Morsels--By Mary Ricketson--United States

Morsels                                                                       

Today my fear comes

in a covered dish

disguised with herbs and spices,

made palatable by bits of beef

braised in burgundy,

best features forward.

Starting to love this fear,

I name it Respect,

Sprinkle with safety, trust, and hope’

place the casserole in a slow oven.

Fine cuisine, seasoned and cured,

quiets less welcome morsels

of shame and humility.

Integrity rises, meringues the surface,

tempts taste buds past tradition.

As a therapist, Mary Ricketson works with people with all kinds of feelings.  She helps them integrate the wonderful and the painful to somehow make a life that works and thrives.  This poem reflects how Mary finds creative ways to help others.

Pantone 021*--By Scott Thomas Outlar--United States

Pantone 021*

like a pumpkin

ready to ripen

upon the vine

like a flower

more lovely

than a rose

like red

kissing yellow

until they merge

like carrots

giving sight

to the heart

*Pantone 021 is a shade of orange used in printing

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, and books can be found. He recently received three Pushcart Prize nominations for his work in 2016. Scott serves as an editor for Walking Is Still Honest Press, The Blue Mountain Review, The Peregrine Muse, and Novelmasters.

Haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States

red moon sirens
her old dog teaches
the young one to howl
____________

box lunch
I’m not giving any
secrets away
____________

inspired by
the public fountain
her ballet poses
____________

late afternoon
he repairs the 6 o’clock
side of my watch band
____________

shell fragments
where can I find
my mother now?

____________

Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku.  His most current anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, was released in 2014.

Arthur Rehbein (pseudonym Atz vom Rhyn)—In Memory 1867-1952—Germany

Spring Rejoice

Spring sun – and nature

bloomed in the morning light,

And evening dew still rested

On the grass, fracturing rays.

Laughing, colourful flowering May

And early summer's resplendence -

Will come yet and not ended,

Not even died away in dreams

There is no time for woefulness,

Nice hours rest like a saved treasure

In deepest bottom of the heart.

Gracious are the memories

- The mouth may not be silent -

Forever young, yes, forever young,

Remaining our own

(English Translation by Gert Knop)

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

Frühlingsfreude

Frühlingssonne – die Natur

erblüht im Morgenlicht.

Und sich der Abendtau

noch auf dem Gras

die Strahlen bricht.

Lachend bunter Blütenmai

und frühen Sommers Prangen -

das kommt erst noch, ist nicht vorbei,

auch nicht im Traum vergangen.

Und auch für Wehmut ist kein Platz;

die schönen Stunden

ruh'n wie ein gesparter Schatz

im tiefen Herzens Grunde,

Freundlich auch die Erinnerung

- Da mag der Mund nicht schweigen -

Ewig jung, ja ewig jung

Bleibt sie unser Eigen

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

Arthur Rehbein, also known under his pseudonym Atz vom Rhyn, was one of Gert Knop’s grandfather's brothers. He was born on October 26, 1867 in Remscheid, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany and died on February 29, 1952 in Berlin, Germany. His son Max H. Rehbei was a journalist, TV-editor and producer for the NDR (North German Radio).

Arthur Rehbein was a journalist and author. He did extensive travels around the world and published many books including three volumes of poetry.

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

(shared and authorized for publication by Gert Knop—a Whispers’ contributor since 2013)

Partners in Poetry--Yancy and Diana Dalton, United States

All is well that ends well

By Yancy and Diana Dalton, United States

No T.V. to break the sound                              

Lost in books we've found

Painting realms in our mind

Reality & magic entwined

Living the tale, we tell

In faith, it will end well

Yet, dragons under our bed

Move inside our head

Our story projects our lives

As our fairytale thrives

Dragons, daemons & heroes

So, a mythical fear arose

Projected on life's screen

Plot appears to be mean

We become so engaged

We are blindly enraged

"Hey! You, way up there

You're supposed to care"

Yelling & screaming, Oh God!

Then things start feeling odd

Gentleness infuses our mind

Warm, enticing & kind

"You can't see the Master's plan

Fear is blindness of man

Script is written, story won

You too are my beloved one

Follow the plan with me

I'll show the way to victory

Endless is my being in you

Express our essence true

Come within for the allowing of

Never ending, peace, joy & love"

Old Soldier--By Ann Christine Tabaka--United States

Old Soldier

A leaf...a soldier

Survived the winter

Tenaciously hanging

Onto bare branches

The heavy snows

And howling winds

Could not budge them;

They remained resilient

Now spring is here

And the old yields

To the green buds

& pushy young men

The soldier and leaf

Both stand with pride

As life cycles continue

They boldly step aside

Ann Christine Tabaka, is better known by her middle name, Chris. She has been writing poems and rhymes since she was fourteen. She was an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer.  She recently had 4 poems accepted into the upcoming Contemporary Group’s anthology Dandelion in a Vase of Roses, and 2 poems accepted by The Society of Classical Poets, and will have poems in the summer 2017 issue of Halcyon Days Magazine.

Biographical--By JD DeHart--United States

Biographical

Small town, of course,

like a Mellencamp song, where

not even a red light hung,

forming away from the herd,

hiking daily, learning about

animals and land, never quite

seeming to fit in a particular

place, though trying, attempting

parlance but sounding somewhat

out of kilter, then a pathway

to education and reading,

subsuming self in books, finally

finding a voice to teach,

some words to script and share,

a path among dense undergrowth

of metaphor and intended meaning.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  He is currently at work on a collection of his best poems from the past five years, which he hopes to make available soon.  DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com. 

“You Can"--By Nell Dalton--(In Memory)--United States

“You Can"

In the depth of my despair I cried

"I can't live without my man"

But I look at his beautiful pine trees

And the branches say, "You Can"

Feeling so sad and lonely, I cried

"I can't make it without my man"

But looked up to our beautiful mountain

And the horsehead said, "You Can"

I prayed to our Heavenly Father

"Can I live without my man?"

Then I looked at our wonderful family
And the Father said, "You Can"!

(Published in the San Juan Record, Aug 29, 2007)

Nell Dalton is the beloved mother of Yancy Dalton.  She wrote poetry from his youth till she died.

Cherita Poems--By Lavana Kray--Romania

migration – 

the scud of birds

before the wind

amid a swirl of leaves

I do my plans to leave home

as I did every year
______________

broken hourglass –

the humming table fan
spreads units of time

and I pretend

I meet you right now

falling in love again

______________

Lavana Kray is from Iasi – Romania. She is passionate about writing and photography. She has won several awards, including WHA Master Haiga Artist 2015. Her work has been published in many print and online journals, including Haiku Canada Review, Haiku Masters, The Mainichi, Ginyu, Frogpond, Acorn, etc. She was chosen for Haiku Euro Top 100, 2016. This is her blog: http://photohaikuforyou.blogspot.ro        

His Image--By Marc Livanos--United States

His Image

Forgive my transgressions,
for my sins are against You.

In realizing my sins,
I sense Your pain.

Teach me kindness
to cleanse my heart.

In learning compassion,
I find inner peace.

Fill me with truth

to become genuine.

In being unpretentious,

I walk with You.

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

From the Archives—Featuring John W. Williams and Eleanor Michael

Dear Whispers’ Readers,

Our poetry community is blend of many voices, sharing the joy of words.  Today, I would like to honor two talented, award winning writers that do not have computers.  It takes a lot of time to prepare manuscripts for postal submission, yet they continue to grace our journal with their poems.  Both John and Eleanor encourage other writers and have been supporting our online journal since 2013.

As we look to the future, it is important that veteran writers share poetry to help others hone their writing.  Both John and Eleanor use a variety of literary elements as well as artistic visual presentations to convey their thoughts. Congratulations my friends!  It is gift to be able to showcase your delightful poems.

Blessings,

Karen O’Leary—Whispers’ Editor

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

Nature’s Reflections

By John W. (Bill) Williams

Simple things are miracles.

I hold them up to a mirror

     in praise;

with each reflection

I see the face of Nature…

simple things created

     by the Master’s hand:

like sunshine at the beginning

     of a new day,

     daffodils in spring,

and rainbows after a sudden rain.

Simple things are easy to find:

I see them in the meadows of wildflowers;

I hear them in melodies of birds…

when I reach out to Nature’s Miracles,

     it matters not the season.

I always find perfect and simple gifts…

silent reflections waiting to be discovered.

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

A Time to Sing

By Eleanor Michael

Too shy to show

     her gift –

her “light,”

     she hid her voice

“under a bushel.”

     She always found

other things

     she needed to do

to help someone.

After a long life

     – too late –

she realized

     her gift was gone.

But she smiled

     when she died.

She heard a voice,

     “Now, you’ll sing

with the angels.”

Tanka--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

viewing wildlife

a pack of red wolves,

a regal elk bugling . . .

the car stalls in a wadi

bison viewing us

_______________

 uncle took us fishing

if we dug the bait . . . 

spading rich black loam

a fistful of earthworms

spills into a tin can

_______________

Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.

He Tried to Reverse His Life--By Gareth Culshaw--Wales

He Tried to Reverse His Life

There was a man who drove

his car in reverse all his life.

He went backwards to work

backwards to town

backwards to everywhere.

The police chased him

his neighbours hated him

roundabouts stopped flowing

red lights were never seen

people ran across the road

until finally he ended up in court.

On sentencing he was asked

‘Why drive backwards?’

He replied

‘To turn back time until my

wife was alive’

Gareth Culshaw lives in Wales, he loves the outdoors and uses it to help him write. He has been published in various places in the UK and USA.

In Due Time--By Douglas S. Malan--United States

In Due Time 

As a child, I prayed
for difficulties to test me,
guilt-ridden by small-town comfort.
Trees spoke, the wind sang
till I tempted and shunned them,
grew toward voracious avarice,
then prayed for relief from
pain I created.

Douglas S. Malan is a blessed family man, writer, and artist living in New England.

Another Cup...--By Stela Xega--Albania

 Another Cup...

These days I think 

I only drink so much coffee
because my body desperately
wants to recreate the feeling
of warmth that I once 

got from love,
something to hold in my hand
that might even slightly
resemble your touch.

some days I think
I’m kidding myself
trying to exist without
a love that burns me.

because somehow,
I will always require 

a love that...

feels like fire.

Stela Xega is a poet from Albania, a freelancer full of passions. She studies finance, has taken some art courses and has worked in many theatres. Stela translates poetry in the following languages Albanian, English, Italian and French. She has a passion for art and organizes poem nights to discuss writing. Stela sings and plays drums and guitar. Her interest in art started when she was little and now has her own expo of paintings in several art galleries in Albania.

Through the Lens of the Spitzer Space Telescope--By Valerie Macon--United States

Through the Lens of the Spitzer Space Telescope

we visit the outer court of God’s dwelling place,
a star-studded palate painted with His wide brush,
splashed with milky ways, sprinkled with galaxies,
spinning with planets, meteors and moons.
This is the corridor of angels who
go in and out from the presence of God,
the way of Elijah’s fiery chariot,
battleground of principalities and powers,
the place where angels hold back winds
for the day of destruction.
Could man, a molecule in cosmos,
change climate breathed by its Creator,
or poke a hole in ozone wrapped by God?
From His throne, eons above September-
blue sky and Spitzer’s field of vision,
He holds together the pinhead center
of a black hole and the quasar in a distant galaxy.
And He is able to fix the broken.

Valerie Macon lives in North Carolina, USA.  She enjoys growing food to feed the homeless and hungry, and started a garden for this purpose.  She shares her poetry in numerous venues. She has published three books of poetry, and donates profits from her book on homelessness,  sleeping Rough to the garden where all food is given away to the hungry. valeriemaconpoetry.com

Hoe-down Days--By Ralph Stott--England

Hoe-down Days

In

the

garden,

the apples,

(fermenting on the

grass) gave rise to the midges’ dance!

Ralph Stott was born in Kent, England in 1957. He is married and has two daughters.  He studied design at the Medway College of Design in the mid-70's. Expressing ideas through the written/visual media, has always interested him. Ralph began to dedicate more time to poetry with The Writers and Poetry Alliance, in particular the 'Stylists' forum, over the last 3 years. He has self published one book called Legends For Lunchtime; a collection of short stories and has a second book pending called The Sounding.

The Human Curse--By Richard Sponaugle--United States

The Human Curse

We alone among creature

show eternal loyalty

to our lotto birth place.

Long forgotten migrants,

footprints flooded away

by decades of rain and tears,

yet our souls stay chained to home towns,

three time zones away.

Peace of mind hangs on

the bounce of a football,

though ‘our’ players don’t share wealth,

or occasional banned substances.

Halycon Summers of kicking beer cans

down dead end streets are romanticized:

The reality of too much crime

and too few jobs, is repressed –

though that’s why we left

all those distant sunsets ago.

Richard Sponaugle was born 4-20-60 in Maryland and raised in Northern Virginia.  He received a BA from George Mason University. A prolific poet and songwriter, he has been published in many venues.  

An-Nur Al-Ain: frail light--By Sheikha A.--Pakistan and U.A.E.

An-Nur Al-Ain: frail light 

             after An-Nur by Laura M. Kaminski (Halima Ayuba)

Night is a lull whisper growing ferns

in its lungs. The eyes of your father

have left faith at the doors of dimming

brows, mother’s face hasn’t given away

its mysteries. Above the boundaries of

dreams where jewels contour the silver

of your ring, there sits a stone intensified

from salt. Glimpse your reflection 

in the sheerness of a ray, and watch

your father’s eyes cry a new birth’s 

perspective of fear. You will find the sky

part for the briefest of moments, in which

all of the purpose of life will be shown

immaculately. Look wisely into the stone,

smile back at the light welcoming you – 

to certainty.

(Note: An-Nur means ‘the light’, and Al-Ain has two meanings: one being ‘the eye’ and the other ‘a spring’.)

Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and U.A.E. and often finds herself in a world of oscillation that most of the times motivates her writing too. She maintains a (or tries to) blog on sheikha82.wordpress.com. 

Ode to a Willow Tree--By David Fox

Ode to a Willow Tree

Why do you weep O willow tree?

Is it because you cannot sleep?

I see your waves sway in the wind

As I watch in awe.

I would love to swing on your branches

But I am afraid you could not sustain me.

You bear no fruit

But you are aesthetically pleasing,

And that is enough for me.

David Fox has been published in over 100 places, including journals, websites, newsletters, blogs, and posting boards.  He has been published in the U.S., U.K., Canada, India, Finland, and the U.A.E. but is also interested in learning about websites or journals that take e-mail submissions from other countries.  He edits the magazine, "The Poet's Art" (see the ad in the Whispers’ column).

Which Way--By Lynn White--Wales

Which Way

I’m on the edge of the horizon
looking back.
There’s no looking forwards.
Looking up
I can see the sky,
blue or grey like the sea.
Reflected sunlight,
clouds rippling like waves
making shapes in the sand.
Wave shapes on the land.
Sometimes it’s so bright
I can’t tell the blue from the grey,
the cloud from the clear,
the sky from the sea.
The light blinds me.
It’s too bright for my eyes
and leaves me confused
on the edge of the horizon,
on a thin line
with only one way to go.

(First published in Calliope, October 2015)

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem 'A Rose For Gaza' was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published online and in print. Find her at lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com   

Spring Hop--By Michael Escoubas and Karen O’Leary, United States

Spring Hop

By Michael Escoubas and Karen O’Leary, United States

be bop

do op

he dips

she slips

rock's beat

moves feet

hips sway

all day

slow dance

romance

Horse Sense--By Richard Carl Subber--United States

Horse Sense

Nothing was changed, really.

The long placid pasture sprawled in the sun.

Horses studded the far slope,

heads down, cropping the wasted offering of autumn time,

all still in the moments of my passing.

A tableau in the periphery on all those other days,

but yesterday I turned and looked far, saw more.

Yesterday I came to my senses.

In those long moments,

I was a lover of horses.

Richard Carl Subber is a freelance editor, a writing coach, and a historian. His first book, Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 new poems, is for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or free in Kindle Unlimited. Rick’s poetry also has been accepted for publication in The Aurorean, The Australia Times Poetry, miller’s pond, The RavensPerch, Northern Stars, Creative Inspirations, and elsewhere. His website is: http://richardsubber.com/    

Sometimes…--By Keith Dodrill--United Kingdom

Sometimes…

With your heart, you can touch the sky

You can see another's love for you
Perceive the imperceptible
Be aware of the non-physical
                  The dimension that exists beyond

With your heart, you can touch the untouchable
Feel passion and desire and yearning
Know emotions inside-out
And conquer your deepest fears
                    Those that dwell in the darkest depths

With your heart, you can promise forever
And mean it with all your sincerity
Because the heart knows not how to lie
To those it chooses as its truly beloved
                     The special ones that only it can know

With your heart, you can know when someone truly cares
And when care does not exist
                                                                              
With your heart, you can keep those gone with you always
And have comfort in them being there

With your heart, the impossible is possible    sometimes.........

Keith Dodrill is a retired gentleman from the United Kingdom.  He was born in 1956 in London and has lived there all his life. His work can be seen on Google + ( main page ) where he first started sharing his poetry.  Keith writes on a variety of subjects, sometimes challenging his readers.  He embraces all cultures which allows him to write from different perspectives.

Partners in Poetry--By Sara Kendrick, United States and Jack Horne, England

A Winter Landscape

By Sara Kendrick, United States and Jack Horne, England

a southern winter

landscape framed by dark gray clouds
pines sigh mellow tunes
a small boy laughs as he runs
splashing in muddy puddles

white ice spews from ground
as temperature plummets
peach blossoms turn brown
a gray haired man shakes his head
and buys tulips for his wife

a spring bouquet sits
in a lovely vase gone dry
tulip petals fall
a kitten smashes the vase
and leaps from the windowsill

grandmother awakes
a small boy and his kitten
run outside to play
donning a yellow rain coat
against the winter landscape

celebration anxiety--By Lois Greene Stone--United States

celebration anxiety 

I don't want to be

younger again, yet

I don't want to be

older.  I've skills

and knowledge that

took decades to

develop, but birthdays

remind me that time

to use them has less

ahead than what has

already been.

Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.

Tanka--By Archana Kapoor Nagpal--India

on both

the sides of the fence

these marigold flowers …

the only colour I see

from hospital window

____________

painting

a city skyline

on my canvas …

i find different shapes

in the clouds

____________

before

we exchange

wedding rings …

I close my eyes

to rethink

____________

Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of 6 books so far, and her winning stories are now part of international anthologies. She writes inspirational content for corporate newsletters, websites, blogs and print publications. Her inspirational poems touch every area of a person's life. She enjoys writing Haiku and Tanka as well. Visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her.

Life is for the Living--By Daniel Turner--United States

Life is for the Living

Today another angel got her wings

Promoted for a job well done on earth

Rejoice! In heaven, all the angels sing

His grace has filled her with angelic mirth

Though quickly earth reclaims the pyre's ash

How swift the ceaseless seasons of the sun

Grief fades and loneliness becomes the lash

A harsh reminder of that special one

But in our times of sad and dark despair

Our angel fans the dying flame of love

No longer suffering, her joy she shares

Reminding us she's waiting up above

This life is for the living, not the dead

Our day will come, when no more tears are shed

Daniel Turner is 60 years old and lives in Arkansas. He has been writing poetry for approximately 40 years. He loves animals and all things having to do with nature. Now retired, he has traveled over 3 million miles as a long-haul truck driver, worked in the oil fields of Texas and on the Mississippi River on a tow boat. He loves to read and watch old black and white movies.

Island of Songs--By Neil Creighton--Australia

Island of Songs

Fraser Island sweetly sings

from serpentine streams so clear,

so unclouded and untouched

they could be water or air.

Music murmurs in mangroves,

cobalt blue of upland lake,

banksia grove, pandanas palm

and forests of coastal she-oak.

It's in the eastern wave who sings

as she washes from her sand

the tracks of 4 wheel drives

that deeply scour the land.

Even though tomorrow

the traffic will resume,

following the tide always sings

her lyrical, cleansing tune.

Yes, all day long strange music

ripples or crashes in the sea,

and high in towering treetops

come songs of exquisite beauty. 

Fraser Island is in sub-tropical Queensland, Australia. It is the largest sand island in the world and stunningly beautiful. Its eastern beach, facing the Pacific, is also its road. I try to capture its beauty using the symbol of music.

Neil Creighton is an Australian poet with a passion for social justice, a love of people and the natural world. His work as a teacher of Drama and English made him intensely aware of how opportunity is so unequally proportioned. His recent publications include Prosopisia, Poetry Quarterly, Praxis Online Mag, Silver Birch Press, Social Justice Poetry, Whispers  and "Verse-Virtual, where he is a contributing editor. He blogs at windofflowers.blogspot.com.au   

The ballad...By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

The ballad of our hearts

endowing and inhabiting

touching and melting

two who have met

taking the world in hand

forgetting nothing

forgiving everything

embellishing salt-sweetness

while turning love into ink.

—— 

The cauldron of sunset

Slight rain across the forest

A tree’s calm presence, its roots

deep under the surface of things,

hidden within earthen mold

and a mightier silence

A tree’s calm presence, 

a tree’s calm presence

A mightier silence of earth. 

——

ayaz daryl nielsen, veteran, former hospice nurse, ex-roughneck (as on oil rigs) lives in Longmont, Colorado. Editor of bear creek haiku (26+ years/135+ issues) with poetry published worldwide, he also is online at:  bear creek haiku poetry, poems and info