Quilted Memories
The pattern built from tortured strands of thread
has burrowed in the warm material;
It stretched its lengthy folds across the bed,
A haven from the bitterness and cold;
Its thick and ruddy contours rise and fall
To comfort each and every breath I take;
The earthy tones resound its friendly call,
The hue of which I never will forsake;
Its fraying edge is not from weakened seam;
Its age has brought more beauty to behold;
I draw it near to me, and, as I dream,
I feel its soft caresses on my soul.
My mother sewed each stitch with loving care:
I know she did; I always feel it there.
Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. His novel The Snodgrass Incident (excerpts of which have appeared in The Fifth Dimension and The Martian Wave), along with collections of his poetry and stories, is currently available on Kindle at amazon.com/author/rphansen.
Painting pictures with words. Opening a part of the soul. Emotion flowing with the lines. Tapestry skillfully woven. Reflecting thoughts artfully. Yearning to make a difference. --Karen O'Leary--Whispers' Editor
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Tanka--By Asni Amin--Singapore
birdsong
for a moment
I forget …
drifting downstream
songs I'll never sing again
(LYNX XXVIII)
autumn twilight
the choices I didn't make
the path I have taken ...
is it too late
to dream another dream?
(NeverEnding Story, Feb 18, 2013)
things you said
wish I could string them together
like a string of pearls …
till then dance me
to the edge of twilight
(LYNX XXVIII)
Asni Amin is from sunny Singapore. She works as a librarian full time and writes haiku for the love of it, after getting hooked on it in early 2012. Some of her haiku/tanka/haiga have been published in Simply Haiku, Under the Basho, Daily Haiga, Lynx, Moonbathing Journal, Manichi Japan, etc. Asni won first place in the Second Edition Haiku Contest organised by the Romanian Kukai Group, Sharpening The Green Pencil in April 2013. She has a haiku blog, A Walk In Haiku, http://awalkinhaiku.wordpress.com
for a moment
I forget …
drifting downstream
songs I'll never sing again
(LYNX XXVIII)
autumn twilight
the choices I didn't make
the path I have taken ...
is it too late
to dream another dream?
(NeverEnding Story, Feb 18, 2013)
things you said
wish I could string them together
like a string of pearls …
till then dance me
to the edge of twilight
(LYNX XXVIII)
Asni Amin is from sunny Singapore. She works as a librarian full time and writes haiku for the love of it, after getting hooked on it in early 2012. Some of her haiku/tanka/haiga have been published in Simply Haiku, Under the Basho, Daily Haiga, Lynx, Moonbathing Journal, Manichi Japan, etc. Asni won first place in the Second Edition Haiku Contest organised by the Romanian Kukai Group, Sharpening The Green Pencil in April 2013. She has a haiku blog, A Walk In Haiku, http://awalkinhaiku.wordpress.com
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Winging (Duo-rhyme)--By Connie Marcum Wong--United States
Winging (Duo-rhyme)
I feel so blessed to view the sky,
To watch God’s majestic birds fly;
To hear them wake, begin to sing,
Then leave their tree limbs on the wing.
As winter season turns to spring
Mating birds hunt for twigs and string
To build a nest for mothering.
Soon what joy little eggs will bring
When these new fledglings learn to fly
And leave their wing prints in the sky.
*Dedicated to the late Mary L. Ports who created this lovely form.
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 feel so blessed to view the sky,
To watch God’s majestic birds fly;
To hear them wake, begin to sing,
Then leave their tree limbs on the wing.
As winter season turns to spring
Mating birds hunt for twigs and string
To build a nest for mothering.
Soon what joy little eggs will bring
When these new fledglings learn to fly
And leave their wing prints in the sky.
*Dedicated to the late Mary L. Ports who created this lovely form.
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.
The Easter Story--By Joyce Johnson--United States
The Easter Story
This Easter season let me stay
With my Lord, as He wends His way
To turn away would be high treason.
Let me stay this Easter season.
Let me be she who lifts the cross,
Who comforts Mary in her loss.
Right by his side I long to be.
Who lifts the cross let me be she.
I want to be of lonely few
Who are still there in morning dew.
First the rolled away stone to see.
Of lonely few I want to be.
Let me go forth to spread the news
Our dear Lord chose His life to lose.
He died for me of little worth.
To spread the news, let me go forth.
The Easters story often told
Is fresh as in the days of old.
Let me tell of its pure glory.
Often told, the Easter Story.
Joyce Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce will celebrate her 95th birthday in July of 2013.
This Easter season let me stay
With my Lord, as He wends His way
To turn away would be high treason.
Let me stay this Easter season.
Let me be she who lifts the cross,
Who comforts Mary in her loss.
Right by his side I long to be.
Who lifts the cross let me be she.
I want to be of lonely few
Who are still there in morning dew.
First the rolled away stone to see.
Of lonely few I want to be.
Let me go forth to spread the news
Our dear Lord chose His life to lose.
He died for me of little worth.
To spread the news, let me go forth.
The Easters story often told
Is fresh as in the days of old.
Let me tell of its pure glory.
Often told, the Easter Story.
Joyce Johnson lives in the beautiful Skagit Valley of Washington State. She owns a small farm and rents her land to a bulb grower. She is surrounded by beauty in the spring from the tulips and daffodils that inspire much of her poetry. Joyce will celebrate her 95th birthday in July of 2013.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Haiku/Senryu--By Shloka Shankar--India
still pond...
the growing ripples
within
_______________
night-long rain...
sinking into the beanbag
I read Neruda
_______________
summer blues...
the familiar scent of
dog-eared pages
_______________
spring dusk –
I peel away layers
of darkness
_______________
russet skies…
palm trees reach out for
the fading moon
_______________
Shloka Shankar resides in Bangalore, India. She is notable for her work in anthologies of repute including Traversal of Lines, The Dance of the Peacock, The Unsettled Winter and Family Matters. Shloka has also seen her poems published in numerous other literary journals including Urban Confustions, RaedLeaf Poetry India, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Wordweavers India Asahi Haikuist Network and Creatrix.
the growing ripples
within
_______________
night-long rain...
sinking into the beanbag
I read Neruda
_______________
summer blues...
the familiar scent of
dog-eared pages
_______________
spring dusk –
I peel away layers
of darkness
_______________
russet skies…
palm trees reach out for
the fading moon
_______________
Shloka Shankar resides in Bangalore, India. She is notable for her work in anthologies of repute including Traversal of Lines, The Dance of the Peacock, The Unsettled Winter and Family Matters. Shloka has also seen her poems published in numerous other literary journals including Urban Confustions, RaedLeaf Poetry India, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Wordweavers India Asahi Haikuist Network and Creatrix.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
Safe Harbor
By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.
Your arms enfold me tenderly,
you kiss away my tears;
in your warmth, worries fly,
releasing all my fears.
Each breath upon my tear-stained cheek,
a balm to heal my wound;
you gently lead my heart ashore
no longer left marooned.
Allow my love to anchor you
no more a drifting waif;
sweet vision, pay the storm no mind,
rest easy, you are safe;
True love so rare and seldom found
a lifetime to embrace,
united we withstand each squall,
together face to face.
By Kristina Hooper and Robert Hewett Sr.
Your arms enfold me tenderly,
you kiss away my tears;
in your warmth, worries fly,
releasing all my fears.
Each breath upon my tear-stained cheek,
a balm to heal my wound;
you gently lead my heart ashore
no longer left marooned.
Allow my love to anchor you
no more a drifting waif;
sweet vision, pay the storm no mind,
rest easy, you are safe;
True love so rare and seldom found
a lifetime to embrace,
united we withstand each squall,
together face to face.
Post-Thyroid Surgery Thoughts--By Suzanne Clement--United States
Post-Thyroid Surgery Thoughts
It’s a miracle!
how could I be miserable
with a swelled-up neck
and find out that I would need
to have thyroid surgery
and then discover
after the operation
the removed area
ended up not being the
beginning of cancer.
Thank you, God!
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
It’s a miracle!
how could I be miserable
with a swelled-up neck
and find out that I would need
to have thyroid surgery
and then discover
after the operation
the removed area
ended up not being the
beginning of cancer.
Thank you, God!
Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Haiku--By Rita Odeh--Israel
cloudy morning-
a kite flies higher
than its string
_______________
that full moon-
a coin falls into
the beggar's palm
_______________
distant gunfire-
ivy leaves creep along
the old ruins
_______________
wailing wall-
the priest leans against
his own shadow
_______________
moonless sky-
military raincoats hung
on a bamboo fence
_______________
Rita Odeh is the author of seven books, including Buds of Dream which will be released May 2014 and will be available from Amazon. Her haiku and haiga have been honored with many awards. To read more of her poems, please go to Catching the Moment, http://rita-odeh.blogspot.com
a kite flies higher
than its string
_______________
that full moon-
a coin falls into
the beggar's palm
_______________
distant gunfire-
ivy leaves creep along
the old ruins
_______________
wailing wall-
the priest leans against
his own shadow
_______________
moonless sky-
military raincoats hung
on a bamboo fence
_______________
Rita Odeh is the author of seven books, including Buds of Dream which will be released May 2014 and will be available from Amazon. Her haiku and haiga have been honored with many awards. To read more of her poems, please go to Catching the Moment, http://rita-odeh.blogspot.com
Dichtung--By Joe Maverick--England
Dichtung
meine inspirationen
teilwiese nür
bekkome ich.
doch jeder stück
grösser zum glück.
Translation
my inspiration
comes to me
in pieces yet
every one such,
enriches so much
Joe Maverick is a freelance author, from a widely educated background. He has been writing for 27 years. He is interested in feedback from the public; readers are the reason for his writing. Some of his poems are short and succinct, others tell a story. He would like to see the literary flame burn bright in any day and age, believing that it can feed the spirit and bring enlightenment.
meine inspirationen
teilwiese nür
bekkome ich.
doch jeder stück
grösser zum glück.
Translation
my inspiration
comes to me
in pieces yet
every one such,
enriches so much
Joe Maverick is a freelance author, from a widely educated background. He has been writing for 27 years. He is interested in feedback from the public; readers are the reason for his writing. Some of his poems are short and succinct, others tell a story. He would like to see the literary flame burn bright in any day and age, believing that it can feed the spirit and bring enlightenment.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
If Walls Could Talk--By Gerald Heyder--United States
If Walls Could Talk
The spooks are out
come Halloween night
with giggled echoes
from children’s delight,
take this lesson
from unsettled life--
objects reveal more
than chattering wife!
If walls could talk
what tales they’d tell
as pictures are eyes
in rooms they dwell.
Ponder your deeds
both lady and sir,
could a haunting house
someday occur?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin
The spooks are out
come Halloween night
with giggled echoes
from children’s delight,
take this lesson
from unsettled life--
objects reveal more
than chattering wife!
If walls could talk
what tales they’d tell
as pictures are eyes
in rooms they dwell.
Ponder your deeds
both lady and sir,
could a haunting house
someday occur?
Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Drawings Made of Chalk--By Pam Murray--Canada
Drawings Made of Chalk
I dream across the years
Of footprints in the sand,
Of splashing in the sea
And you holding my hand.
I see those long car rides
When you and I would talk.
Today those passing years
Are drawings made of chalk
And time becomes a hand
That brushes them away.
At night when I’m alone
I reach for yesterday,
For hugging as we passed.
You were my solid ground.
Your voice filled me with song.
I strive to catch that sound.
Born in Calgary, Alberta, Pam Murray has been writing poetry since the mid-1960’s. She was married for over 41 years and has two daughters, a son-in-law, and a grandson. Pam has been published in a variety of venues. Her proudest writing accomplishment was a poem she wrote for a United Way fundraiser, which was later framed with a French translation and hung on the wall of the legislature in Ottawa, Canada. To her, poetry is a transposition of a vision she sees in her mind. Writing and crocheting are her passions.
I dream across the years
Of footprints in the sand,
Of splashing in the sea
And you holding my hand.
I see those long car rides
When you and I would talk.
Today those passing years
Are drawings made of chalk
And time becomes a hand
That brushes them away.
At night when I’m alone
I reach for yesterday,
For hugging as we passed.
You were my solid ground.
Your voice filled me with song.
I strive to catch that sound.
Born in Calgary, Alberta, Pam Murray has been writing poetry since the mid-1960’s. She was married for over 41 years and has two daughters, a son-in-law, and a grandson. Pam has been published in a variety of venues. Her proudest writing accomplishment was a poem she wrote for a United Way fundraiser, which was later framed with a French translation and hung on the wall of the legislature in Ottawa, Canada. To her, poetry is a transposition of a vision she sees in her mind. Writing and crocheting are her passions.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds--United States
Oh, But For The Butterfly!
By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds
Oh, how I long to ever see thy wings in glorious flutter!
I’m speechless and I stand in awe; thee melts my heart like butter!
To softly grace upon my hand a breath of fresh, soft breeze
I will not move, I will not breathe, I will not even sneeze!
For fear that I might scare you off; you vanish to the sky
Come flutter of thy blessed wings, O, lovely butterfly!
I watch you through my window pane
Spectacular in elegance and grace to match
It's hard to not get emotional over such beauty
Hues of violet, yellow, blue, orange and other!
Outstanding creature of admirable detail
Oh, how I wish I could soar with you!
By Sheri Stanley and Maurice Reynolds
Oh, how I long to ever see thy wings in glorious flutter!
I’m speechless and I stand in awe; thee melts my heart like butter!
To softly grace upon my hand a breath of fresh, soft breeze
I will not move, I will not breathe, I will not even sneeze!
For fear that I might scare you off; you vanish to the sky
Come flutter of thy blessed wings, O, lovely butterfly!
I watch you through my window pane
Spectacular in elegance and grace to match
It's hard to not get emotional over such beauty
Hues of violet, yellow, blue, orange and other!
Outstanding creature of admirable detail
Oh, how I wish I could soar with you!
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Life’s Richest Treasure--By Erich J. Goller--United States
Life’s Richest Treasure
Within a love that knows no bounds or heights
It is life’s richest treasure
With beauty and pleasure
With two hearts mending
leading to a happy place
forever with joy
longing for your hand to hold
it is love that fulfills life
where red roses climb
with golden rays of sunlight
bright blue sky above
we shall always share
memories as twilight falls
gleaming in the sky
Erich J. Goller was born in Vienna, Austria. A close world war two survivor, in 1955, he immigrated to California, where he made his living as a mechanic and as an actor. He been married for 56 years, has one daughter and one son. He is a published author of seven books. He now resides In Nashville, Tennessee, still loves to write, also enjoys doing art work. His web site, www.poetvienna.com
Within a love that knows no bounds or heights
It is life’s richest treasure
With beauty and pleasure
With two hearts mending
leading to a happy place
forever with joy
longing for your hand to hold
it is love that fulfills life
where red roses climb
with golden rays of sunlight
bright blue sky above
we shall always share
memories as twilight falls
gleaming in the sky
Erich J. Goller was born in Vienna, Austria. A close world war two survivor, in 1955, he immigrated to California, where he made his living as a mechanic and as an actor. He been married for 56 years, has one daughter and one son. He is a published author of seven books. He now resides In Nashville, Tennessee, still loves to write, also enjoys doing art work. His web site, www.poetvienna.com
‘noir’ broken monokus--By Ralph Stott--England
a contortionist…….
…….the face fits
________________
stop-and-search…….
…….for lost youth
________________
memory-lane…….
…….a flyover
________________
the wind of change.......
.......a flag at half-mast
________________
a man sleeps alone.......
.......heads full of crowds
________________
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 Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
…….the face fits
________________
stop-and-search…….
…….for lost youth
________________
memory-lane…….
…….a flyover
________________
the wind of change.......
.......a flag at half-mast
________________
a man sleeps alone.......
.......heads full of crowds
________________
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 Twist and Twist Again, which is a collection of Twister poems, a form he created.
Monday, April 7, 2014
jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States
for somewhere
we see dreams lost
in cloud shapes
while snow falls
in april
and we taste the pain
that comes
from loving deeply
but smile
for somewhere
there's a pure unanxious place
where we can go
lifting us gently
across edges
Thoughts from Nila Webster--"This poem was one of my mother's very favorites. True to the poem, her hometown of Rochester, NY, had almost 10 inches of snow recently. I taste the pain of loving her deeply and missing her, yet I am comforted that she is now in a pure, unanxious place. I think of her always as happy."
we see dreams lost
in cloud shapes
while snow falls
in april
and we taste the pain
that comes
from loving deeply
but smile
for somewhere
there's a pure unanxious place
where we can go
lifting us gently
across edges
Thoughts from Nila Webster--"This poem was one of my mother's very favorites. True to the poem, her hometown of Rochester, NY, had almost 10 inches of snow recently. I taste the pain of loving her deeply and missing her, yet I am comforted that she is now in a pure, unanxious place. I think of her always as happy."
What you are for me--By Gert W. Knop--Germany
What you are for me
You are the sunlight,
to lighten my face.
You are my beacon
shining through haze.
You are the light breeze
of clear summer's air,
with the scent of flowers
caressing my hair,
You are the song
of birds in spring.
You are the music
which makes me
swing.
You are the sound,
reaching my heart.
You are my Love,
nothing can tear us apart
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.
You are the sunlight,
to lighten my face.
You are my beacon
shining through haze.
You are the light breeze
of clear summer's air,
with the scent of flowers
caressing my hair,
You are the song
of birds in spring.
You are the music
which makes me
swing.
You are the sound,
reaching my heart.
You are my Love,
nothing can tear us apart
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.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Hello Dad--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States
Hello Dad
Hello Dad, it’s been awhile since I talked to you.
Fifty Three years to be exact, but that you knew.
I am the only one of your children left here on earth.
Just want to tell you things I recall from our hearth.
Those wonderful adventure stories that you told
Chapter by chapter, night after night, treasures to hold.
I want you to know that I am doing my best
To keep alive your Miz Molly and all the rest.
You were a good father to us while here on Earth,
Respected by friends and neighbors, priceless your worth.
Loved by four boys you raised without reservation.
Your integrity was worthy of celebration.
My ingrained soul values about life and living
Were defined by your consistent life of giving.
You read the Bible, taught me the joy of a breeze.
The little church nestled among the Cottonwood trees.
Where I was saved and learned to love the Lord.
I was happy, times were tough, but never too hard.
Your stories, your faith, your character, your helping hand,
I cherish you father rest in peace in God’s land.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
Hello Dad, it’s been awhile since I talked to you.
Fifty Three years to be exact, but that you knew.
I am the only one of your children left here on earth.
Just want to tell you things I recall from our hearth.
Those wonderful adventure stories that you told
Chapter by chapter, night after night, treasures to hold.
I want you to know that I am doing my best
To keep alive your Miz Molly and all the rest.
You were a good father to us while here on Earth,
Respected by friends and neighbors, priceless your worth.
Loved by four boys you raised without reservation.
Your integrity was worthy of celebration.
My ingrained soul values about life and living
Were defined by your consistent life of giving.
You read the Bible, taught me the joy of a breeze.
The little church nestled among the Cottonwood trees.
Where I was saved and learned to love the Lord.
I was happy, times were tough, but never too hard.
Your stories, your faith, your character, your helping hand,
I cherish you father rest in peace in God’s land.
Robert Hewett Sr. was born in 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at "roberthewettsr.hubpages.com"
Luna--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada
Luna
The clouds play hide and seek as they glide
Ever so playful among the starry heavens
Stars twinkle shining like diamonds
As the full moon smiles brightly.
Shadows softly engulf the forest below
A hush descends as twilight fades
Luna's blue hue lights the world below
Twilight disappears hiding our view.
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.
The clouds play hide and seek as they glide
Ever so playful among the starry heavens
Stars twinkle shining like diamonds
As the full moon smiles brightly.
Shadows softly engulf the forest below
A hush descends as twilight fades
Luna's blue hue lights the world below
Twilight disappears hiding our view.
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.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Am I the Only One?--By Zona Rowand Lawrence--United States
Am I the Only One?
I am but a grain of sand in the universe
standing alone in the setting sun.
As the waves come in to shore and reverse
I wonder – am I the only one?
Those who have gone before –
were they grains of sands like me?
Is it just me who longs for more
than standing beside the sea?
Sometimes I feel so very tall
capable and serene.
Then again, less than small
dreaming of faraway fields of green –
where I can go play some ball
with friends and foe alike --
laugh and giggle through the day,
dance and ride my bike.
There must be another place to stand –
perhaps in poetry and verse –
to be more than a grain of sand --
in our beautiful universe.
After many years as a stage performer, Zona found she enjoyed writing. She studies at Paradise Valley Community College. Her work has appeared in several anthologies at the school and elsewhere. In 2004, she won $20,000.00 for her poem, “Indiscriminate Sestina.” She and her husband, Jack, are creating a Diet by Poetry Journal to help whittle away those pounds with a little rhyming fun. Last year in the Paradise Review her poem, “If He Had Hit Me”, won third place and her one act play, “A Shaggy Dog Story”, won second place.
I am but a grain of sand in the universe
standing alone in the setting sun.
As the waves come in to shore and reverse
I wonder – am I the only one?
Those who have gone before –
were they grains of sands like me?
Is it just me who longs for more
than standing beside the sea?
Sometimes I feel so very tall
capable and serene.
Then again, less than small
dreaming of faraway fields of green –
where I can go play some ball
with friends and foe alike --
laugh and giggle through the day,
dance and ride my bike.
There must be another place to stand –
perhaps in poetry and verse –
to be more than a grain of sand --
in our beautiful universe.
After many years as a stage performer, Zona found she enjoyed writing. She studies at Paradise Valley Community College. Her work has appeared in several anthologies at the school and elsewhere. In 2004, she won $20,000.00 for her poem, “Indiscriminate Sestina.” She and her husband, Jack, are creating a Diet by Poetry Journal to help whittle away those pounds with a little rhyming fun. Last year in the Paradise Review her poem, “If He Had Hit Me”, won third place and her one act play, “A Shaggy Dog Story”, won second place.
Au re-voir Dawn--By Beth Winchcombe--England
Au re-voir Dawn
How does one mend a broken heart
when it's shattered in fragments
beyond repair?
The harder you love,
the harder the pain
when one dies!
How does one cope with a broken heart?
Everyone is different.
Does time ever heal?
Maybe, those un-shed tears, seal
the cracks one day.
Will this pain and sorrow
ease tomorrow?
Maybe it will after MANY tomorrows!
Grieving is a slow process,
for those living.
The end of life, for the departed is their relief.
RIP, my loved one.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
How does one mend a broken heart
when it's shattered in fragments
beyond repair?
The harder you love,
the harder the pain
when one dies!
How does one cope with a broken heart?
Everyone is different.
Does time ever heal?
Maybe, those un-shed tears, seal
the cracks one day.
Will this pain and sorrow
ease tomorrow?
Maybe it will after MANY tomorrows!
Grieving is a slow process,
for those living.
The end of life, for the departed is their relief.
RIP, my loved one.
Beth Winchcombe is now a retired housewife and enjoys writing poetry, also painting in oils. She lives in Derbyshire, England.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Jack Horne, England; Sandra Stefanowich, Canada and Carolyn Devonshire, United States
Ode to the Unwalkables
By Jack Horne, Sandra Stefanowich and Carolyn Devonshire
Jack's Carpet Slippers:
My slippers were backless and red
'So comfy to walk in,' I said
But I tripped and I slipped
Like a pancake I flipped
And bounced down the stairs on my head
Sandra's High Heels:
Walking in high heels I do dread
Pathetic sight to all ahead
Leaving me in dire straits
A foal on roller skates
On my butt my face cherry red
Carolyn's Cowboy Boots:
Leather toes so pointy and slick
For me cowboy boots did the trick
Until I forced them on
Scrunch! Where had my toes gone?
Had to pry them off with a stick
By Jack Horne, Sandra Stefanowich and Carolyn Devonshire
Jack's Carpet Slippers:
My slippers were backless and red
'So comfy to walk in,' I said
But I tripped and I slipped
Like a pancake I flipped
And bounced down the stairs on my head
Sandra's High Heels:
Walking in high heels I do dread
Pathetic sight to all ahead
Leaving me in dire straits
A foal on roller skates
On my butt my face cherry red
Carolyn's Cowboy Boots:
Leather toes so pointy and slick
For me cowboy boots did the trick
Until I forced them on
Scrunch! Where had my toes gone?
Had to pry them off with a stick
Christ Love--By Shirley Smothers--United States
Christ Love
Heart beats young,
heart beats old,
with a love of Christ
your heart beats bold.
Be ye rich,
be ye poor,
with a love of Christ
you'll have so much more.
The rain falls
on just and unjust.
But remember Christ
rain settles the dust.
Don't float listlessly
on a sea of confusion,
for a life without Christ
is a life of delusion.
Don't be the sand
upon the shore,
open your heart
Christ will open the door.
Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.
Heart beats young,
heart beats old,
with a love of Christ
your heart beats bold.
Be ye rich,
be ye poor,
with a love of Christ
you'll have so much more.
The rain falls
on just and unjust.
But remember Christ
rain settles the dust.
Don't float listlessly
on a sea of confusion,
for a life without Christ
is a life of delusion.
Don't be the sand
upon the shore,
open your heart
Christ will open the door.
Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.
One Line Haiku--By Chen-ou Liu--Canada
snowflakes on my left on my right her crimson lips
the sound of spring rain on top of our moaning
her face in our cracked bedroom window blue moon
day after the blizzard her razor-sharp words
cold snap breaking down thoughts of my ex
__________
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/
the sound of spring rain on top of our moaning
her face in our cracked bedroom window blue moon
day after the blizzard her razor-sharp words
cold snap breaking down thoughts of my ex
__________
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/
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Things Not Known--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand
Things Not Known
Things known rule the day
As I plod through the labyrinth
To enable me to know what to do
Then it strikes its familiar pose
And I know everything I don't know
Is what I must know.
To complete the journey to end-time
A magic path to transformation
It's the rules that govern the stretched
Known highway
I'll find it in a sudden critique
Launched in inexplicable downfalls
Or with a child stumbling through
Unknown words
Nothing will be the same again
I will know that I know
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.
Things known rule the day
As I plod through the labyrinth
To enable me to know what to do
Then it strikes its familiar pose
And I know everything I don't know
Is what I must know.
To complete the journey to end-time
A magic path to transformation
It's the rules that govern the stretched
Known highway
I'll find it in a sudden critique
Launched in inexplicable downfalls
Or with a child stumbling through
Unknown words
Nothing will be the same again
I will know that I know
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.
Addressing the Loss--By Maralee Gerke--United States
Addressing the Loss
I haven’t crossed her name
out of my address book
my heart stops me.
She is recently gone.
Her birthday this month
leaves me orphaned.
She is ash now.
Buried with my dad on a hill.
Severed connections flap
like tatters in October wind.
Someday maybe, I’ll
be able to erase her
from my book
but never from my heart.
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.
I haven’t crossed her name
out of my address book
my heart stops me.
She is recently gone.
Her birthday this month
leaves me orphaned.
She is ash now.
Buried with my dad on a hill.
Severed connections flap
like tatters in October wind.
Someday maybe, I’ll
be able to erase her
from my book
but never from my heart.
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.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
In An Old Cathedral--By Terry O’Leary--France
In An Old Cathedral
She knelt upon a plank of oaken,
sable cloak, her mourning guise,
and sensed the breath of distant sighs,
pale shades of bane behind blue eyes…
While clasping close a cross-like token
(holding hope for those in need)
she prayed her Lord "please intercede,
my woe be washed, my soul be freed"…
Forgotten words he once had spoken
(echoed dim beneath the dome)
swept sweetness of the honeycomb
o'er distant realms they used to roam…
At midnight's knell, in dreams awoken,
memories of love unchained…
Though loneliness of grief remained,
she still held hope… hope hadn't waned…
And when the dawn had early broken,
by the font, in peace she lay…
As sudden as a sunrise ray
the light of life had slipped away…
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
She knelt upon a plank of oaken,
sable cloak, her mourning guise,
and sensed the breath of distant sighs,
pale shades of bane behind blue eyes…
While clasping close a cross-like token
(holding hope for those in need)
she prayed her Lord "please intercede,
my woe be washed, my soul be freed"…
Forgotten words he once had spoken
(echoed dim beneath the dome)
swept sweetness of the honeycomb
o'er distant realms they used to roam…
At midnight's knell, in dreams awoken,
memories of love unchained…
Though loneliness of grief remained,
she still held hope… hope hadn't waned…
And when the dawn had early broken,
by the font, in peace she lay…
As sudden as a sunrise ray
the light of life had slipped away…
Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".
We, Forest--By Russell Sivey--United States
We, Forest
We, forest, I call all of us to come forth
In simpler times I perceived being much more
We were the mighty expanse of common worth
Greater than the ocean waves that come up shore
We, forest call to union the great beckon
On a united front we combine as one
And onlookers would see our stature with awe
Making us greater than the crows deathly caw
Russell Sivey lives in the United States and has been writing poetry for 26 years (after his major car accident that left his arm paralyzed). He has been improving year after year. Russell enjoys reading poetry as well as writing it He finds himself listening to almost any type of music. Russell has been with Poetry Soup for almost 3 years and enjoys the poetry that he reads there from his friends. He is currently attending school for a Creative Writing degree with a specialization in Poetry. Yes, that means he will have a poetry degree. He looks forward to reading everyone's poems here on this site. His muse is the moon.
We, forest, I call all of us to come forth
In simpler times I perceived being much more
We were the mighty expanse of common worth
Greater than the ocean waves that come up shore
We, forest call to union the great beckon
On a united front we combine as one
And onlookers would see our stature with awe
Making us greater than the crows deathly caw
Russell Sivey lives in the United States and has been writing poetry for 26 years (after his major car accident that left his arm paralyzed). He has been improving year after year. Russell enjoys reading poetry as well as writing it He finds himself listening to almost any type of music. Russell has been with Poetry Soup for almost 3 years and enjoys the poetry that he reads there from his friends. He is currently attending school for a Creative Writing degree with a specialization in Poetry. Yes, that means he will have a poetry degree. He looks forward to reading everyone's poems here on this site. His muse is the moon.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
That’s Life--By Eleanor Michael--United States
That’s Life
When everything
is said and done,
I’d like to think
I made a difference.
Then I remember all
the bad advice I’ve given,
well meant but not wise,
that should have worked.
The decisions I made
with unforeseen consequences
for those I wanted to help.
What can one do now?
In fairness, I must have
done some things right.
I must have helped someone.
I still might.
Either way, I know
I’ve left my footprint
on the world--a big one--
with my 10-wide shoe.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
When everything
is said and done,
I’d like to think
I made a difference.
Then I remember all
the bad advice I’ve given,
well meant but not wise,
that should have worked.
The decisions I made
with unforeseen consequences
for those I wanted to help.
What can one do now?
In fairness, I must have
done some things right.
I must have helped someone.
I still might.
Either way, I know
I’ve left my footprint
on the world--a big one--
with my 10-wide shoe.
Eleanor Michael has published poetry and short stories in a variety of venues.
Empty Hands--By Linda Hurdwell--England
Empty Hands
And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun.
The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of time
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime.
The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
But yearns to know much more.
Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
And so the joyous tide of life
Is shrivelling ‘neath the sun
Its absurd complexity
Has almost had its fun.
The subtle sunset covers up
The quickening hands of time
And like a grotesque drama
Acts out a silent mime.
The sea of breath ebbs away
To a salty shore
Confused and fearful of the day
But yearns to know much more.
Why has this tide sped on by?
Where is this promised land?
My soul it leaps toward the sky
And slips from both my hands.
Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years. She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born. She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published. Although now a pensioner, she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week. Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.
APRIL ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN MARCH
Tim Ryerson--United States
Joe Flach--United States
Elaine George--Canada
Elizabeth Howard--United States
Mary Kent--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Botswana, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States and Wales. I look forward to expanding this list in the future. Thank you to everyone that has supported Whispers in any way. --Sincerely, Karen
We have a world wide audience. If you are currently reading Whispers, please consider submitting a poem for consideration. You may contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net for guidelines. Thank you.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
Rhoda Galgiani released Expressions From the Inside Out, a book of poetry in 2011. Rhoda's second book is a child's story entitled No Snow for Johnny in 2012. Both books are published by APF Publisher. They have received good reviews and is available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Rhoda at: chesakat@verizon.net
Carolyn Devonshire, Sandra Stefanowich and Jack Horne announce the release of their collaboration poetry book, Shades of Darkness and Light. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $2.50 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Jack Horne announces the release of his debut novel, A Ghost Hunt: a paranormal romance. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $3.99
http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
John W. (Bill) Williams published a science fiction book that he also illustrated called The Dream Hill. To order copies from Xlibris Company call 1-888-795-4274 or go to www.Xlibris.com The website provides sample pages of the book for interested readers.
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Please consider supporting The Pen, The Jokester, and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
Jean Calkins, editor: The Jokester, 2 pages of clean jokes free by email monthly, a forever stamp by snail mail (monthly or quarterly). Help bring smiles to shut-ins by contributing forever stamps. Even one stamp helps. Jean Calkins, 260 4th St., Waynesville, NC 28786-3762. jcalkins01@charter.net
Maurice J. Reynolds, the editor of the poetry publication Creative Inspirations, is seeking poetry 20 lines or less for his print magazine. Complete guidelines are available at www.tgbtgpublictions.com Stamps or cash donations would be appreciated to help with mailing costs.
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
Tim Ryerson--United States
Joe Flach--United States
Elaine George--Canada
Elizabeth Howard--United States
Mary Kent--United States
Please welcome them to our community. We now have representatives from the following countries--Australia, Botswana, Canada, Canary Islands, England, France, Germany, India, Malawi, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States and Wales. I look forward to expanding this list in the future. Thank you to everyone that has supported Whispers in any way. --Sincerely, Karen
We have a world wide audience. If you are currently reading Whispers, please consider submitting a poem for consideration. You may contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net for guidelines. Thank you.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Sheri Stanley has opened a new web site and invites you to visit at: www.poetryandbeyond.net Please leave comments and visit often.
Rhoda Galgiani released Expressions From the Inside Out, a book of poetry in 2011. Rhoda's second book is a child's story entitled No Snow for Johnny in 2012. Both books are published by APF Publisher. They have received good reviews and is available online at lulu.com and amazon.com (search book titles or author's name at the appropriate website) or contact Rhoda at: chesakat@verizon.net
Carolyn Devonshire, Sandra Stefanowich and Jack Horne announce the release of their collaboration poetry book, Shades of Darkness and Light. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $2.50 http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
Jack Horne announces the release of his debut novel, A Ghost Hunt: a paranormal romance. This book is currently available from eTreasuresPublishing.com, price $3.99
http://jmhorneghosthunt.blogspot.com/
John W. (Bill) Williams published a science fiction book that he also illustrated called The Dream Hill. To order copies from Xlibris Company call 1-888-795-4274 or go to www.Xlibris.com The website provides sample pages of the book for interested readers.
PUBLICATION/CONTEST OPPORTUNITIES
Please consider supporting The Pen, The Jokester, and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
Jean Calkins, editor: The Jokester, 2 pages of clean jokes free by email monthly, a forever stamp by snail mail (monthly or quarterly). Help bring smiles to shut-ins by contributing forever stamps. Even one stamp helps. Jean Calkins, 260 4th St., Waynesville, NC 28786-3762. jcalkins01@charter.net
Maurice J. Reynolds, the editor of the poetry publication Creative Inspirations, is seeking poetry 20 lines or less for his print magazine. Complete guidelines are available at www.tgbtgpublictions.com Stamps or cash donations would be appreciated to help with mailing costs.
Arthur C. Ford, poet/editor of The Pen (Poetry Newsletter) is looking for new subscribers and submissions. See information at:www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com
(click on guidelines).
Whispers is always looking for new writers to join our community. Please send family friendly poems 20 lines or less to gksm@cableone.net Complete guidelines posted 1/21/2013. Thank you to everyone who has already contributed to the site.
Ads are placed by the underlined names. Whispers has not verified the accuracy of all the information.
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