She filled...By Vasanthi S. Pillai--India

She filled empty jam jars
with broken pieces of old walls
that remembered her blank stares and boredom,
and sometimes the jar looked like
rain-kissed window panes
from last night's tear-soaked memory trains,
and some other times
the jar would echo
the happy songs she taught her walls
during her humming sprees.
The lid on top, she thought,
would bottle all the emotions,
but she learnt
love could never be fenced,
for her eyes gave it away,
every time.

Vasanthi is a dreamer who completely enjoys writing and reading poetry, and every piece of her work is the result of a conversation with her soul.

In Grace Thereof--By Rick Parise--United States

In Grace Thereof

Like the babbling brook

The spirit yearns

Of quiet moments

The heart discerns

To deny the flesh

And feed thy soul

To hear the voice

Still and small

Like flowering Love

A King Of Kings

Of Knowledge and Wisdom

If to believe

A gracious promise

Set forth in love

In quiet moments

In Grace thereof

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  

Silly Woman--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands

Silly Woman

(Limacross)

Shirebrook woman we all thought a fool

Idiotic and not very cool

Living to play bingo

Luck left her this we know

You’d think her very rich with deep pool

When all her money was spent and gone

Openly broke she still carried on

Making every end meet

Approaching folk on street

Now begging just to finance her fun

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

Girl with an Attitude--By Maralee Gerke--United States

Girl with an Attitude

No one sits near her.

She radiates attitude.

Mouth turned down lips pouting,

arms crossed over an undeveloped chest,

a cup of coffee cooling on the book strewn table.

Lank-haired and pale complexioned

she looks through me

a blank, closed, stare.

with I remember that introspective loner,

the girl who lost herself in books.

I walk on by.

She sits alone

in a bookstore coffee shop

just holding on and holding in

all that should be released.

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.

Magical--By Gopal Lahiri--India

Magical

Shadows, whose faces are there?

missing the known vowel, beneath water,

what works is the calling

of the whooshing water fowl.

explore the miracle, a gallant kingfisher

in flight looking effortless.

rambling, wavering, erratic
the wind breaks out in savage laughter,
the distant coast takes a sharp turn
for the rugged cliff.

like an advanced wave
rolling on the yellow sand bed,
the words living for the moment
turn into something magical.

whispers surviving the past,

take to the ground,

the broken crustaceans
crack open the memories

of the bursting seeds

living together for ages.

Gopal Lahiri was born and grew up in Kolkata. He currently lives in Mumbai, India. He is a bilingual poet, writer, editor, critic and translator and widely published in Bengali and English language. He poetry has appeared in National Treasures, Indus Valley, Taj Mahal Review, Muse India, Tuck Magazine, and a variety of other venues. He has jointly edited the anthology of poems: Scaling Heights and is the recipient of the Poet of the Year award in Destiny Poets, UK, 2016. He can be reached at glahiri@gmail.com     

My Mother Doesn’t Live Here Anymore--By Shelly Blankman--United States

My Mother Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

Her brain is scavenged now by the scarab beetles

of Alzheimer’s, leaving mom drifting into a starless

night, her sky blue eyes clouded, her words soft and

scrambled, anagrams on a page that can’t be turned.

memories gnawed away... marathon games of Scrabble,

listening to Sinatra swing, gushing over old movie stars,

like the time she met Dick Powell. I wonder if those moments

are locked somewhere in the prison of her mind. Her land is

strange, her language foreign. She is a child, wanting a cookie

she cannot name or reach. Her rehab is her crib she cannot

escape, no matter how hard she tries. I leave her screams, leaving

bloodless stab wounds of a scalpel. The demon of disease stole

her brain, her body, but wears her face. She doesn’t live here anymore.

She doesn’t live anywhere. Not the mother I knew. And when the

darkness swallows the sun and her lids droop over her glazed eyes,

I kiss her goodbye, perhaps for the last time. Her midnight is unending.

She’ll never know I was there but I will. I’ll remember the smell of tea with

honey, the warm sheets that smelled like her, the cool fresh air on my face

as she sang with Sinatra...and I smile through my tears.

Shelly Blankman and her husband are empty-nesters who live in Columbia, Maryland with their 4 cat rescues. They have two sons: Richard, 32, of New York, and Joshua, 30, of San Antonio. Her first love has always been poetry, although her career has generally followed the path of public relations/journalism. Besides Whispers, Shelly's poetry has been published by Silver Birch Press, Verse-Virtual, Ekphrastic: writing and art on art and writing and Visual Verse.

Shifting Sands--By Annie Jenkin--England

Shifting Sands

Fingers clasped in secret dreams,
the silence echoes, might have been...
The shifting surf on shimmering sand,
or a stolen kiss upon a hand,

and you and I together there,
the perfect pair.
Yet, as the tides plot our course
in the morning when I am gone,

If memories still linger on,
look out to sea--I will be there
as the whispering breeze in your hair,
the surf a tender kiss,
and through my life and of my choice
I know your love I will miss.

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.

Remembrance--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States

Remembrance

A silent whisper of

"I love you" revisited

my mind this holiday

season, just as it has 

in times past.  Memories

filter through the present 

as if they were here today, 

occupying a place in my heart

where the little boy absolutely

adored his dad, but times have 

changed, dad is now resting 

with the Heavenly Father, 

and the little boy is now a man,

yet the heart stays the same,

connecting with the mind to

keep afresh what he meant

to me, and to softly echo,

"I love you and miss you."

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. 

Forgotten--By Dan Tharp--United States

Forgotten

long forgotten, the memories fade as fog

dissipates in the morning

hours of warming when

      the sun kisses the earth.

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

her outline, left undefined,

is the wisp of wind blown in

on an unknown breeze...

about which there is no previous

knowledge of her origins or

      her destinations.

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

whether blessing, whether curse...

only the returns will reveal

what wages lie in store for the capability

of forgetting what one never intended to remember or

what one intended but

      was not capable.

Dan Tharp is the author of four books of poetry, 3 of which are in chapbook form... Side by Side, Yielding Desire to Fate, A Season Made for Wondering and A Rose in the Briar Patch. Dan resides in Southern California.

Welcome, Welcome!--By Aju Mukhopadhyay--India

Welcome, Welcome! 

After the copious rains

during the small hours of the morning

copper colour Sun rising above the awning

water glistening on the leaves

and atop the grass head

ever fresh smell

rising from the soil

overwhelm me with all their wonder

beyond any human fervor; 

beyond the human nests

roads and traffic order

beyond the trees and bushes

chirping birds

a gleam spreads over the seas and hills and meadows

beyond the horizon without shadows;

without a desire an aspiration soon

rises up to the sky

grateful for the unasked for boon

without a desideratum

welcome, welcome!

Aju Mukhopadhyay, a bilingual award winning poet, author and critic, writes fictions and essays too. He has authored 32 books and received several poetry awards from India and USA besides other honours. Recently he has received Albert Camus Centenary Writing Award, 2013 from Canada / Cyprus. He is a regular contributor to various magazines and e-zines in India and abroad. He is in the editorial and advisory board of some important literary journals. His poems and short stories have been widely anthologised and translated. 

Oh beautiful twilight--By Adam Levon Brown--United States

Oh beautiful twilight

How l long to see

your return on this

hazy Juniper summer day.

I wait to see your

jewels of encrusted hope

bleeding through the black

canvas.

I wait for the Cicadas

to begin their rhythmic

waltz in my green-stained

tree fort yard.

Oh beautiful twilight,

bless us with your

presence once more.

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

Feast Upon Your Words--By Emile Pinet--Canada

Feast Upon Your Words

Greetings, all you literary ghosts,

haunting old reams like attentive hosts.

What secrets will you reveal tonight,

or magic wish will you bring to light?

Adventure appeals to every age,

as stories flow from the written page.

Will you sail a pirate ship with me,

our hearts consumed by love of the sea?

Perhaps instead we will chart the stars,

or peruse old scrolls stored in clay jars.

And turn snips of exaggeration,

into tales of imagination.

For it's your subtle wisdom I find

wafting into my subconscious mind.

Feed me lines of hope, heroes and nerds,

for I wish to feast upon your words.

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. 

The Big Party Upstairs--By Stacy Savage--United States

The Big Party Upstairs

Now the princess has the force
Since her soul has headed north.
The grizzly man who had played with bears
Rode his cycle to the land upstairs.
In a love story that does not end,
The former First Lady is with her best friend.
He wanted us to laugh in the Purple Rain
And now he smiles where legends reign.
The starman who sung of outer space
Is now in a much better place,
Just like the astronaut who left this world
For endless peace through gates a'pearled.
The homeless man who would always roam
Now has refuge and a place to call home.
In 2016, many left us behind,
And now they party, like it's 1999!

Stacy Savage has published six books. Her recent anthology, Naturally Yours: Poems and Short Stories about Indiana State Parks and Reservoirs, benefits Indiana Natural Resources Foundation's "Discovering the Outdoors Fund.” Stacy believes in mixing poetry and good causes together. Visit her Facebook page to keep up-to-date on her poetry contests: https://www.facebook.com/poetrycontestsforacause.   

From the Archives—Featuring Peggy Dugan French

Dear Whispers’ Readers,

Once again, it is a joy to travel back into our Whispers’ archives, and savor the wonderful poetry within its pages. In searching for a poem that encompasses thoughts echoed by others yet stands as creative experience, Peggy’s words reached out to me.  Her “on the road” is fitting for our journey forward. Her song is a timeless. Congratulations Peggy! Thank you being a beacon at Whispers and in the poetry community at large.

In addition, today is our Four-Year Anniversary.  Thank you all for making this hallmark possible.

Blessings,

Karen O’Leary—Whispers’ Editor

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

that song 

the one that lingers deep into the night

brings a smile of remembrance

or a tear of regret

soothes a broken heart

calms a ragged soul

simmers in the midnight hour

leisurely entertains on Sunday mornings

gently lulls a child to sleep

introduces the kids to the classics

blares from a teenager’s room

fills the house with holiday traditions

keeps us company on the road

gracefully fills a wedding aisle

and hovers over a final resting place with honor

of the many songs that fill our past
nothing compares to the song that is us

By Peggy Dugan French

Postcard View--By Paul Callus--Malta

Postcard View (Acrostic)

Proudly she stands on slopes covered in snow

One graceful woodland deer her eyes aglow

She strikes a pose unmoving, head held high

Twitching her ears as flapping birds go by.

Catching the light of early morning sun

Across the stream reflected colours run.

Right by the lake the drifting mist lies low

Deliberating: should it stay or go?

Voraciously I feast on nature’s fare

Intense the bliss which fills my heart and soul

Ethereal the mood that tempts to share

With my obliging muse...she makes me whole.

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.

Sunrise Emblazons--By Diane Webster--United States

Sunrise Emblazons

I pause in the reflection of the sunrise
emblazoned across swirly cloud tails
left behind by hulking masses made
lighter by golden red colors sloshed
upon the once-grey pre-dawn backdrop
soon to drown in morning ascent
while pickups, cars, SUVs roll
through the four-way-stop intersection
probably unseeing of the spectacular
unless I am the spectacle standing
on the sidewalk in six-degree weather
like a scarecrow gazing at its winter field.

Diane Webster grew up in Eastern Oregon before she moved to Colorado.  She enjoys drives in the mountains to view all the wildlife and scenery and takes amateur photographs.  Writing poetry provides a creative outlet exciting in images and phrases Diane thrives in.  Her work has appeared in The Hurricane Review, Eunoia Review, Illya's Honey, and other literary magazines.

A Thankful Heart--By Sheryl Splane--Canada

A Thankful Heart

There is joy in all situations,
Though hidden and not in plain view.
When we discover its secret,
Then it will appear in its hue.

The secret of joy and contentment,
Is something we all can know.
The key that we need is a thankful heart,
Then blessings will overflow.

All we have and are is much nicer,
Accepted with true gratitude.
A spirit of joy and thanksgiving,
Brings on a much happier mood.

Learn to say "Thank-you" in spite of the odds,
Which aren't in our favour at times.
That's how to gain the fullness of life,
With peace in our hearts and our minds.

Sheryl Splane spent several years as a missionary in Senegal, Africa. She had to come home due to health problems, but part of her heart remains there... Sheryl now cares for the elderly, for whom she has a special love. Sheryl lives in Hanover, Ontario, Canada, near her parents. She and her dad both play several musical instruments. They go to senior residents in their area, entertaining the residents with music and gospel messages. 

Found It--By Cindy Hutchings--United States

Found It

(Inspired by the memory of Prince)

Let it be
what it wants

a song, a poem

let it flow
through the strings, the pen

find life       in your hand

give yourself   to it
let it play, pour, soar

go in, explore

your journey
your quest

rising within, wellspring

come again       to the source
find where       you     need to be

take others with you.

Cindy Hutchings’ first poetry chapbook, "Tree Talk," was published by MoonPath Press; info is at: http://moonpathpress.com/CindyHutchings.htm. Her poetry is also shared online at QuillandParchment.com. 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.

Spring, the New Season--By George L. Ellison--England

Spring, the New Season

Clouds are riding highway up in the sky

I feel that spring is around the corner

And that warmer temperatures are nigh

Buds will soon bloom

The sun appears earlier at daybreak

I’ll soon hear the first cuckoo a calling

As the woodland and their flowers awake

Fields a flower

It is the most beautiful of seasons

It feels like the dawning of a new year

That we all have so many good reasons

Goodbye to gloom

Off we go out to walk o’er hill and dale

Rambling along the roads and byways with

The sun on our backs and wind in our sail

Beware shower

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!

Birthday at Tatum Park--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand

Birthday at Tatum Park

a chilly August windless blue sky day

and the elegantly served afternoon tea

of Earl Grey and English Breakfast

with silver pots and fine bone china

gladden the eyes glazed with cataract

and distracts the minds from rheumatic limbs

later we walk amongst the statues of trees

planted by settlers over a century ago

the camera in my hands awaits to capture

the face of a child of seventy-five this day

pinched, wrinkled, thinning bright white hair

with aloof but thick knowing eyes

lens pointed to immortalise the nostalgia

please, she says gently, don't

I look so different from how I feel

her remark astounds me

I put the camera away and

leave this moment alone

Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia. She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published. 

Night Watchman--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Night Watchman

He checks his sleeping child, now a woman,

moves closer, listens, watches her breathe.

As if she knows, opens her eyes, asks

Is that you, Dad?

“Yes, you’re dreaming, go back to sleep.”

His sleeping child, now a woman,

forever his little girl.

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

When--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

When

When springtime comes and all is fresh and green

When all the wiles of winter have been seen.

When days lengthen and sunrise warms the earth,

When starts a new beginning, and a new rebirth.

When empty fields, now sown, will often produce,

When seagulls fly and to the earth will roost.

When seedlings greet the hope that fills my days,

When this one soul, will give to God the Praise.

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.

Poetry Moments--By Marilyn Ward--United Kingdom

frost moon

it's glowing behind

the steel plant 

____________

train window

i read the news

in reverse 

____________

through the window

it waves at me

the last rhuss leaf

____________

snowdrift

the child steps

into daddy's shoe prints 

____________

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. 

The Wanton Mind--By Diana Dalton--United States

The Wanton Mind

  

It rambles in wants

Raves and haunts

Sprinkles of carnal fun

Many a yarn spun

  

In circles, it goes

Puts on enticing shows

Rerun after rerun

Old pains redone

A hamster wheel mind

Will so easily blind  

Our hearts to peace

& endless increase

  

Be still my soul

Within is whole

Within the lamb

Still, know I am

Diana Dalton was born in England. She grew up loving the county side which later developed and inspired her desire to capture those beautiful moments which she does through her poetry, her spiritual nature and photography. Though not a prolific writer Diana has had her poems read on Dutch radio, and has been featured in some American compilations of poetry. She will dabble and challenge herself with some recognized forms, yet most often, Diana likes the freedom of words and will take some poetic license even to inventing nonexistent words together with her husband and fellow poet, Yancy Dalton.

Vapor Trail Dreams, From Paper Airplanes--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States

Vapor Trail Dreams, From Paper Airplanes

Walking on clouds in the heavenly blue

In a job that I loved, with a sky view,

Let me travel with a smile on my face.

I've sojourned afar in aloha's grace.

Every city, every place had a song...

A melody played as I sang along.

As many years passed and I longed for home

I gave up my wings; no longer would roam.

Island of pineapples and sugarcanes,

Vapor trail dreams, from paper airplanes,

Memories now, I recall from above

Have left me contented with my sweet love.

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.

I See Her Hands--By Indunil Madhusankha--Sri Lanka

I See Her Hands

I see her hands

when she dearly holds

mine with hers

She has cold, but lingering hands

So, I can still feel the very warmth

The skin shrivelled and

clustered with lifeless wrinkles

They have a pinkish hue

and a scatter of dark red spots

Her aged hands are the portrait

of a great life story

daubed with enormous sweat and tears

The reflection of a triumphant odyssey

full of love, courage and perseverance

and also a strength,

a staggering strength,

so lavish to enliven generations

Indunil Madhusankha is a budding young poet from Sri Lanka and is currently reading for a BSc Special Degree in Mathematics in the Faculty of Science of the University of Colombo.

Lady Autumn--By Suzanne Delaney--United States

Lady Autumn

Lady Autumn lies discarded now.

Left alone - her stick- like bones

are lying under trees where they have blown. 

The fiery colors of her verdant dresses lie in brown

 heaped on icy, frosted ground.  

Sparkling gossamer that held her hair in leafy wreaths

now unraveled by bitter winds- almost as if saying 

she must never dance again.  

But promises of spring, in tight buds, appear on dried twigs, 

blowing winds whisper the secrets of emerald, summery green,

stirring within a frozen kingdom's, dormant majesty. 

As Winter makes his stormy presence near,

her blithe light, finally overcome, 

she looks to fading crimson skies

and sees her spirit rise.

Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse.  Born in Tasmania, Australia she is now residing in North Carolina, USA. She has a fond passion for writing poetry, creating mixed media collages, and for traveling. 

Lonely Path (English, German and Spanish)--By Gert W. Knop--Germany

Lonely Path (English)

Oh, the days,

why do they fly by so fast

like migratory birds at the horizon?

The rain over the river

plays with curling

tiny waves.

And now with the approaching evening

the lights glide by,

which shine tired

out of

old lanterns

like silent witnesses

of a past time

and of new loneliness.

The horizon yet shows a small and fainting

red of a now fading sun.

The lonely path gets dark

and quiet

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

Einsamer Weg  (German)

Ach, die Tage,

warum verfliegen sie so schnell

wie Zugvögel am Horizont?

Der Regen über dem Fluss

spielt mit sich kräuselnden

kleinen Wellen.

Und jetzt am nahen Abend

gleiten die Lichter vorbei,

die müde aus

alten Laternen leuchten

wie stumm gewordene Zeugen

einer vergangenen Zeit

und neuer Einsamkeit.

Der Horizont zeigt jetzt schon schwach

vergehend ein kleines

Rot einer sich verlierenden Sonne.

Der einsame Weg wird dunkel

und leise

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

Camino solitario (Spanish)

Oh, los días,

¿Por qué vuelan tan rápido

como aves migratorias en el horizonte?

La lluvia sobre el río

juega con encrespandos

pequeñas olas.

Y ahora con la noche cercana

las luces se deslizan,

que brillan canzadas

de viejos faroles

como testigos silenciosos

de un tiempo pasado

y nueva soledad.

El horizonte ya mostra un pequeño y desvaneciendo

rojo de un sol perdidoso.

El camino solitario se pone oscuro

y silencioso

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

Gert W. Knop, born in 1943, studies art and tropical agriculture in Germany and Scotland (University of Edinburgh). He has lived in many different countries and writes mainly in German, English and Spanish. He currently resides in Zittau (Saxony), Germany. 

Song of the Garden Chimes--By Ken Allan Dronsfield--United States

Song of the Garden Chimes

Steal away at moon rise,

star light from weary eyes,

you will find your spirit drifts

upon soft spring breezes.

Songs from the garden chime

play sonnets on a sprites harp

whispering in shaded scarlet

directly into my wanton heart.

Oceans of grasses gently sway

by the granite wall Robin's dance

enchanted orbs rise from trees

a twilight sky envelops my soul.

Your love keeps my heart smiling,

stars flirt above the garden chimes.

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet who has been nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards for Poetry in 2016. His work has been published world-wide in publications throughout North America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves thunderstorms, and spending time with his cat Willa. Ken's new book, "The Cellaring", a collection of haunting, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through Amazon.com. He is the co-editor of the poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. A second anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses will be released around the first part of 2017.

what was that sound--By Thomas Canull--United States

what was that sound

hearing the voice of an angel

wondering " surely she was

calling me home?"

for my feelings left with the

sound of her sweet voice

and life has suddenly become surreal.

as the ties that bind

have all been cut

there is naught left

but the shadow of my soul.

perhaps tomorrow

will have the answer

to my dilemma.

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.