be given to more or less anyone simply as a nice present, there are no strong emotions or questions of relationships attached to it.

Previously published Haibun Today, Volume 8, Number 1, March 2014

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

Delights of Autumn--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

Delights of Autumn

Lemonade cravings,

lazy moods,

sentiment remembering’s,

hypnotic currents of air

that caress the body,

soothing melodies from

the "bird" choir,

anticipation of nature's

changing landscape,

a smile for no reason 

other than the season,

an evening walk downtown

just for the sake of creating

a memory.

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. 

Flaming Wings--By Blanca Alicia Garza--United States

Flaming Wings

She had fire
on her wings,
and deep wounds
in her heart,
reborn like a phoenix
from the burning
ashes of Hell,
she had a shattered soul
and it was coming out
through her eyes,
warm and salty tears
like an endless rain.
But still she is not defeated,
she'll wipe her tears and
spread her wings wider,
the time to soar even
higher has come.

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

Summer on Lake Michigan--By Charlotte Digregorio--United States

Summer on Lake Michigan

No salt air,

no booming waves,

the folding ocean waves

of my surfer youth.

No jagged monoliths

or coastal mountains of

black bear and elk,

my childhood mysteries.

Just the lake’s equilibrium

in morning light and soft air,

small white footprints to trace.

Not even a stone’s throw

disturbs the lull.

Ripples float away

with thoughts of my thoughts

reaching sky’s end.

Charlotte Digregorio is the author of five award-winning non-fiction books and one poetry collection. Her latest book is Haiku and Senryu: A Simple Guide for All. Digregorio has won thirty-nine poetry awards, writing eleven forms, and was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her poetry is exhibited at libraries, convention centers, and on public transit, among other places. She served the Haiku Society of America for many years as an officer and hosted her own radio poetry program on public broadcasting. She blogs at www.charlottedigregorio.wordpress.com   

As Earth Wilts--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada

As Earth Wilts

Water trickles along the banks
Dry season had dehydrated most of the moisture
Leaving the once muddy surface looking weathered
Cracks now form along the edges
The rains did not appear
Plants have withered and dried
Seeds that fell will have to germinate next year
Time marks each generation
We take this earth for granted
Until our lives become disrupted
And the beauty that was created for us ... wilts

Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on Poetry.com and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Mary Jo Balistreri and Michael Escoubas, United States

Witness

By Mary Jo Balistreri

and Michael Escoubas

As the storm comes

closer

the bent-limbed oaks

offer shelter

to fluttering finches,

yellow-slick feathers

curled into

golden balls

ornaments

of hope

in a deep-rumble sky

As the storm departs

farther

the mighty oaks

straighten

strain relieved

golden balls

uncurl, no less

the ornaments

they used to be

as the pearl moon rises

in a storm-washed sky.

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

The Candle Has Gone Out

Another day,

Another night,

Will it be dark?

Will it be bright?

Love the day,

Love the night,

Enjoy each day,

Enjoy each night,

For life is like a candle

That one day will burn out,

It does not burn forever,

One day it will go out.

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

Dear Whispers Family,

It is a pleasure to share another poem in tribute to Beth. Sadly, we said good-bye to her in October 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 2015 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

Comets--By Langley Shazor--United States

Comets

Falling stars

Twinkling at arms’ length

Shimmering above the ground

Suspended by their own force

Light travels much faster

Dazzlingly quick

Waiting not for it to reach our eyes

But for it to simply appear again

Visual love songs

Performed in unison

Meticulously choreographed

Each night danced away

In this vastness

The absence of light

Reveals the beauty of another sort

Two worlds blended perfectly

And this moment

I am a traveler

Moving through space and time

Sailing across the cosmos

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.

Tanka--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada

a wine glass
of the winter sky ...
silence
and my shadow
wait side by side
_____________

winter moon
like mother's earring
against the sky ...
nostalgia holds me
through this long night

_____________

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/

Divine Time--By Mary Ricketson--United States

Divine Time                                    

A waning moon wiles behind the treetops

down toward Rose Creek, settling time                                                

before the world wakes up.

Days grow short, air crisps, winter looms.

Tall Queen Anne’s lace and purple ironweed

grace the field in this darkness.

Here in my divine time,

floundering for a thread of peace

to hold all day long,

I wonder and wait.

What will daylight expose?

Seeds of fortune fall by chance.

What will move into all the spaces

left by falling leaves

and the one who walked away?

Mary Ricketson is inspired by nature.  Her poetry is published in Wild Good Poetry Review, Future Cycle Press, Journal of Kentucky Studies, Lights in the Mountains, Echoes Across the Blue Ridge, and her books, I Hear the River Call My Name and Hanging Dog Creek.  She is a member of North Carolina Writers Network.

Remembrance--By Aparna Pathak--India

Remembrance

He would walk with a little more stress on right leg. His long eye lashes would make him look shy and sober. In his nicely combed straight hairs, he would carry a mother's love. Many times I played hide and seek in his house, but he was never part of the game; any game. I would often peep into his study room with my paws, carefully kept on the floor not to make noise. As a result, I didn't hear his voice either.

Then they say he went for an adventurous boat ride not to return ever and want me to believe.

I believe; I hardly knew him.

boundary 

I can't see the petals

close to the wall

Aparna Pathak is a freelance writer from Gurugram, Haryana (India) who finds writing Japanese forms to be soulful. Her work appears in 8th Yamadera Basho Memorial English Haiku, Hedgerow, Prune Juice, Presence, Akisame (Newsle'er of European Haiku society), Chrysanthemum, Creatrix, Heron’s Nest and is upcoming in the fall issue of Wild Plum. Recently she was Haiku Master of the month for April by NHK world TV program-Haiku Masters that also featured one of her photo haiku in July. She has a haiku commended in IAFOR haiku awards 2016. 

The Storm--By Suzanne Clement--United States

The Storm

The high waves that pound on the shore

Are made by the Lord whom I adore.

As they break upon the sand,

I know it’s the work of God’s hand.

In the darkness of the night,

I see their caps of white

And hear them as they pound

Making a thundering sound.

But in the midst

Of all this

God is here.

I need have no fear.

For my Lord and Guide

is here beside

Me. So I’m not alone

Though the wind may moan

And howl and screech and wail,

God’s presence here shall not fail!

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

Color Blind--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States

Color Blind

I approach her with the same
Love I approach my family with.
Her skin is black.
I try to speak a few words in her
Native language to welcome her.
Her skin is brown.
I married a Chinese/Hawaiian
and our child is beautiful.
Her skin is yellow/brown.
I write poetry about the Native
Americans to celebrate them.
Their skin is red.
I fit in with every race because
My color contains all colors.
My skin is white.

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

Invisible Touch--By George L. Ellison--England

Invisible Touch

One more night that’s all I ask

Do you remember Sussudio?

When we had separate lives

Our Two hearts were in

Two different worlds every day

Then our true colours appeared

As I followed you just as you had followed me

When an invisible touch in the air tonight

Meant something happened

On the way to heaven

As our land of confusion

Became another day in paradise

George L. Ellison is a writer of poetry and short stories. He has published three books called Poetic Reminiscences, Weaving Words and Reflections. George lives with his wife and dogs in Chester-Le-Street, County Durham in England. He is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and owner of Poetry and short story ink.  George has a Facebook Author page and is currently working on various projects as well as learning to play the saxophone at the Sage Gateshead!

deep throated thunder--By Sondra J. Byrnes--United States

deep throated thunder

after the monsoon

a light rain

apology

summer rain

lichen on the stones

brightens

scent of sage

released by rain—

night vision

after the rainstorm

last drops from the roof 

voice silence

Sondra J. Byrnes, relatively new to writing poetry, writes haiku, senryu, and tanka.  Her poetry has been published in Frogpond, Prune Juice, A Hundred Gourds, Ribbons, Modern Haiku, The Heron’s Nest, Moongarlic, among others.  Along with short form poetry, Byrnes is interested in ikebana and chanoyu.  Byrnes is a retired law and business professor from the University of Notre Dame; she lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. 

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

The American Way

What do I do when visiting Los Angeles

not add to traffic and pollution

or hire a car ? No contest -

the American way to get around

Choose my moment, 4 a.m. is pretty good,

by six freeway is misnamed, movement measured in yards.

But get anywhere, there’s some thing there -

created the American way in countless songs and flicks

L A’s positively a repository of the American way

a welcome of energy activity and glamour;

driving, lost, but vaguely in a right direction

I find that one essential more :

truly the American way to make my heart stop;

hidden by roadside greenery a faded sign

brings tears of joy, for abandoned in the American way

as no longer important, but forever so to me

A shield on a lopsided pole leaps out, then gone

and on that shield, my symbol of the American way

are those trusted, rusted, magic, nostalgia-kicking words

and yes, I got my kicks, on “Route 66” !

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.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By ayaz daryl nielsen and Peggy Dugan French--United States

Beginnings

By ayaz daryl nielsen and Peggy Dugan French

Under my foot

The snap of a twig

Hollow as the wind

Restlessness

Moves me forward

Every curve in the trail

A welcome embrace

The day is singing

Come, we’ll cross

Our old boundaries

Exhaling peace

Rejoicing

Our new beginnings