I Love To Leave
I gaze up at a crescent moon
And hear an owl begin to croon
Its waking call beneath the stars.
The shadows form uneven bars
Across the hills where forests lie
In supplication to the sky.
The night’s black velvet disarray
Gives richness to the end of day
As it spreads down to touch my feet.
I sit and feel it, now replete
As time slows down and soothes my mind.
I love to leave the day behind
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.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Thursday, March 12, 2015
One Moment of Peace--By Sheri Stanley--United States
One Moment of Peace
Gentle dove as white as snow
Fantasy on wings I go
Flying through infinite sky
Fears diminish, glorify
Guiding light, finite below
In slow motion, precious flow
Worldly life left far behind
Sweet the tempo to unwind
Float among celestial light
Wondrous view erase the night
Love beyond the wildest dream
Waterfall in peaceful stream
Gentle dove as white as snow
Fantasy on wings I flow.
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family.
Gentle dove as white as snow
Fantasy on wings I go
Flying through infinite sky
Fears diminish, glorify
Guiding light, finite below
In slow motion, precious flow
Worldly life left far behind
Sweet the tempo to unwind
Float among celestial light
Wondrous view erase the night
Love beyond the wildest dream
Waterfall in peaceful stream
Gentle dove as white as snow
Fantasy on wings I flow.
Sheri is an artist, song writer and poet. She is also a graphic and digital book illustrator. A citizen of the United States she enjoys golf and music and quiet evenings at home with her much cherished family.
Small People--By Elly Wouterse--Netherlands
Small People
such visible void
of a deserted beach
vague phantoms
conquering their own world
in their humble way
settling down in unity
moving on with the winds of the sea
silently
in their private world
holding tight
in togetherness
they unite
in sun-drenched shadows
invisible lives
of great small people
afar on stranded sand
Dutch poetess Elly Wouterse is oftentimes focused observing the world surrounding her. While watching, noticing, listening, thinking, dreaming and - or fantasizing she often finds the inspiration resulting in Poetical Visuals published on her own website - http://www.ellywouterse.com/ and in her first publication, Between Moonset and Sunrise. http://www.ellywouterse.com/special-edition.html
such visible void
of a deserted beach
vague phantoms
conquering their own world
in their humble way
settling down in unity
moving on with the winds of the sea
silently
in their private world
holding tight
in togetherness
they unite
in sun-drenched shadows
invisible lives
of great small people
afar on stranded sand
Dutch poetess Elly Wouterse is oftentimes focused observing the world surrounding her. While watching, noticing, listening, thinking, dreaming and - or fantasizing she often finds the inspiration resulting in Poetical Visuals published on her own website - http://www.ellywouterse.com/ and in her first publication, Between Moonset and Sunrise. http://www.ellywouterse.com/special-edition.html
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
The Mast--By John Polselli--United States
The Mast
I’m called to climb the bare-branched tree,
Whose emerald leaves are long-deceased,
And from its withered height I see
The arid moon, whose brow is creased
By folds of clouds that veil her face--
A modest bride left solitaire--
Within that lonesome, silent place,
Before the altar in the air.
Yet poised between the earth and moon--
A mariner on watch at sea--
Another day is dawning soon,
And there is time and hope for me.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.
I’m called to climb the bare-branched tree,
Whose emerald leaves are long-deceased,
And from its withered height I see
The arid moon, whose brow is creased
By folds of clouds that veil her face--
A modest bride left solitaire--
Within that lonesome, silent place,
Before the altar in the air.
Yet poised between the earth and moon--
A mariner on watch at sea--
Another day is dawning soon,
And there is time and hope for me.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.
I Ponder Upon Such Beauty--By Leokadia Durmaj--Australia
I Ponder Upon Such Beauty
Such Beauty is captured within nature’s gift,
The universe in her beautiful eyes he sees.
At the touch of the pearl heavens stars converse,
Creation beckons what the smiling face sees.
And, ‘mid the shrieks over the wave immerse,
He’s awe-struck at her beauty at the peak of the storm.
He smiles at the silence of the moon;
Watching over them mysteriously
Burning brightness illuminates the scenic view,
Such beauty exposed, he sighs, seeking refuge in silence.
Breathlessly he withdraws from the orchard’s golden bloom,
The trees wave, the night had her dream, as the stars dim.
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
Such Beauty is captured within nature’s gift,
The universe in her beautiful eyes he sees.
At the touch of the pearl heavens stars converse,
Creation beckons what the smiling face sees.
And, ‘mid the shrieks over the wave immerse,
He’s awe-struck at her beauty at the peak of the storm.
He smiles at the silence of the moon;
Watching over them mysteriously
Burning brightness illuminates the scenic view,
Such beauty exposed, he sighs, seeking refuge in silence.
Breathlessly he withdraws from the orchard’s golden bloom,
The trees wave, the night had her dream, as the stars dim.
Leokadia Durmaj is a published writer from Australia.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Creation--By Barbara Siekierski--United States
Creation
The earth is yours, Lord, and everything in it.
The oceans bow down at your command.
Rivers and streams delight in your presence.
The sun and moon shine on your holy name.
The mountains reach up to touch your face.
Trees dance in the palm of your hand.
Flowers raise their eyes to the heavens.
Birds sing praises to your name.
Your word is within our hearts
that reaches deep into our souls
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
The earth is yours, Lord, and everything in it.
The oceans bow down at your command.
Rivers and streams delight in your presence.
The sun and moon shine on your holy name.
The mountains reach up to touch your face.
Trees dance in the palm of your hand.
Flowers raise their eyes to the heavens.
Birds sing praises to your name.
Your word is within our hearts
that reaches deep into our souls
Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Annie Jenkin and Jack Horne--England
The Circus
By Annie Jenkin and Jack Horne
Excitement is mounting for the Circus tonight!
Anticipation over, elation in full flight
Hands held tight, we look in awe as we step through the door.
A fanfare of music and atmosphere in uproar,
A brightly dressed ringmaster in top hat and tails
Enthusiastically, eloquently regales.
Clowns with big happy smiles, no frowns
Slim girls in leotards, some in gowns,
Troops climb ropes and head for the Trapeze swings
Whilst jugglers toss batons and giant rings.
This happy audience is unaware
The chap in hat and tails tore out his hair,
He’d wrung his hands and cussed at all in sight,
And shouted, “Alcohol is banned tonight.”
His tortured mind was full of last night’s show,
With tightrope walkers falling far below,
Trapeze artists who’d let their partners slip
And bounce on safety nets (one cut her lip),
The jugglers dropped the batons, balls and toys,
While grumpy clowns scared the girls and boys.
What a night! What an absolute delight.
In the Big Top! Amid an array of dazzling sights,
It was as if we had been sprinkled with some stardust,
Tears of laughter from clowns, White Face and Auguste.
It was all there, bubbles, cycles and custard pies
Musical flutes, magic tricks and spinning bow ties.
Up high, flyers with heart stopping routines
Of twists and turns, the youngest in their teens!
Forward and backward somersaults by lithe acrobats,
Synchronized like ribbons of dancing nimble cats.
When hearing the whooping, hollering and applause.
The ring master smiled broadly but mentally pressed pause.
Upon reflection, and through careful observation,
He proudly thought – staff deserved this admiration.
Hours of rigorous rehearsal, timing clinical
Provided the platform for such a spectacle
So tonight as he lies down to slumber
He prays the nightmares are fewer in number
Indeed he dreams about the circus ring
He enjoyed as a small boy on a horse performing!
By Annie Jenkin and Jack Horne
Excitement is mounting for the Circus tonight!
Anticipation over, elation in full flight
Hands held tight, we look in awe as we step through the door.
A fanfare of music and atmosphere in uproar,
A brightly dressed ringmaster in top hat and tails
Enthusiastically, eloquently regales.
Clowns with big happy smiles, no frowns
Slim girls in leotards, some in gowns,
Troops climb ropes and head for the Trapeze swings
Whilst jugglers toss batons and giant rings.
This happy audience is unaware
The chap in hat and tails tore out his hair,
He’d wrung his hands and cussed at all in sight,
And shouted, “Alcohol is banned tonight.”
His tortured mind was full of last night’s show,
With tightrope walkers falling far below,
Trapeze artists who’d let their partners slip
And bounce on safety nets (one cut her lip),
The jugglers dropped the batons, balls and toys,
While grumpy clowns scared the girls and boys.
What a night! What an absolute delight.
In the Big Top! Amid an array of dazzling sights,
It was as if we had been sprinkled with some stardust,
Tears of laughter from clowns, White Face and Auguste.
It was all there, bubbles, cycles and custard pies
Musical flutes, magic tricks and spinning bow ties.
Up high, flyers with heart stopping routines
Of twists and turns, the youngest in their teens!
Forward and backward somersaults by lithe acrobats,
Synchronized like ribbons of dancing nimble cats.
When hearing the whooping, hollering and applause.
The ring master smiled broadly but mentally pressed pause.
Upon reflection, and through careful observation,
He proudly thought – staff deserved this admiration.
Hours of rigorous rehearsal, timing clinical
Provided the platform for such a spectacle
So tonight as he lies down to slumber
He prays the nightmares are fewer in number
Indeed he dreams about the circus ring
He enjoyed as a small boy on a horse performing!
The Human Curse--By Richard Sponaugle--United States
The Human Curse
We alone among creatures
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,
tough ‘our’ players don’t share wealth,
or occasional banned substances.
Halcyon 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.
We alone among creatures
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,
tough ‘our’ players don’t share wealth,
or occasional banned substances.
Halcyon 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.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Poems in Various Forms--By Ralph Stott--England
Poems in Various Forms
a broken street lamp
.......notice for a missing cat (broken monoku)
_____________________
Dandylion Clock (septimal)
Time
After time
After time.
_____________________
Bullets' Point (septimal)
. Cartoonists.
. Freedom of
Speech.
_____________________
Poppey's Appeal (septimal)
The
War-of-the-
Roses, ceased.
_____________________
The Kite's Lament (perfect six)
The
Wind in
The willows
_____________________
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.
a broken street lamp
.......notice for a missing cat (broken monoku)
_____________________
Dandylion Clock (septimal)
Time
After time
After time.
_____________________
Bullets' Point (septimal)
. Cartoonists.
. Freedom of
Speech.
_____________________
Poppey's Appeal (septimal)
The
War-of-the-
Roses, ceased.
_____________________
The Kite's Lament (perfect six)
The
Wind in
The willows
_____________________
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.
Visit of the Muse--By Barbara Tate--United States
Visit of the Muse
Rain turned to snow and evening to night.
I paced the cabin and scratched my name
in window frost before the Muse settled beside me giving dictation
by firelight, her kitten voice purring a cadence
to the altar of forgetfulness, whispering through
the midnight hour.
Before daybreak the onion had peeled and layers
exposed. She stared at me, clasped my hand
and disappeared in gray dawn shadows without saying goodbye
or telling where the dreams lay buried.
In silence before the storm flurries returned to rain
and dawn crept across the pages and clawed at
the written words. I shoved a log on the embers,
poured a cup of coffee and read words I forgot to forget.
Rain tapped at the window and my name disappeared
with the frost as pages turned to ashes
on the altar of forgetfulness.
Barbara Tate is a member of the Haiku Society of America, Gulf Coast Writers Association and the United Haiku and Tanka Society. Her work as appeared in Bear Creek Haiku, Frogpond, Cattails, Modern Haiku, Contemporary Haiku Online, Magnolia Quarterly, Poet's Art, Storyteller Magazine, Iconoclast, Santa Fe Literary Review, WestWard Quarterly, Restoring the Circle and Haiku Journal among others. She currently lives in Winchester, TN.
Rain turned to snow and evening to night.
I paced the cabin and scratched my name
in window frost before the Muse settled beside me giving dictation
by firelight, her kitten voice purring a cadence
to the altar of forgetfulness, whispering through
the midnight hour.
Before daybreak the onion had peeled and layers
exposed. She stared at me, clasped my hand
and disappeared in gray dawn shadows without saying goodbye
or telling where the dreams lay buried.
In silence before the storm flurries returned to rain
and dawn crept across the pages and clawed at
the written words. I shoved a log on the embers,
poured a cup of coffee and read words I forgot to forget.
Rain tapped at the window and my name disappeared
with the frost as pages turned to ashes
on the altar of forgetfulness.
Barbara Tate is a member of the Haiku Society of America, Gulf Coast Writers Association and the United Haiku and Tanka Society. Her work as appeared in Bear Creek Haiku, Frogpond, Cattails, Modern Haiku, Contemporary Haiku Online, Magnolia Quarterly, Poet's Art, Storyteller Magazine, Iconoclast, Santa Fe Literary Review, WestWard Quarterly, Restoring the Circle and Haiku Journal among others. She currently lives in Winchester, TN.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
A Piece of Stone--By Pijush Kanti Deb--India
A Piece of Stone
In the eve of his death
a macro-conscious great man
repents throughout his sub-conscious journey
on the way to his final destination,
realizes his life-long sacrifices
as incomplete, so ineffective
in putting two and two together
to welcome a better sun-rise for the mankind.
Indeed, he regrets from his depth of heart
hearing the scaring palpitation of the dirty hearts-
fueled with the garbage of selfishness and cruelty,
those are still left untouched and unwashed
though ever-skilled they are to pour hemlock
into the nectar prepared by him with great care.
In shame, he becomes a piece of stone
exhaling his last expiating breathing
and the people leave him alone standing
in a public place of interest beneath the open sky.
Pijush Kanti Deb is a new Indian poet with more than 210 published or accepted poems in national and international magazines and journals like Down in the dirt, Tajmahal Review, Pennine Ink, Hollow Publishing, CreativicaMagazine, Muse India, Teeth Dream Magazine, Hermes Poetry Journal, Madusa’s Kitchen and Grey Borders. At present, he is working as an Associate Professor in Economics.
In the eve of his death
a macro-conscious great man
repents throughout his sub-conscious journey
on the way to his final destination,
realizes his life-long sacrifices
as incomplete, so ineffective
in putting two and two together
to welcome a better sun-rise for the mankind.
Indeed, he regrets from his depth of heart
hearing the scaring palpitation of the dirty hearts-
fueled with the garbage of selfishness and cruelty,
those are still left untouched and unwashed
though ever-skilled they are to pour hemlock
into the nectar prepared by him with great care.
In shame, he becomes a piece of stone
exhaling his last expiating breathing
and the people leave him alone standing
in a public place of interest beneath the open sky.
Pijush Kanti Deb is a new Indian poet with more than 210 published or accepted poems in national and international magazines and journals like Down in the dirt, Tajmahal Review, Pennine Ink, Hollow Publishing, CreativicaMagazine, Muse India, Teeth Dream Magazine, Hermes Poetry Journal, Madusa’s Kitchen and Grey Borders. At present, he is working as an Associate Professor in Economics.
Timeless Perfection--By Russell Sivey--United States
Timeless Perfection
Somewhere exists a love
That envelopes every pore
Of imagination
That fills my heart
Pure of emotion, gleaming
With delight of you
You shine with a sparkle
That can only be stated
With timeless perfection
Love - a wondrous, harmonious
And incredible feeling
Of pure magnificence
You have made my life
Bearable, and laid straight
To my tender heart
That awaits your truth
Of majestic visions
Masterfully created, polished
Fortitude, that which you possess
And allow me to hold
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.
Somewhere exists a love
That envelopes every pore
Of imagination
That fills my heart
Pure of emotion, gleaming
With delight of you
You shine with a sparkle
That can only be stated
With timeless perfection
Love - a wondrous, harmonious
And incredible feeling
Of pure magnificence
You have made my life
Bearable, and laid straight
To my tender heart
That awaits your truth
Of majestic visions
Masterfully created, polished
Fortitude, that which you possess
And allow me to hold
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.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
The Simple Joy of Art--By Victoria Anderson Throop--Alaska, United States
The Simple Joy of Art
When eyes delight upon a work of Michelangelo—gut grinding art--
Creation by a mere man, from his enchanted hands
explode results of David –perhaps a heavenly message to impart
to the earthbound, scattered world flung far in lands--
mountain wrapped, plain dirt plains or sea-bound rocky shores.
Vagabonds, they come to marvel by foot or cart. In awe they stand
before the stone made man. Walking through the door,
drawn to David’s splendid daunting beauty—his far gaze
imparts to the viewer-- in that instant, in this life there is nothing more
of beauty needed to be seen. Years pass, nights will follow days
yet thoughts of this wondrous creature never waiver, never fade
but haunt delightedly like a nightlight in the darkness. What manner is there to praise
the artist for a gift so long lasting? Repeated thoughts played
reflecting David's beauty --and played again—durable throughout the years,
Clarified and Magnified in time, not diminished--when mind is disarrayed
______________
Sometimes grant writer and avid reader, Victoria and her binoculars haunt a lands end highway at Valdez, Alaska. Closer to Russia than New York, she spends her time writing and absorbing the magnificence of nature. As an ESL teacher she has lived in China, Kenya, Israel and the USA. Single Mother of six grown children, she fills the empty nest with words.
When eyes delight upon a work of Michelangelo—gut grinding art--
Creation by a mere man, from his enchanted hands
explode results of David –perhaps a heavenly message to impart
to the earthbound, scattered world flung far in lands--
mountain wrapped, plain dirt plains or sea-bound rocky shores.
Vagabonds, they come to marvel by foot or cart. In awe they stand
before the stone made man. Walking through the door,
drawn to David’s splendid daunting beauty—his far gaze
imparts to the viewer-- in that instant, in this life there is nothing more
of beauty needed to be seen. Years pass, nights will follow days
yet thoughts of this wondrous creature never waiver, never fade
but haunt delightedly like a nightlight in the darkness. What manner is there to praise
the artist for a gift so long lasting? Repeated thoughts played
reflecting David's beauty --and played again—durable throughout the years,
Clarified and Magnified in time, not diminished--when mind is disarrayed
______________
Sometimes grant writer and avid reader, Victoria and her binoculars haunt a lands end highway at Valdez, Alaska. Closer to Russia than New York, she spends her time writing and absorbing the magnificence of nature. As an ESL teacher she has lived in China, Kenya, Israel and the USA. Single Mother of six grown children, she fills the empty nest with words.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States and Leokadia Durmaj--Australia
I Could Be the One
By Robert Hewett Sr. and Leokadia Durmaj
I have a wish and a penny in my shoe,
If you say yes I can make your dream come true.
I could be the one to really make you glow
And show you just how fast our love can grow,
Making all your bold romantic dreams come true.
I will never be untrue or make you blue.
If you will say our rich love will surely grow.
Through life we’ll fly each with the other in tow.
A penny for your hopes for our dream of gold,
We’ll sing and dance with angels until we’re old.
Oh my darling could this be true indeed,
that you would love me for evermore, I see!
And make my every wish and dream come true
Your love so precious, could never make me blue
You are the one my heart longs for each night,
A gentleman who sings and dances, sigh!
Can steal a kiss, make me smile, touch my heart,
Loving you is like creating beautiful art
Growing old is our destiny to be.
Into your arms I fit so perfectly.
By Robert Hewett Sr. and Leokadia Durmaj
I have a wish and a penny in my shoe,
If you say yes I can make your dream come true.
I could be the one to really make you glow
And show you just how fast our love can grow,
Making all your bold romantic dreams come true.
I will never be untrue or make you blue.
If you will say our rich love will surely grow.
Through life we’ll fly each with the other in tow.
A penny for your hopes for our dream of gold,
We’ll sing and dance with angels until we’re old.
Oh my darling could this be true indeed,
that you would love me for evermore, I see!
And make my every wish and dream come true
Your love so precious, could never make me blue
You are the one my heart longs for each night,
A gentleman who sings and dances, sigh!
Can steal a kiss, make me smile, touch my heart,
Loving you is like creating beautiful art
Growing old is our destiny to be.
Into your arms I fit so perfectly.
Haiku--By Carolyn Noah Graetz--United States
style at my place
black and white
husband's darkroom time
_______________
lead in the dirt
mocking birds
sing differently
_______________
winter morning
sun shining
cold
_______________
Carolyn Noah Graetz was born in a small country community of Carroll County, Mississippi. She graduated from the Vaiden High School in that county in 1956. In the fall of that year she entered the Touro Infirmary School of Nursing in New Orleans. A few years later she attended and graduated from the school of nurse anesthesia at the Charity Hospital in New Orleans. She has been married for 50 years to Dr. Roger Graetz, and they have two children and four grandchildren who were born on three different continents.
black and white
husband's darkroom time
_______________
lead in the dirt
mocking birds
sing differently
_______________
winter morning
sun shining
cold
_______________
Carolyn Noah Graetz was born in a small country community of Carroll County, Mississippi. She graduated from the Vaiden High School in that county in 1956. In the fall of that year she entered the Touro Infirmary School of Nursing in New Orleans. A few years later she attended and graduated from the school of nurse anesthesia at the Charity Hospital in New Orleans. She has been married for 50 years to Dr. Roger Graetz, and they have two children and four grandchildren who were born on three different continents.
Friday, March 6, 2015
Raw Nature--By Jean Calkins--United States
Raw Nature
This dry spring in the Davis Mountains,
what strange phenomena
burns only the ground covering,
leaving trees and even dead shrubs untouched?
Detoured by roadways and dry washes,
it crawls over the mountain ridges,
slowly, carefully,
devouring each blade of brown grass,
caressing tree trunks,
but choosing not to linger.
It avoids the isolated home,
selective destruction at work.
Smoke obscures the ridges,
blankets this valley, not that,
following its preordained path.
The fire seems to have intelligence
and knows, far better than I,
that this, too, shall pass.
Jean, at 82, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at joker31277@yahoo.com
This dry spring in the Davis Mountains,
what strange phenomena
burns only the ground covering,
leaving trees and even dead shrubs untouched?
Detoured by roadways and dry washes,
it crawls over the mountain ridges,
slowly, carefully,
devouring each blade of brown grass,
caressing tree trunks,
but choosing not to linger.
It avoids the isolated home,
selective destruction at work.
Smoke obscures the ridges,
blankets this valley, not that,
following its preordained path.
The fire seems to have intelligence
and knows, far better than I,
that this, too, shall pass.
Jean, at 82, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at joker31277@yahoo.com
For the Unmarked Tomb--By Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi
For the Unmarked Tomb
(He was born kicking
and died fighting:
he lived for freedom
and whatever he did
he did for freedom’s sake.)
If greatness is height
or size;
if prowess is weighed
by the applause;
if manliness is eminence
and ascendancy;
you are an empty bottle.
But if heroism is heroism,
-no shape, no colour,
no prize-
you are the greatest hero
ever lived.
Your soul is,
forever and ever,
a beating tom-tom.
Ndongolera C. Mwangupili works as a Senior Inspector of Schools in Malawi. He has vast experience as a teacher of English and Bible Knowledge. Many of his short stories, poems and essays have been published in the Malawi News and Weekend Nation. His stories are anthologized in Modern Stories from Malawi and The Bachelor of Chikanda and Other Stories. His poem “The Genesis” was anthologized in The Time Traveller of Maravi: New Poetry from Malawi. His other poem “Letters to a Comrade” is published online in India on www.openroadreview.in. He believes that there is a thin line between fiction and reality. All that people write is a re-creation of what is already known to the writer and exists not only in the mind of the writer but also outside the writer, therefore, fiction is actually facts written as if they are not facts. He is married to Angella, and they have two daughters Mary Magdalena and Princess Cleopatra.
(He was born kicking
and died fighting:
he lived for freedom
and whatever he did
he did for freedom’s sake.)
If greatness is height
or size;
if prowess is weighed
by the applause;
if manliness is eminence
and ascendancy;
you are an empty bottle.
But if heroism is heroism,
-no shape, no colour,
no prize-
you are the greatest hero
ever lived.
Your soul is,
forever and ever,
a beating tom-tom.
Ndongolera C. Mwangupili works as a Senior Inspector of Schools in Malawi. He has vast experience as a teacher of English and Bible Knowledge. Many of his short stories, poems and essays have been published in the Malawi News and Weekend Nation. His stories are anthologized in Modern Stories from Malawi and The Bachelor of Chikanda and Other Stories. His poem “The Genesis” was anthologized in The Time Traveller of Maravi: New Poetry from Malawi. His other poem “Letters to a Comrade” is published online in India on www.openroadreview.in. He believes that there is a thin line between fiction and reality. All that people write is a re-creation of what is already known to the writer and exists not only in the mind of the writer but also outside the writer, therefore, fiction is actually facts written as if they are not facts. He is married to Angella, and they have two daughters Mary Magdalena and Princess Cleopatra.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Silence--By Maurice J. Reynolds--United States
Silence
A gentle stroke of the brush
finishing up the painting that
will make anyone stand in silence.
One looks in awe, a second has
tears in her eyes; both not saying
a word....a breathtaking view to
be sure. "Well, what is that?"
inquires a third person, breaking
the silence. I guess he wasn't
listening.
Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations. More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
A gentle stroke of the brush
finishing up the painting that
will make anyone stand in silence.
One looks in awe, a second has
tears in her eyes; both not saying
a word....a breathtaking view to
be sure. "Well, what is that?"
inquires a third person, breaking
the silence. I guess he wasn't
listening.
Maurice J. Reynolds is a freelance writer who has had material published in various publications. He is the owner of To God be the Glory! Publications, a literary ministry that produces the poetry publication Creative Inspirations. More information can be found at: www.tgbtgpublictions.com.
Steerage to Peerage--By Joe Maverick--England
Steerage to Peerage
Conjugating smashing rhymes; grasping at shards
Emerging cues opportunity, or miss-timed designs?
Hold unknowing, call the odds, peer into the masses
Through the mirror of travesty, tastes of reality define?
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.
Conjugating smashing rhymes; grasping at shards
Emerging cues opportunity, or miss-timed designs?
Hold unknowing, call the odds, peer into the masses
Through the mirror of travesty, tastes of reality define?
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, March 4, 2015
mama--By Lois Greene Stone--United States
mama
When overwhelmed from
trying to be a successful
wife, mother, job holder,
I hear her voice reminding
me that people and not things
are important; but I'm circled
by my day. When I need escape
doing childhood hobbies, she
changes guilt for squeezing
personal hours to permission
for creativity; sensing
helplessness, she embraces
with caring tones causing
me to understand how
to help myself.
Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & soft cover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.
When overwhelmed from
trying to be a successful
wife, mother, job holder,
I hear her voice reminding
me that people and not things
are important; but I'm circled
by my day. When I need escape
doing childhood hobbies, she
changes guilt for squeezing
personal hours to permission
for creativity; sensing
helplessness, she embraces
with caring tones causing
me to understand how
to help myself.
Lois Greene Stone, writer and poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been included in hard & soft cover book anthologies. Collections of her personal items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different divisions of The Smithsonian.
Grief--By April Mae M. Berza--Philippines
Grief
As the leaves touched the ground,
I watched how they became docile
Servants, surrendering gracefully.
This is the first time I inhaled
The presence of sadness in
My being that I almost fainted.
These leaves taught me to
Submit to sadness but I am firm
To plunge myself in bliss.
My sense of touch failed me
For I could not feel the warmth
Of the sun as it embraced.
April Mae M. Berza is the author of Confession ng isang Bob Ong fan (Flipside, 2014). She is a member of the Poetic Genius Society. Her poems and short stories appeared in numerous publications in the US, Canada, UK, Romania, India, Japan and the Philippines. Some of her poems are published in Poetica, The Manila Times and Contemporary Verse 2, to name a few. Her poem "E-Martial Law" was broadcast on IndoPacific Radio on KPFA 94.1FM/kpfa.org. She lives in Taguig, Philippines.
As the leaves touched the ground,
I watched how they became docile
Servants, surrendering gracefully.
This is the first time I inhaled
The presence of sadness in
My being that I almost fainted.
These leaves taught me to
Submit to sadness but I am firm
To plunge myself in bliss.
My sense of touch failed me
For I could not feel the warmth
Of the sun as it embraced.
April Mae M. Berza is the author of Confession ng isang Bob Ong fan (Flipside, 2014). She is a member of the Poetic Genius Society. Her poems and short stories appeared in numerous publications in the US, Canada, UK, Romania, India, Japan and the Philippines. Some of her poems are published in Poetica, The Manila Times and Contemporary Verse 2, to name a few. Her poem "E-Martial Law" was broadcast on IndoPacific Radio on KPFA 94.1FM/kpfa.org. She lives in Taguig, Philippines.
Haiku--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States
blind date
call of a distant train
our loneliness
_______________
oddly enough
loneliness
as refuge
_______________
widowed neighbor
gospel songs as she
washes her car
_______________
attractive neighbor
rebuilding her
Harley trike
_______________
ayaz daryl nielsen is a husband, father, veteran, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/120+ issues), homes include Lilliput Review, Jellyfish, Whispers, Shamrock, and! bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com (translates as joie de vivre)
call of a distant train
our loneliness
_______________
oddly enough
loneliness
as refuge
_______________
widowed neighbor
gospel songs as she
washes her car
_______________
attractive neighbor
rebuilding her
Harley trike
_______________
ayaz daryl nielsen is a husband, father, veteran, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/120+ issues), homes include Lilliput Review, Jellyfish, Whispers, Shamrock, and! bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com (translates as joie de vivre)
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Long Live Love--By Anna-Marie Docherty--Wales
Long Live Love
A toss of the head
A flick of her hair
The wave of her hand
As her beauty did flare
Her bountiful step
The spring in her stride
Her laugh as we waked
Hand in hand through the tide
Her mouth with its smile
As we wrote in the sand
Her cries of frustration
As sea coated the land
Those little I love yous
Meant so much back then
That on annual vacations
We repeat them again
For least we forget
In the daily ado
Our marital vows
Mean forever I do
Anna-Marie Docherty lives in Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK and is often inspired by nature and the world around her. Having been writing poetry now for 4 - 5 years, her works have developed in structure and form as well as using free verse in her writing as she walks this endless art form and creativity in her thirst to further learn. Letting the pen and the muse dictate topic and form both humour, religion, nature or the serious subject might be touched upon therefore keeping the writing fresh and easy to read by those who follow. Writing both as given name above and pen name anaisnais through the net, examples of poems can be found both in Snippets, an anthology of short verse by various international poets, compiled by Karen O'Leary and Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson; also Pink Panther magazine, an anthology written by several poets and artists on feminist issues in our environment and various poems on the internet for taster.
A toss of the head
A flick of her hair
The wave of her hand
As her beauty did flare
Her bountiful step
The spring in her stride
Her laugh as we waked
Hand in hand through the tide
Her mouth with its smile
As we wrote in the sand
Her cries of frustration
As sea coated the land
Those little I love yous
Meant so much back then
That on annual vacations
We repeat them again
For least we forget
In the daily ado
Our marital vows
Mean forever I do
Anna-Marie Docherty lives in Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK and is often inspired by nature and the world around her. Having been writing poetry now for 4 - 5 years, her works have developed in structure and form as well as using free verse in her writing as she walks this endless art form and creativity in her thirst to further learn. Letting the pen and the muse dictate topic and form both humour, religion, nature or the serious subject might be touched upon therefore keeping the writing fresh and easy to read by those who follow. Writing both as given name above and pen name anaisnais through the net, examples of poems can be found both in Snippets, an anthology of short verse by various international poets, compiled by Karen O'Leary and Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson; also Pink Panther magazine, an anthology written by several poets and artists on feminist issues in our environment and various poems on the internet for taster.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Elly Wouterse--Netherlands and Victoria Anderson Throop--Alaska, United States
Triptych of an Iceberg*
*(parts two and three)--see February 24 for part one
By Elly Wouterse and Victoria Anderson Throop
Base of an iceberg
below
frigid tides babbling
or rageous surfaces
spheres of secrecy
hidden in a womb
glaciated mass
transparent solid grounds
dangerous crystal shards
possibly murderous
deadly seductive
for those travelers
daring the frozen or defrosted sea
*********************
Trace of an iceberg
arctic summer
illuminates
briefly
crystal clear
formerly free air
imprisoned
in the radiant midst
of ice
floating fog
wrapped towards nothing
rare rays
or liberating daylight
die an icy death
in the dark depths
beneath the white nights
*(parts two and three)--see February 24 for part one
By Elly Wouterse and Victoria Anderson Throop
Base of an iceberg
below
frigid tides babbling
or rageous surfaces
spheres of secrecy
hidden in a womb
glaciated mass
transparent solid grounds
dangerous crystal shards
possibly murderous
deadly seductive
for those travelers
daring the frozen or defrosted sea
*********************
Trace of an iceberg
arctic summer
illuminates
briefly
crystal clear
formerly free air
imprisoned
in the radiant midst
of ice
floating fog
wrapped towards nothing
rare rays
or liberating daylight
die an icy death
in the dark depths
beneath the white nights
Spring in the Smokies--By Tom Davis--United States
Spring in the Smokies
Spring rains soak
the Smokies,
swelling the Tuckasegee.
An ancient sycamore
leans like the Tower of Pisa
from the river’s bank.
Soon, huge green leaves will unfurl.
How long can its roots
hold fast against its weight?
Only Mother Nature
and the tree knows for sure,
and they aren’t talking.
In his younger years, Tom Davis served as a Special Force Combat Diver. It seems to him that he spent more time on, in, and under the water than as a landlubber. This and other adventures he has written about in his memoir, The Most Fun I Ever Had With My Clothes On: A March From Private to Colonel. http://www.oldmp.com/davismemoirs
Spring rains soak
the Smokies,
swelling the Tuckasegee.
An ancient sycamore
leans like the Tower of Pisa
from the river’s bank.
Soon, huge green leaves will unfurl.
How long can its roots
hold fast against its weight?
Only Mother Nature
and the tree knows for sure,
and they aren’t talking.
In his younger years, Tom Davis served as a Special Force Combat Diver. It seems to him that he spent more time on, in, and under the water than as a landlubber. This and other adventures he has written about in his memoir, The Most Fun I Ever Had With My Clothes On: A March From Private to Colonel. http://www.oldmp.com/davismemoirs
Monday, March 2, 2015
Haiku--By Anne Curran--New Zealand
shaking mud
from my boots ...
a journey home
_______________
an empty hearse
behind the hospital ...
afternoon shadows
_______________
a man alone
on a porch ...
smoke unfurling
a man alone: Bones 1 (online), 2012
_______________
voices of India
from a kitchen window
smell of curry
voices of India: Valley MicroPress, 2011
_______________
she describes
her abstract art ...
sky of pink splashes
FreeXpresSion, November 2014
_______________
Anne Curran is a Japanese verse forms poet from Hamilton, New Zealand. Anne has been writing poetry for about ten years with the encouragement of friends and family. She draws inspiration from the world around her. She has been fortunate to enjoy the wisdom of some fine editors and fellow poets.
from my boots ...
a journey home
_______________
an empty hearse
behind the hospital ...
afternoon shadows
_______________
a man alone
on a porch ...
smoke unfurling
a man alone: Bones 1 (online), 2012
_______________
voices of India
from a kitchen window
smell of curry
voices of India: Valley MicroPress, 2011
_______________
she describes
her abstract art ...
sky of pink splashes
FreeXpresSion, November 2014
_______________
Anne Curran is a Japanese verse forms poet from Hamilton, New Zealand. Anne has been writing poetry for about ten years with the encouragement of friends and family. She draws inspiration from the world around her. She has been fortunate to enjoy the wisdom of some fine editors and fellow poets.
Sunset/Sunrise--By Christine Tate--United States
Sunset/Sunrise
Soon the sun will bow it's head
and close its sleepy eyes
behind a cloak of darkness
until it's called to rise.
I watch as dusk breaks thru
the magenta painted sky
as God's dazzling sphere
beams its last good-bye.
The drowsy sky is yawning
as the colors fade away
until the golden sun appears
to illuminate the day.
nighttime creates shadows
and eerie forms take shape,
as the moon casts its glow
upon the still landscape.
With His heavenly palette
God delights our eyes
with the vibrant shades
of His sunset and sunrise.
Christine Tate has been writing since 1994. She's the mother of 3 sons and has 8 grandchildren. She was widowed in 2007 and met her husband Artie, a widower with 6 children & 12 grandchildren, in a nursing facility where their mothers resided. They've been happily married 4 1/2 years. They describe their meeting as "God's divine appt." because of their faith, and the fact that they swore they'd never marry again.
Soon the sun will bow it's head
and close its sleepy eyes
behind a cloak of darkness
until it's called to rise.
I watch as dusk breaks thru
the magenta painted sky
as God's dazzling sphere
beams its last good-bye.
The drowsy sky is yawning
as the colors fade away
until the golden sun appears
to illuminate the day.
nighttime creates shadows
and eerie forms take shape,
as the moon casts its glow
upon the still landscape.
With His heavenly palette
God delights our eyes
with the vibrant shades
of His sunset and sunrise.
Christine Tate has been writing since 1994. She's the mother of 3 sons and has 8 grandchildren. She was widowed in 2007 and met her husband Artie, a widower with 6 children & 12 grandchildren, in a nursing facility where their mothers resided. They've been happily married 4 1/2 years. They describe their meeting as "God's divine appt." because of their faith, and the fact that they swore they'd never marry again.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Butterflies In Heaven--By Ndaba Sibanda--Saudi Arabia
Butterflies In Heaven
In bloom
Those flowers are a beauty
Their fragrance a magnet
Resplendent in nature
------Colourful-------
They lure butterflies
And hummingbirds
Flowers twinkle and wilt
Into a scented paradise
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".
In bloom
Those flowers are a beauty
Their fragrance a magnet
Resplendent in nature
------Colourful-------
They lure butterflies
And hummingbirds
Flowers twinkle and wilt
Into a scented paradise
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".
Weary--By Dan Tharp--United States
Weary
They say love covers
a multitude of sins...
I can only hope the little
I have loved will be sufficient enough
to cover the transgressions of my youth
and my middle aged complacency
where I reside in moments of conformity when
I grow weary of resistance.
Dan Tharp is the author of four books of poetry, 3 of which are in chapbook form... Side by Side, Yielding Desire to Fate, A Season Made for Wondering and A Rose in the Briar Patch. Dan resides in Southern California.
They say love covers
a multitude of sins...
I can only hope the little
I have loved will be sufficient enough
to cover the transgressions of my youth
and my middle aged complacency
where I reside in moments of conformity when
I grow weary of resistance.
Dan Tharp is the author of four books of poetry, 3 of which are in chapbook form... Side by Side, Yielding Desire to Fate, A Season Made for Wondering and A Rose in the Briar Patch. Dan resides in Southern California.
MARCH ANNOUNCEMENTS/PUBLICATION OPPORTUNITIES
NEW CONTRIBUTORS IN FEBRUARY
Alan McAlpine Douglas--United Kingdom
Miriam Sagan--United States
Pat Durmon--United States
Paresh Tiwari--India
Jan Allison--United Kingdom
Victoria Anderson Throop--Alaska, United States
Annie Jenkin--England
Nicole Neal--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, Ireland, Israel, Malawi, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Tunisia, 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.
Note--Ads due for April column by March 25
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Creative Inspirations is proud to offer another opportunity in celebration of the upcoming Mother's Day holiday. The chapbook will consist of roughly 15 poems by 15 gifted poets and also consists of a nice cardstock cover and envelope for the chapbook. The price is $8.00 per chapbook. Please make check or money order out (per how many copies) to: To God be the Glory! Publications and mail to: To God be the Glory! Publications - P.O. Box 19051 - Kalamazoo, MI 49019. To ensure accurate and timely delivery, all orders must be received by Friday April 17, 2015. For more information please contact MJ at: www.tgbtgpublications.com.
Pijush Kanti Deb released a poetry collection, Beneath the Shadow of a White Pigeon,
published by The Hollow Publishing. More information about the book is available at, http://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Shadow-White-Pigeon-Pijush/dp/1505854113/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422829526&sr=8-1&keywords=beneath+the+shadow+of+a+white+pigeon
Marianne Szlyk has released a new chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia Looking Up at Trees at Heaven, through Kind of a Hurricane Press' Barometric Pressures Authors Series. You may download the chapbook for free at this site: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html Thank you.
John Swain released his first collection of poetry, Ring the Sycamore Sky. Ordering information and reviews are available from Red Paint Hill Publishing at http://redpainthill.com/ring-the-sycamore-sky.php
Celine Rose Mariotti has a new mystery/detective book called Minister’s Shoes in which Rev. Castle helps Sada Sampson find her husband and he also proves that Trevor is innocent of killing Cartwright. The story involves casino deals, infidelity, gambling and some big town gossips who are knee deep in the casino deals. Price of book is: $11.00. If you live in CT, sales tax is 6.35 so price would be $11.70. Postage is $2.70. You can order from Amazon or you can order from me: celinem@aol.com
Peter Dome released his first book of poetry called Love, Life and Inspiration, a collection of poems written from the heart. It is suitable for everyone with a wide range of topics including, nature, wisdom and spirituality. Peter hopes his book will bring a lot of pleasure to others. It is available at Lulu.com.
Maureen Sudlow has a poetry book, Antipodes, was released in early December. More information available on her website www.kiwis-soar.com
Maralee Gerke has published a new book of poetry called A New Lexicon. If you are interested please ask for more information at mgerke@crestviewcable.com
Shloka Shankar has a poetry page on Facebook called 'Shloka Shankar: a rasika's musings'. To read more of her poems, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shloka-Shankar-a-rasikas-musings/745965042120215?ref_type=bookmark
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
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 Jokester and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
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.
ayaz daryl nielsen's print publication bear creek haiku is always open for postal submissions, mail poetry to bear creek haiku, po box 3787, boulder, co, 80307, USA, 11 lines and less, include SASE. Can be contacted at darylayaz@me.com, blog site is bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com.
Tom Davis, publisher of Old Mountain Press, invites all to review his eBook site (Kindle and NOOK) where numerous Old Mountain Press Anthologies of poetry and prose are listed see: Self-publish an electronic book e-book with Old Mountain Press. Visit Old Mountain Press' eBook site at http://www.oldmp.com/e-book
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. joker31277@yahoo.com
David Fox is seeking family-friendly poems for his magazine, The Poet's Art. Rates for the publication are $5 an issue or $20 for a 4 issue subscription. Checks should be made to cash. Foreign contributors should pay $10 by international money order or American cash only. Send submissions and money for subscriptions to David Fox,171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia, NY 11749 USA.
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.
Alan McAlpine Douglas--United Kingdom
Miriam Sagan--United States
Pat Durmon--United States
Paresh Tiwari--India
Jan Allison--United Kingdom
Victoria Anderson Throop--Alaska, United States
Annie Jenkin--England
Nicole Neal--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, Ireland, Israel, Malawi, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Portugal, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Tunisia, 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.
Note--Ads due for April column by March 25
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Creative Inspirations is proud to offer another opportunity in celebration of the upcoming Mother's Day holiday. The chapbook will consist of roughly 15 poems by 15 gifted poets and also consists of a nice cardstock cover and envelope for the chapbook. The price is $8.00 per chapbook. Please make check or money order out (per how many copies) to: To God be the Glory! Publications and mail to: To God be the Glory! Publications - P.O. Box 19051 - Kalamazoo, MI 49019. To ensure accurate and timely delivery, all orders must be received by Friday April 17, 2015. For more information please contact MJ at: www.tgbtgpublications.com.
Pijush Kanti Deb released a poetry collection, Beneath the Shadow of a White Pigeon,
published by The Hollow Publishing. More information about the book is available at, http://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Shadow-White-Pigeon-Pijush/dp/1505854113/ref=sr_1_1_twi_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422829526&sr=8-1&keywords=beneath+the+shadow+of+a+white+pigeon
Marianne Szlyk has released a new chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia Looking Up at Trees at Heaven, through Kind of a Hurricane Press' Barometric Pressures Authors Series. You may download the chapbook for free at this site: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html Thank you.
John Swain released his first collection of poetry, Ring the Sycamore Sky. Ordering information and reviews are available from Red Paint Hill Publishing at http://redpainthill.com/ring-the-sycamore-sky.php
Celine Rose Mariotti has a new mystery/detective book called Minister’s Shoes in which Rev. Castle helps Sada Sampson find her husband and he also proves that Trevor is innocent of killing Cartwright. The story involves casino deals, infidelity, gambling and some big town gossips who are knee deep in the casino deals. Price of book is: $11.00. If you live in CT, sales tax is 6.35 so price would be $11.70. Postage is $2.70. You can order from Amazon or you can order from me: celinem@aol.com
Peter Dome released his first book of poetry called Love, Life and Inspiration, a collection of poems written from the heart. It is suitable for everyone with a wide range of topics including, nature, wisdom and spirituality. Peter hopes his book will bring a lot of pleasure to others. It is available at Lulu.com.
Maureen Sudlow has a poetry book, Antipodes, was released in early December. More information available on her website www.kiwis-soar.com
Maralee Gerke has published a new book of poetry called A New Lexicon. If you are interested please ask for more information at mgerke@crestviewcable.com
Shloka Shankar has a poetry page on Facebook called 'Shloka Shankar: a rasika's musings'. To read more of her poems, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shloka-Shankar-a-rasikas-musings/745965042120215?ref_type=bookmark
Lisa DeVinney has a website for her devotional poetry called Lifting My Eyes, at liftingmyeyes.com
Karen O’Leary released Whispers, her first book of poetry in 2011, published by APF Publisher. It has been getting good reviews and is available at online at www.lulu.com (Search Whispers under Karen O'Leary) or contact Karen at gksm@cableone.net
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 Jokester and Creative Inspirations by sending stamps or other small donations to help with postage. Thank you for considering this. ---Karen
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.
ayaz daryl nielsen's print publication bear creek haiku is always open for postal submissions, mail poetry to bear creek haiku, po box 3787, boulder, co, 80307, USA, 11 lines and less, include SASE. Can be contacted at darylayaz@me.com, blog site is bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com.
Tom Davis, publisher of Old Mountain Press, invites all to review his eBook site (Kindle and NOOK) where numerous Old Mountain Press Anthologies of poetry and prose are listed see: Self-publish an electronic book e-book with Old Mountain Press. Visit Old Mountain Press' eBook site at http://www.oldmp.com/e-book
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. joker31277@yahoo.com
David Fox is seeking family-friendly poems for his magazine, The Poet's Art. Rates for the publication are $5 an issue or $20 for a 4 issue subscription. Checks should be made to cash. Foreign contributors should pay $10 by international money order or American cash only. Send submissions and money for subscriptions to David Fox,171 Silverleaf Lane, Islandia, NY 11749 USA.
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.
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