Erinnerungen/Memories--Bilingual Poem--By Gert W. Knop--Germany

Erinnerungen (German)

Die Lichter längst gelöscht

in träumenreicher Nacht.

Jetzt am späten Nachmittag

flutet Licht von draußen den Raum

mit länger nicht gehörten Melodien,

jedoch oft geträumt.

Erinnerungen bleiben,

unvergessen.

Die Zukunft lebt von Erinnerungen,

eine Zukunft ohne Erinnerungen

ist wie ein blind gewordener Spiegel.

Aber die Hoffnung bleibt,

lässt alte Bilder langsam verblassen

in neuen Träumen

Memories (English)

The lights have long been cleared

in dreamy night.

Now in the late afternoon

light from outside floods the room

with longer not heard melodies,

but often dreamed.

Memories stay,

unforgotten.

The future lives on memories,

a future without memories

is like a mirror that has become blind.

But the hope remains,

makes old pictures to fade slowly

in new dreams

Gert W. Knop was born in 1943, studied arts and tropical agriculture and is now living in Zittau, Germany. He writes poetry and short stories in German, English and Spanish.

How?--By Yancy Dalton--United States

How? (sonnet)

Embryo creators wish on a star

Dilemma of amnesia from afar

Children of God, human mortals they are

Adopt filth of man's scientific jar 10

Former existence hidden from their view

In a human body which is brand new 

Now able to enjoy, the taste of stew

Plus everything else the top creators do

This is all a part of mankind's progress 

So he advances into being his best

God's setup for individual zest

Those who are humble, can & will be blest

Some kneel, pray in faith to our God above

To gain ways of being his kind of love

Yancy Dalton grew up on a cattle ranch riding, roping, and branding calves. He started writing poetry after college, church mission, and marriage.  When he first started writing online, the name "Yancy" was often taken for a girl's name. So, he made up a pen name to progress as a poet called "Knight Writer."

Dear Friends...In Gratitude

Dear Writing Friends,

Our editor team is facing challenges--in the light of that--we are closing Whispers for submissions on June 25.  We will publish writing until June 31.  It is been a pleasure sharing this time with you.  Please send all poems to Karen until closing date to karenoleary1956@gmail.com 

Please respect the privacy of each of us as we as we go forward.  Thank you for all you are and for all that you do to encourage writers of all levels.  It is with peace we bid you adieu.  May the light of God travel with you.

Blessings,

Karen O'Leary

Inge Wesdijk

Jack Horne

my shadow…By Karen O'Leary--United States

my shadow…    (cinquain)

softly

moves at my side,

yearning to be released…

my soul soars leaving my shadow

behind

Karen O'Leary, United States

(Thank you, Inge, for accepting this poem for publication.  I appreciate all the support and encouragement you and Jack give me.  Blessings always!)

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND.  She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, bear creek haiku, Shemom, Creative Inspirations and NeverEnding Story.  She feels blessed to be your editor. 

A Disarming Innocence--By Ndaba Sibanda--Saudi Arabia

A Disarming Innocence

today I saw with my naked eyes

the beauty of young life and innocence

as kids sang their songs with verve and free will   

my eyes fell on the humaneness of their hearts—

a humaneness whose tributaries radiated

a blind love across their contrasts and matches  

today I heard with my thrilled ears

the spills and thrills that the young ones

unleash when they are together celebrating life

I prayed that someone would not be flooding them

with trauma, or turn a blind eye to a swarm of pedophiles

because the kids’ innocence should be an adult’s diligence

Ndaba Sibanda is a Zimbabwean-born writer. His poems, essays and short stories have been published in Africa and the USA. Ndaba currently lives and teaches in Saudi Arabia. Of his career, he says, "writing is my life, and my second wife.”

Special Feature Ancestor Poem--By Lucy Wight Farmer (In Memory 1894-1988)—United States

Little Curly Head

(For her daughter, Lora May Wight)

They call me little curly head
But my name is Lora Mae
The reason why I talk so much
I have so much to say
With Roses on my shoulders
And slippers on my feet
I'm mama’s little darling
Don't you think I'm sweet?
Oh I can wash the dishes
And I can sweep the floor
And I can kiss my fellar
Behind the kitchen door!

_________________

Yancy Dalton’s grandmother, Lucy Wight Farmer, was a song lyric writer and poet. Lucy was born on January 4, 1894 in Main Wright County, MO, and died in 1988.  Lora May Wight was her first-born child.  

discarded crowns--By Peggy Dugan French--United States

discarded crowns

for you the days of gold lame and lace

are over

yet for me

each crown and flowing gown

is a special reminder

of days when we would walk

side by side together

you decked out in your finery

creating stares

me in my jeans

soaking up your spirit

lost in the special moment.

today you are still elegant

and original

but sometimes I miss

the glorious days of

gold lame and lace

and regal toddler beauty.

Peggy Dugan French is a California girl with Minnesota roots. She has been the editor of Shemom since 1997. She welcomes this opportunity to share her work with the Whispers readers and thanks Karen for starting such a wonderful shared space.

Undaunted--By Jack Waller--United States

Undaunted

Challenged by the unknown,

Unsure of the next step,

I release myself,

Knowing I am not alone,

As there are those who stand with me.

I stand undaunted.

Jack Waller is a 79 years old resident of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. He has a Diploma in Theology from The Atlantic School of Theology. Jack has a deep faith and spirituality.

Harvest Time--By deb y felio--United States

Harvest Time

Seeds of kindness scattered -

some in good dirt -

some stepped on / housed in boot trek

carried until dislodged -

swallowed by a bird,

later dropping

it on a windshield whose wiper

flung it to a sidewalk crack

where it huddled

rooted and pushed

through the concrete

to bloom singly -

picked by a child who noticed

and offered it

to the lady and her cup

on the corner -

a smile offered in return.

Another seed of kindness

scattered.

deb y felio is a witness poet and essayist living in Boulder CO, USA.  She recently retired as a child and family therapist. After years of helping others find their voices and tell their stories for healing, she is now finding hers and using it to create commentary on historic and current events. Her work can be found in many online literary journals.

Just Have Faith In Jesus--By Allan Ball--England

Just Have Faith In Jesus  (Acrostic)

Justifying why we all are here

Understanding what life's all about

Sometimes these are questions

That we just can't figure out

Having hope can help us

Answers may begin to appear

Voicing our apprehension by

Eliminating fear

Faith in Our Creator

Ask and you shall receive

Instead of doubt and insecurity

Try trusting, learn how to believe

He is there to offer assistance

In those who are fair and just

Now is the time to listen to his

Judgement, we all can trust

Everyone of us will benefit

So much does he do to please us

Understand his truth and wisdom

Son of God, Our Saviour Jesus

Allan Ball has retired from a career in the banking and financial sector. Writing is both peaceful and rewarding, the written word allows our hearts to speak. His poems have been published in anthologies.   

My Father’s Late-Night Suppers--By Joan Leotta--United States

My Father’s Late-Night Suppers

My father often worked late,

arriving home near midnight

to a late supper of poached eggs

in tomato sauce,

or fried eggs and peppers.

I sat by him at the yellow

Formica slice

that was our kitchen table

to spill out my day to him

while he ate. I sampled his

supper—liking it because he liked it.

On warm summer

nights, after his late supper,

he scooped small bowls of ice cream

for himself, my mom and me and

out on the back porch

we ate and talked while watching stars.

Joan Leotta is a writer and story performer. She writes and tells to show the beauty and importance of ordinary moments, ordinary people –living in ordinary and extraordinary times. 

A Cherita (untitled)--By Mary Gunn--Ireland

A Cherita (untitled)

Father's Day

spotting a horse's head

in a naked tree

he sawed and carved

to release the horse

my first wooden toy

(published telling a story (the cherita), 2017, 1-2-3 press)

Mary Gunn writes haiku, tanka, cherita and other forms of poetry. She draws inspiration from the natural world around her. She also writes short stories. Her writing has appeared in a variety of publications including NeverEnding Story, Dual Coast Magazine, Atlas Poetica, Blithe Spirit, Presence, Moonbathing, cattails, Chrysanthemum and Eucalypt. 

I will overcome--By Inge Wesdijk--The Netherlands

I will overcome

Sometimes ...

I only want to lay down,

close my eyes, and sleep.

Turn reality into oblivion.

A fading spirit,

my inner strength falters.

Please, let me linger

in pleasant dreams,

and never return.

Your hand in mine, our tears

mingle in an unvoiced understanding.

The pain in your eyes

reflects your silent suffering.
For you, I will fight until

I raze all barriers.

With you, I will overcome.

Inge Wesdijk is a Dutch writer, poetess, and photographic artist who works under the pseudonym Daginne Aignend. She likes hard rock music and fantasy books. She is a vegetarian and spends a lot of time with her animals.

Ode to Shut-Ins--By David Fox--United States

Ode to Shut-Ins

Some shut-ins live at home

Others are behind bars

Others in nursing home beds

Trying to look at the stars

Most shut-ins hearts are broken

While others just need to mend

To all shut-ins that I know

I consider you my friend.

(From David: I volunteer at a nursing home and have had other shut-ins, whether they are home-bound or in another nursing home submit to my magazine.)

David Fox edits the magazine, The Poet's Art. For info about submitting and submissions fee, contact David by postal mail: 171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia NY, 11749, United States.

Can You Go Home Again?--By Caryl Calsyn--United States

Can You Go Home Again?

The author, Thomas Wolfe
wrote that you cannot.

I wanted to argue that I have
done so, in visits, countless times,

but I have to concede, he is right,
as I stand in a house no longer home.

We were a family of five the last time
I was here. I’d been sure we’d always be.

My husband and son had left, too soon,
and now reside in their heavenly home.

Memories, reality and tears overflowed
as I stood in a house no longer home.

Caryl Calsyn is a retired interior designer.  She has always been a writer, but poetry became the mode preferred a few years ago and eventually she became a published author.  She is a past president of a writer’s club, past chairman of the county historical commission and a museum board member.  She leads a faith group and sings in a chorale and the church choir.

Und schau' ich...--By Arthur Rehbein--Translated By--Gert Knop--Germany

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

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

German--By Arthur Rehbein

Und schau' ich hinab in das liebliche Thal,

Dann werden die Märchen der Jugend wach.

Grüß Gott, Grüß Gott dich viel tausendmal,

Mein sagenumwobenes Eisenach

English Translation--By Gert Knop

And when I look down to the lovely valley,

Then the fairy tales of youth come to life.

I greet you God,

God bless you more than a thousand times.

My legendary Eisenach

Note from Gert Knop: My granduncle Arthur Rehbein was a journalist from 1893 till 1899 for a newspaper in Arnstadt, Thuringia. He loved Eisenach which was the hiding place of reformer Martin Luther in 1521/22, where he translated the New Testament of the Bible into German in only eleven days.  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe visited the Wartburg several times in 1777. The Wartburg near Eisenach (Thuringia) is a UNESCO – World Heritage Site since 1999.

Haiku-Senryu--By Kelly Sauvage Angel--United States

Haiku-Senryu

making peace

with an untenable past

full moon’s halo

---

the whisper

of a secret prayer

wild violet

--- 

home at last

each mismatched dish

washed by hand

---

morning embrace

the light not yet peeking

over your shoulder

---

Kelly Sauvage Angel is the author of Om Namah… (published under Kalyanii) and the long out-of-print poetry collection Scarlet Apples & Cream. She most enjoys wiling away her free time in the art studio and amid the magnificence of the natural world.

My Inner Voice--By Emile Pinet--Canada

My Inner Voice (a sonnet)

I leave the daily hustle and bustle
of a city's cacophony of sound.
And go to where the leaves softly rustle
in the breeze... and no one else is around.

When I'm alone, I find an inner peace
that raises my soul to a higher plane.
And anxiety's attacks slowly cease
free from critical critiques and disdain.

Seclusion fuels imagination
shaping reality within my mind.
And it's a feeling of liberation,
unrestricted by rules of any kind.

Whenever I seek solitude by choice
I hush the whispers of my inner voice.

Emile Pinet was born in Bathurst, New Brunswick, Canada. Many of his poems reflect the uniqueness of nature, which he loves, and his poetic observations of life in general. Emile has been writing poems since he was about 35 years old (now 67). He decided to write down his ideas and express himself through his poetry.

The Storefront Display--By Colan L. Hiatt--United States

The Storefront Display            

In a remote and quaint little country town

Shops dominated the one-way street

Merchants sought to promote their wares

With other vendors, they must compete

Clothing, food and antique shops

Novelties for tourist were galore

Often live music could be heard

In a section of the music store

As occasions and seasons did arise

The display, they would rotate

Reflecting changes and the latest fad

Enticing shoppers, to investigate

The question in life might arise

Does our "storefront" promote the inside

Of events of our daily life

Or are there areas, we wish to hide

Are we as a candle in the night  *

Dispelling gloom and dismay

On the street, what do "shoppers" see

When viewing our, "storefront display"

(* Matthew 5:15-16)

Colan L. Hiatt’s ultimate prayer and desire is that any and all poetic writings that he endeavors to present, would depict Christ as "the answer" to life's problems. May they offer hope and encouragement to pilgrims along the road of life.

River--By Paul Callus--Malta

River

Heart throbbing, euphoric,

like a giant slalom skier

the river gushes down

winding its reckless way

round obstacles and blind corners

unawed by imposing mountains

till it finally comes to the end

of its dizzy, breathless run

where the shimmering ocean waits

with eager yet patient anticipation.

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.

Haiku-By Elizabeth Howard--United States

a soaking rain

wild plums

wild and shiny

____________ 

dim light

a hazy tangle

poodle and serpent 

____________ 

hospice care—

her bones curve

into his caress

____________ 

Elizabeth Howard lives in Arlington, Tennessee. Her work has appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Green Hills Literary Lantern, and many other journals.

Prawdziwe fantazje--By Eliza Segiet--Poland (Translation By Artur Komoter--United Kingdom)

Prawdziwe fantazje--Polish
(To Professor Bogumila Rouba)

By Eliza Segiet

Jakże łatwo odpocząć

w samotności rozmytych myśli.

Zostawić plany,

być tam -

daleko,

poza realnym czasem.

Tylko ja

i moje prawdziwe fantazje.

Być wolną,

a jednak

uwięzioną w ustach pulsującej natury.

Tylko odpływ

odkrywający nagość plaży

przypomina, że

czas płynie.

Eliza Segiet, Poland

____________________

True Fantasie

(To Professor Bogumila Rouba)

Translation by Artur Komoter--United Kingdom

How easy it is to rest

in loneliness of fuzzy thoughts.

To leave plans behind,

to be there -

far,

beyond real time.

Just me

and my true fantasies.

To be free,

yet

trapped in the mouth of pulsating nature.

Only the low tide

revealing the nudity of the beach

reminds that

time flows.

____________________

Eliza Segiet graduated with a Master's Degree in Philosophy, completed postgraduate studies in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Arts and Literature at Jagiellonian University, as well as Film and Television Production in Lodz. Author's works can be found in anthologies and literary magazines worldwide

(From Inge Wesdijk--Whispers' Poetry Editor--Eliza is published in English though she writes her poetry in Polish; Artur Komoter is her translator.)

Calico Sentinel--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Calico Sentinel

the seedless dandelion tuft

arrives on nonexistent breeze

settling softly upon fluffy feline tail

observed by the one male kitten

in the family of four

who quickly pounces upon his prey

immediately swatted sideways

he dives for obscure safety

among his litter sisters

stares out menacingly

at the unruffled tuft

still smugly riding mother’s tail

weighing the consequence

of another of her slaps

for his certain repeat attack

  

Carl "Papa" Palmer of University Place, WA is retired military, retired FAA, now just plain retired without wristwatch, cell phone, alarm clock or Facebook friend. Carl is a Hospice volunteer and president of The Tacoma Writers Club.

MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever

When I Stare into Her Eyes--By Partha Chatterjee--India

When I Stare into Her Eyes

Her eyes
Full to the brim
Flow murmuring
as a stream.

I stealthily
set adrift
a boat there.

Convulsed
with shyness
She
Lowers the water level
And flows knee-deep.

Leaving the boat glued
In the mud.

I, hopelessly hopeful,
Wait for the next tide. 

Partha Chatterjee lives in India with his family. Born in 1986, he graduated from Burdwan University. He loves music and poetry.

tanka/senryu--By Fatma Gultepe--Turkey

Dreaming

the summer stars

mom and dad smile

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

Empty woodshed

student lights the stove

with corncobs

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

four seasons

my endless reverie

of Mount Fuji

First published Failed Haiku, a Journal of English Senryu

-----

White Olympic mountain

my childhood dream

green valley and blue sea

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

After the quiz

I draw an April fish

on the board

First published The Herald Tribune, Asahi Shimbun,The Asahi Haikuist Network Column

-----

Fatma Gultepe born in Bursa, Turkey in 1947. She is a retired English teacher. From time to time she writes poetry, especially haiku. She is a mezzo soprano and singing classical choral music.

Rondel for a Faithless Lover--By Nick Spargo--United Kingdom

Rondel for a Faithless Lover

I touched her cheek and left her standing there;

No words to say, no more tears to cry,

No answer to that simple question “Why?”

Whatever made me think that life was fair?

People always said we made the perfect pair,

Until I caught her out in yet another lie,

I touched her cheek and left her standing there;

No words to say, no more tears to cry.

I wander wind-swept streets all too aware

My heart is frozen, though my eyes are dry,

Move on; forget her, can I even try?

One thought still plagues me, “Did she ever care?”

I touched her cheek and left her standing there.

Nick Spargo writes poetry, short stories and monologues. He has been published extensively and has won a number of prizes with his work. He lives in the South-West of England.

The Ballad of Our Hearts--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

pouring love into poems

---

couldn’t settle down

always on the move

multi-lingual  

in the language

of loneliness

---

sky being so blue

deep green of the meadow grass

words begin to shine

word-stained garments of poets

as we walk upon this earth

ayaz daryl nielsen, veteran, hospice nurse, ex-roughneck (as on oil rigs) lives 

in Longmont, Colorado, USA.  Editor of bear creek haiku (30+ years/140+ issues) 

with poetry published worldwide (and deeply appreciated), he also is online at:  https://bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com 

The Painted Lady--By Anne Curran--New Zealand

The Painted Lady (a children's poem)

My delicate china lady

dressed in white

a flouncy dress

and decorative hat

stands with poise

at the foot of my bed

you guard my repose

you light up the passage

The hall doorway closed

to idle grown-up play

so I do not feel scared when

stairs creak

with small footsteps

apples drop onto stones

skeletons spiral from my closet

I do not feel scared

but watch for the cheerful wink

of your unblinking lamp

Anne Curran writes in Hamilton New Zealand where she resides with her pet car Misty and extended family of parents, brothers and sisters. She loves art, going to see films, and walks. 

Spring into Summer--By Sara Kendrick--United States

Spring into Summer

The Calla lily beside the gate

Welcomes visitors here

Once their ivory blossoms open

Summer's arrived without a care

The peonies' blossoms faded

Gladiolus now in bloom

Lively bees will be humming 

Early morn's Rhapsody tune

Summer thunderstorms will rumble

In hot humid afternoons

Humans and nature will seek shelter

Some will even spoon

Relish the coolness of morn now

Heat of summer soon to stay

Out on the porch such a pleasure

At the break of spring's day

Sara Kendrick is a wife, mother, grandmother who enjoys writing about nature, daily happenings, and life in general.

Immortality--By Vincent Van Ross--India

Immortality

Who can

Stake claim

To immortality

On earth?

The moments

I have stolen

From

The angel of death

Make up

The precious span

Of my entire life

On earth!

Vincent Van Ross is a journalist and an editor based in New Delhi in India. He writes on national and international politics, defense, environment, travel, spirituality and scores of other topics. Apart from this, he dabbles in a little bit of poetry, fiction, non-fiction and humorous writings. He is also a renowned photographer and art critic. His poems are littered in anthologies and journals across the world.