Smile Catcher
By Lainey & Michael Todd
Comic relief class clown, what I aspire to be.
No pratfall too hard to take, stumble the aisle.
Take it to the limit? No limitations for me.
My chief purpose, that I might bring you a smile.
It's a challenge of sorts, at my risk and expense.
To find that funny bone, you must tickle and tease.
I will flop, jump and fall, to build sheer suspense,
Just securing your laugh, requires true expertise.
Some are receptive, even take me for granted at times.
While others pose a challenge, I can walk the extra mile.
Should I tell a funny story, anecdotes, perhaps rhymes?
Whatever it takes, I'm up to task, quite versatile.
The formula for making funny, is not easy, I admit.
If you overcook it, no laughs rise, you will just fall.
For comedy I stand up. If that's not funny, I just sit.
And when I'm sad, my humor is a mask that hides it all.
The reason for this road map? Simply a reminder to self,
As opposed to being a "how to do it" for the rank and file.
While I can't always be funny, I do my best to be top shelf.
Not in the mood today? Okay. Tomorrow, I'm still on the dial.
While I don't have great wealth, I want so much to amuse.
A gift of laughter makes me feel much more worthwhile.
At the end of the day, I proudly ponder on each bruise...
Especially ones gotten, as I tripped over a smile.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Spring at Last--By David Austin--United States
Spring at Last
spring
with snow
on the ground
what shall i wear
it’s fifty outside
not a cloud anywhere
the sky is two shades brighter
i feel just short of wonderful
and the forecast is “continued fair”
what shall i wear why a big smile of course
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
spring
with snow
on the ground
what shall i wear
it’s fifty outside
not a cloud anywhere
the sky is two shades brighter
i feel just short of wonderful
and the forecast is “continued fair”
what shall i wear why a big smile of course
David Austin is professional violinist and teacher, who communicates through poetry. He has played with the Cincinnati Symphony, taught at Colorado College and various public schools. He is a published author, who has been writing poetry and novels for over 40 years. His pride and joy is a shelter in which he feeds and cares for animals. David is a member of Poetry Soup.
Tanka--By Elizabeth Howard--United States
clusters of red poppies
climb the hills
from Rome to Florence
prelude to other chefs-d’oeuvre
the David and the PietÃ
a bunny clown hopping
on a pogo stick
his big ears flopping . . .
the sick children laugh
for the first time today
those towering hills
gray and silent--
once periwinkle blue
they rang morn and e'en
with your yodeling joy
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.
climb the hills
from Rome to Florence
prelude to other chefs-d’oeuvre
the David and the PietÃ
a bunny clown hopping
on a pogo stick
his big ears flopping . . .
the sick children laugh
for the first time today
those towering hills
gray and silent--
once periwinkle blue
they rang morn and e'en
with your yodeling joy
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Haiku/Senryu--By Shloka Shankar--India
job listings
swatting flies above
my head
_______________
face mask
mother peels years
off her skin
_______________
sleepless I whistle through my nose
_______________
hanging
from a gossamer...
moth wing
_______________
one-third of my past soars on Garuda's wing
_______________
Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer residing in India. Her work appears in over two dozen international anthologies including publications by Paragram, Silver Birch Press, Minor Arcana Press, Harbinger Asylum, Kind of a Hurricane Press and Writing Knights Press among others. Her poems, erasures, haiku & tanka have appeared in numerous print and online journals. She is also the editor of the literary and arts journal, Sonic Boom.
swatting flies above
my head
_______________
face mask
mother peels years
off her skin
_______________
sleepless I whistle through my nose
_______________
hanging
from a gossamer...
moth wing
_______________
one-third of my past soars on Garuda's wing
_______________
Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer residing in India. Her work appears in over two dozen international anthologies including publications by Paragram, Silver Birch Press, Minor Arcana Press, Harbinger Asylum, Kind of a Hurricane Press and Writing Knights Press among others. Her poems, erasures, haiku & tanka have appeared in numerous print and online journals. She is also the editor of the literary and arts journal, Sonic Boom.
Summer Sunset--By Robert L. Hinshaw--United States
Summer Sunset
Summer sunsets o'er majestic Pikes Peak are a wonder to behold.
Unequaled hues gild the western sky in flaming red and gold!
Mere artists will never portray on canvas such a glorious sight.
Magnificent ivory clouds enhance the scene much to my delight!
Embellishing this exquisite panorama with colors all aglow,
Reminds me of the bright hues in paintings by van Gogh!
Soon the sun will sink beyond the towering tors of Pikes Peak.
Ushered in is a mellow moon to make the ebon night less bleak!
Nary a sunset gracing the elegant form of Mount Kilimanjaro,
Shall compare to the painting in the sky that I'll view tomorrow!
Even though famed artists have created masterpieces in the past,
The brush strokes of The Master Artist will never be surpassed!
Robert L. Hinshaw served 30 years in the Air Force retiring in 1978 in the grade of Chief Master Sergeant. He began writing poetry in 2002 at age 72 and has composed over 1100 poems.
Summer sunsets o'er majestic Pikes Peak are a wonder to behold.
Unequaled hues gild the western sky in flaming red and gold!
Mere artists will never portray on canvas such a glorious sight.
Magnificent ivory clouds enhance the scene much to my delight!
Embellishing this exquisite panorama with colors all aglow,
Reminds me of the bright hues in paintings by van Gogh!
Soon the sun will sink beyond the towering tors of Pikes Peak.
Ushered in is a mellow moon to make the ebon night less bleak!
Nary a sunset gracing the elegant form of Mount Kilimanjaro,
Shall compare to the painting in the sky that I'll view tomorrow!
Even though famed artists have created masterpieces in the past,
The brush strokes of The Master Artist will never be surpassed!
Robert L. Hinshaw served 30 years in the Air Force retiring in 1978 in the grade of Chief Master Sergeant. He began writing poetry in 2002 at age 72 and has composed over 1100 poems.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Imagination--Suzanne Delaney--United States
Imagination
This page of botanical images
in sepia, depict the petals, veins, leaves
of exotic plants. Listed alphabetically are illustrations
with a reader's favorites marked with string;
carefully indexed, scientific, dun-drab
they conceal the dream of translucent petals,
leaves that reflect light, adaptive roots. In idle fancy
an apparition of beauty unfolds
upright from the page.
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. A resident of Hawaii, USA she was born in Tasmania. She now has time to pursue her passion for writing poetry, creating collages and for traveling.
This page of botanical images
in sepia, depict the petals, veins, leaves
of exotic plants. Listed alphabetically are illustrations
with a reader's favorites marked with string;
carefully indexed, scientific, dun-drab
they conceal the dream of translucent petals,
leaves that reflect light, adaptive roots. In idle fancy
an apparition of beauty unfolds
upright from the page.
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. A resident of Hawaii, USA she was born in Tasmania. She now has time to pursue her passion for writing poetry, creating collages and for traveling.
Musically Speaking--By d. n. simmers--Canada
Musically Speaking
After Wallace Stevens
This is not about a blue guitar.
But a blues guitar.
Where hands of my brother's friend
were on it in his basement suite playing Angie.
And his wife to be up here from California.
It is ebony and pearl inlaid.
But like Wallace and his 13 blackbirds.
this is another view after Steve moved away and
sold his guitar to my brother.
Blues licks for years
playing the sounds from my brother's home.
And as the years fast forward into the mist--
My brother's ghost is still with me as I pick
up his guitar and move down the frets.
As if his hands and the people
before him are playing.
Playing for me again
against the cold days and nights
that fade into memories.
d. n. simmers is an on line editor with Fine Lines. He is in will be in Poetry Salzburg Review, the Storyteller, Iconoclast, Plainsongs, California Quarterly, Poets Touchstone, Bluestem, and Nomad's Choir. He is on line in poetrymag.com, red river review, new american digital, storyacious, and word press. He is in an newly launched anthology Royal City Poets ( 4) and was in Van Gogh's Ear, Paris France.
After Wallace Stevens
This is not about a blue guitar.
But a blues guitar.
Where hands of my brother's friend
were on it in his basement suite playing Angie.
And his wife to be up here from California.
It is ebony and pearl inlaid.
But like Wallace and his 13 blackbirds.
this is another view after Steve moved away and
sold his guitar to my brother.
Blues licks for years
playing the sounds from my brother's home.
And as the years fast forward into the mist--
My brother's ghost is still with me as I pick
up his guitar and move down the frets.
As if his hands and the people
before him are playing.
Playing for me again
against the cold days and nights
that fade into memories.
d. n. simmers is an on line editor with Fine Lines. He is in will be in Poetry Salzburg Review, the Storyteller, Iconoclast, Plainsongs, California Quarterly, Poets Touchstone, Bluestem, and Nomad's Choir. He is on line in poetrymag.com, red river review, new american digital, storyacious, and word press. He is in an newly launched anthology Royal City Poets ( 4) and was in Van Gogh's Ear, Paris France.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Haiku--By Robert Epstein--United States
through the night
and into New Year’s
their baby talk
_______________
winter
fog
how
old
the
new
car
looks
_______________
bedridden
my niece wants her own
Milky Way
_______________
January wind
listening for
cherry blossoms
_______________
not a peep
from the cricket hopping
through my bedroom
_______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. His most current anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, was released in 2014.
and into New Year’s
their baby talk
_______________
winter
fog
how
old
the
new
car
looks
_______________
bedridden
my niece wants her own
Milky Way
_______________
January wind
listening for
cherry blossoms
_______________
not a peep
from the cricket hopping
through my bedroom
_______________
Robert Epstein is a licensed psychologist who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. He has edited several anthologies: The Breath of Surrender: A Collection of Recovery-Oriented Haiku; Dreams Wander On: Contemporary Poems of Death Awareness; and The Temple Bell Stops: Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change; as well as two books of haiku: Checkout Time is Noon: Death Awareness Haiku; and A Walk Around Spring Lake: Haiku. His most current anthology, The Sacred in Contemporary Haiku, was released in 2014.
Thy Kingdom Come--By Marcus Omer--United States
Thy Kingdom Come
Hasten that day when I no longer sigh,
about a world gone terribly awry.
Bring forth that day when there's true peace within;
when man no more wonders what might have been.
All will be cleansed from dishonor and stains,
for evil is bound in darkness and chains.
From country to country is found no hate,
each city then stands with an open gate.
The vanities of man erased from the soul,
for egos and lust no longer control.
Each home will contain a husband and wife;
the child not witness to fighting and strife.
Joy replaces sorrow; no one will cry,
for only then, will I no longer sigh.....
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
Hasten that day when I no longer sigh,
about a world gone terribly awry.
Bring forth that day when there's true peace within;
when man no more wonders what might have been.
All will be cleansed from dishonor and stains,
for evil is bound in darkness and chains.
From country to country is found no hate,
each city then stands with an open gate.
The vanities of man erased from the soul,
for egos and lust no longer control.
Each home will contain a husband and wife;
the child not witness to fighting and strife.
Joy replaces sorrow; no one will cry,
for only then, will I no longer sigh.....
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
An Ascending Ambition--By Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson--Canary Islands
An Ascending Ambition
(Take a Letter)
Almighty Father you’re the one
Above whom I worship and adore
Always I pray that you will be
Amid my family in complete
Adoration
Assurance please give them
Aide them everyday so they
Adjust to things around them
As they make walking to you their
Ambition
Accomplishing the things in life
Admirably as they learn to be
Attentive to others needs
Agreeing if they disagree
Acceptance
Activate love in their hearts
Affection for all on Earth
Animals on land and sea
Adorable birds that fly in the air
Ascending
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s daughter, the only girl among 6 lads.
A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18. Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters. Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents. After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently. She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.
(Take a Letter)
Almighty Father you’re the one
Above whom I worship and adore
Always I pray that you will be
Amid my family in complete
Adoration
Assurance please give them
Aide them everyday so they
Adjust to things around them
As they make walking to you their
Ambition
Accomplishing the things in life
Admirably as they learn to be
Attentive to others needs
Agreeing if they disagree
Acceptance
Activate love in their hearts
Affection for all on Earth
Animals on land and sea
Adorable birds that fly in the air
Ascending
Patricia Ann Farnsworth-Simpson is a coal miner’s daughter, the only girl among 6 lads.
A young mother to a son, she became a widow before she turned 18. Patricia, then, married her childhood sweetheart who fathered her lovely son and two wonderful daughters. Her children encouraged her to pursue her own talents. After 51 years of marriage, she became a widow again recently. She fills her time with poetry, helping others whenever she can.
Considerations--By Joann Grisetti--United States
Considerations
the laughter and joys of childhood,
ancient and distantly met
what does it take to remember?
what does it take to forget?
all of the trials of childhood
become lamented regrets.
how long before I remember?
how long before I forget?
little hands searching for safety
tiny lungs grasping for air
when can I never remember?
when can I ever forget?
small bare feet running and running
asea in deception’s lair
where does one go to remember?
where does one go to forget?
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
the laughter and joys of childhood,
ancient and distantly met
what does it take to remember?
what does it take to forget?
all of the trials of childhood
become lamented regrets.
how long before I remember?
how long before I forget?
little hands searching for safety
tiny lungs grasping for air
when can I never remember?
when can I ever forget?
small bare feet running and running
asea in deception’s lair
where does one go to remember?
where does one go to forget?
Joann Grisetti has been writing for 45 years. She is a retired teacher from Florida. She receives encouragement from her daughter and has recently enrolled in a creative writing workshop. She is a member of Poetry Soup. You can read more of her poetry there.
Friday, March 20, 2015
WHISPERS' SPECIAL ACITIVITY--FORM--THE BREVETTE
The Brevette is a minimalist poem
composed of only three words developed by Emily Romano. Shadow Poetry defines
the form as one that “consists of a subject (noun), verb, and object (noun), in
this exact order. The verb should show ongoing action. This is done by spacing
out the letters in the verb… Each of the three words may have any number of
syllables, but it is desirable that the poem have balance…”
Though it may seem simple on the surface, the Brevette is not just three words tossed together. For me, the verb is the key in that it should convey some outgrowth or process reaching beyond just a moment.
Though it may seem simple on the surface, the Brevette is not just three words tossed together. For me, the verb is the key in that it should convey some outgrowth or process reaching beyond just a moment.
Thank you to all the writers that contributed to this collection. You are truly talented artists. It was a joy working with you.
--Karen O'Leary, Whispers' Editor
kindness charity
i n s p i r e s b r i n g s
love peace
By Sheri Stanley By Charlene McCutcheon
i n s p i r e s b r i n g s
love peace
By Sheri Stanley By Charlene McCutcheon
__________________________
b e g i n s { c a p t u r i n g }
mornings silence
By Joan McNerney By Robert P. Hansen
__________________________
barns flowers
s h e l t e r f o l d
horses fragrance
By Barbara Tate By Ranu Uniyal
__________________________
s h e l t e r f o l d
horses fragrance
By Barbara Tate By Ranu Uniyal
__________________________
laughter conscience
d r i e s s e e k i n g
tears solace
By Jack Horne By Ralph Stott
__________________________
d r i e s s e e k i n g
tears solace
By Jack Horne By Ralph Stott
__________________________
courage cold
b r e e d s p e n e t r a t e s
admiration clothing
By Beth Winchcombe By Jean Calkins __________________________
b r e e d s p e n e t r a t e s
admiration clothing
By Beth Winchcombe By Jean Calkins __________________________
friends faucets
c e l e b r a t e d r i p p i n g
friends droplets
By Peggy Dugan French By Robert A. Dufresne
__________________________
c e l e b r a t e d r i p p i n g
friends droplets
By Peggy Dugan French By Robert A. Dufresne
__________________________
angles ice-storms
s t r e t c h t o p p l e
circles cedars
By David Williams By Elizabeth Howard
__________________________
s t r e t c h t o p p l e
circles cedars
By David Williams By Elizabeth Howard
__________________________
birds evil
s i n g h a s
spring! choices
By Kelley J. White By Arthur C. Ford, Sr. __________________________
i n s p i r e s g i v e s
life life
By Karen O’Leary By Sara Kendrick
__________________________
peace Buds
b r i n g s B e c o m i n g
harmony Blooms
By David Fox By Maralee Gerke
__________________________
hands lava
e n c i r c l e s e a r i n g
hearts valleys
By Peggy Dugan French By Robert A. Dufresne __________________________
language flowers
bre l i n e
aks highways
barriers
By Robert P. Hansen By Joan McNerney
__________________________
whispers injection
d i s c l o s e s t a r t l e s
secrets eyeball
By Barbara Tate By Jean Calkins __________________________
letters trees
r a d i a t e r e a c h i n g
warmth birds
By Ranu Uniyal By Ralph Stott __________________________
love glaciers
s m o t h e r s e t c h i n g
hate landscapes
By Sheri Stanley By Robert A. Dufresne
__________________________
adversity mammograms
p r o d u c e s s a v e
challenges lives
By Elizabeth Howard By Sara Kendrick __________________________
puppy children
b r e a t h e s d e v o u r
love cookies
By Barbara Tate By Joan McNerney
__________________________
e x t i n g u i s h e s a c c o m o d a t e
cigarette lazybones
By Ralph Stott By Elizabeth Howard
__________________________
friendship sadness
s b u i l d s
e soul
e
k By Sheri Stanley
i
n
g
love
By Robert P. Hansen
Optimist Prime--By Cristine A. Gruber--United States
Optimist Prime
The Ultimate Transformer
She stilled
the baby’s tears,
got the toddler to smile,
and the parents to laugh out loud.
I watched
enthralled as she transformed the room
with her positive view
on life, living,
and love.
Cristine A. Gruber writes from sunny, Southern California. She has had work featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, The Homestead Review, Red River Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from http://buybooksontheweb.com. More of Cristine’s work can be found and enjoyed at http://sierraviewjournal.blogspot.com/
The Ultimate Transformer
She stilled
the baby’s tears,
got the toddler to smile,
and the parents to laugh out loud.
I watched
enthralled as she transformed the room
with her positive view
on life, living,
and love.
Cristine A. Gruber writes from sunny, Southern California. She has had work featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, The Homestead Review, Red River Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from http://buybooksontheweb.com. More of Cristine’s work can be found and enjoyed at http://sierraviewjournal.blogspot.com/
Insignificant--By Peter Dome--United Kingdom
Insignificant
A tiny grain of sand in a endless desert
A single tear drop in a vast deep sea
A speck of dust in a whirlwind
A small candle flickering in a large city
A star so faraway in an unknown galaxy
A single second gone by in a thousand years
Symbolizes the loneliness I feel
Within me.
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
A tiny grain of sand in a endless desert
A single tear drop in a vast deep sea
A speck of dust in a whirlwind
A small candle flickering in a large city
A star so faraway in an unknown galaxy
A single second gone by in a thousand years
Symbolizes the loneliness I feel
Within me.
Hi, my name is Pete. I live in Sheffield, U.K. I hope you enjoy my poems. I look forward to reading yours. My best wishes. Pete.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Hidden Beauty--By Andrea Dietrich--United States
Hidden Beauty
(a rondeau)
Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed a dismal shell. .
Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
Hidden beauty!
Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell
That strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
hidden beauty.
Andrea Dietrich grew up in Iowa and now resides in Utah with a spouse and two cats. She has two grown children and six grandchildren. Having graduated BYU with a Spanish major/ESL minor, she has spent most of her adult life teaching. It wasn't until 2000 that she began writing in earnest and discovering her "niche" as a writer of lyrical poetry. The internet opened up a new world for her, and she has spent nearly a decade now participating in poetry clubs, acting as a judge of poetry contests for various magazines and for the website Shadow Poetry.
(a rondeau)
Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed a dismal shell. .
Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
Hidden beauty!
Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell
That strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
hidden beauty.
Andrea Dietrich grew up in Iowa and now resides in Utah with a spouse and two cats. She has two grown children and six grandchildren. Having graduated BYU with a Spanish major/ESL minor, she has spent most of her adult life teaching. It wasn't until 2000 that she began writing in earnest and discovering her "niche" as a writer of lyrical poetry. The internet opened up a new world for her, and she has spent nearly a decade now participating in poetry clubs, acting as a judge of poetry contests for various magazines and for the website Shadow Poetry.
Material or Spiritual?--By Lanette Kissel--United States
Material or Spiritual?
We can choose to live in a material world
where we’re all about acquiring more stuff.
Such a choice will leave us feeling empty,
for that life will never be enough.
We could spend our money on the trappings
created to entice every woman and man.
Or we can help to extend God’s borders
and choose to offer Him the required ten.
Life shouldn’t be about what we’ve got,
but more about what we can give
that will help to further the cause for Christ,
so others can learn how to joyfully live.
We can choose to live in the spiritual world
with God the Father as our center,
and live according to His will,
having His Son, Jesus, as our Mentor.
Lanette Kissel lives in southern Indiana with her adopted Yorkie-Poo, Benjy. She enjoys writing Inspirational poetry, essays, articles, and some secular fiction. Her work has been published in small print publications and in online magazines. Some of her fiction has been published as e-books at Red Rose Publishing.
We can choose to live in a material world
where we’re all about acquiring more stuff.
Such a choice will leave us feeling empty,
for that life will never be enough.
We could spend our money on the trappings
created to entice every woman and man.
Or we can help to extend God’s borders
and choose to offer Him the required ten.
Life shouldn’t be about what we’ve got,
but more about what we can give
that will help to further the cause for Christ,
so others can learn how to joyfully live.
We can choose to live in the spiritual world
with God the Father as our center,
and live according to His will,
having His Son, Jesus, as our Mentor.
Lanette Kissel lives in southern Indiana with her adopted Yorkie-Poo, Benjy. She enjoys writing Inspirational poetry, essays, articles, and some secular fiction. Her work has been published in small print publications and in online magazines. Some of her fiction has been published as e-books at Red Rose Publishing.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Swells that Compel--By Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo--Philippines
Swells that Compel
the fall moon's lull shows
mystique silence across skies
branches shadow dance
rice seedling patch strewn
upon well-plough watered fields--
globular tummies
from my bikini
to quilted silk evening wraps--
chrysanthemum blooms
rainbow processions
passing through cities thru-fare--
church bells count the mass
Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo, 28 year-old from The Philippines, is a nurse by profession. Poetry writing is her new found hobby, since 2012. She is a member of Poetry Soup where she submits most of her poems. Her writing inspiration is driven by God, experiences and nature. She dreams of publishing a book someday.
the fall moon's lull shows
mystique silence across skies
branches shadow dance
rice seedling patch strewn
upon well-plough watered fields--
globular tummies
from my bikini
to quilted silk evening wraps--
chrysanthemum blooms
rainbow processions
passing through cities thru-fare--
church bells count the mass
Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo, 28 year-old from The Philippines, is a nurse by profession. Poetry writing is her new found hobby, since 2012. She is a member of Poetry Soup where she submits most of her poems. Her writing inspiration is driven by God, experiences and nature. She dreams of publishing a book someday.
Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Barbara Tate with Karen O’Leary--United States
Tan Renga
By Barbara Tate and Karen O’Leary
moment of truth
lost in transition...
a puzzled look
the wind blows
only one way
By Barbara Tate and Karen O’Leary
moment of truth
lost in transition...
a puzzled look
the wind blows
only one way
Always…--By Richard Carl Subber--United States
Always…
I
will
be your
trusted friend,
always care for you.
I
will
walk your
path in life,
always there for you.
I
will
feel your
joys and hurts,
always share with you.
Richard Carl Subber (Rick) is a freelance editor, a writing coach and an amateur historian. He’s a former newspaper reporter/editor who transferred his love of language to more satisfying expressions. Rick is a proud grandpa who is patiently teaching his granddaughter how to write, in case there is poetry in her future. His blogs are: http://barleyliterate.blogspot.com/ and http://historybottomlines.blogspot.com/
I
will
be your
trusted friend,
always care for you.
I
will
walk your
path in life,
always there for you.
I
will
feel your
joys and hurts,
always share with you.
Richard Carl Subber (Rick) is a freelance editor, a writing coach and an amateur historian. He’s a former newspaper reporter/editor who transferred his love of language to more satisfying expressions. Rick is a proud grandpa who is patiently teaching his granddaughter how to write, in case there is poetry in her future. His blogs are: http://barleyliterate.blogspot.com/ and http://historybottomlines.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Excerpt from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me--By Nila J. Webster--United States
Excerpt from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me
Thank you for
The color of joy
And the shape of love
For the shadows as dusk
For the mourning dove
Who coos in hours of gray
When life is sad
And we've lost our way
Thank you for life
And death
And life again
For the seed of hope
Born of each sad end
______________
This excerpt is from Nila J. Webster's picture book The Gift of You, The Gift of Me. She wrote the book in one sitting as a response in an incident of bullying, with the hope that honoring the beauty in nature, and in ourselves, will create a beautiful space where bullying will dissolve and be replaced by love and acceptance.
______________
Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 41,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net.
Thank you for
The color of joy
And the shape of love
For the shadows as dusk
For the mourning dove
Who coos in hours of gray
When life is sad
And we've lost our way
Thank you for life
And death
And life again
For the seed of hope
Born of each sad end
______________
This excerpt is from Nila J. Webster's picture book The Gift of You, The Gift of Me. She wrote the book in one sitting as a response in an incident of bullying, with the hope that honoring the beauty in nature, and in ourselves, will create a beautiful space where bullying will dissolve and be replaced by love and acceptance.
______________
Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 41,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at nila.webster@comcast.net.
Haiku--By Kelley White--United States
crickets
wind in a dozen kind of trees
the meeting house bell
_______________
fragrance of pine cones
spilled beneath the waterfall
darkening stones
_______________
grasshoppers buzzing
deep in the hay
song of a bird I do not know
_______________
leash tugging
as I stop to scrawl a poem
my little dog
_______________
leaves falling:
maple, birch, oak
the pine boughs rattling
_______________
Pediatrician Kelley White worked in inner city Philadelphia and now works in rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in journals including Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.
wind in a dozen kind of trees
the meeting house bell
_______________
fragrance of pine cones
spilled beneath the waterfall
darkening stones
_______________
grasshoppers buzzing
deep in the hay
song of a bird I do not know
_______________
leash tugging
as I stop to scrawl a poem
my little dog
_______________
leaves falling:
maple, birch, oak
the pine boughs rattling
_______________
Pediatrician Kelley White worked in inner city Philadelphia and now works in rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in journals including Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Abendbild/Evening Image--By Gert W. Knop--Germany
Abendbild (German)
Losgelöst,
im Schein der Abendsonne
ein purpurnes Band
Die Stille,
zeitlos,
nur Amselgeflüster
im nahem Gebüsch
Dann zaghaft
aus kleinen Wolken
ein sanfter Regen
und zartes Plätschern vom Fluss
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Evening Image (English)
Detached,
in the glow of the evening sun
a crimson ribbon
Silence,
timeless,
only the whisper of a Blackbird
in nearby bushes
Then timidly
out of small clouds
a tender rain
and gentle purling from the river
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.
Losgelöst,
im Schein der Abendsonne
ein purpurnes Band
Die Stille,
zeitlos,
nur Amselgeflüster
im nahem Gebüsch
Dann zaghaft
aus kleinen Wolken
ein sanfter Regen
und zartes Plätschern vom Fluss
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Evening Image (English)
Detached,
in the glow of the evening sun
a crimson ribbon
Silence,
timeless,
only the whisper of a Blackbird
in nearby bushes
Then timidly
out of small clouds
a tender rain
and gentle purling from the river
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 Morning After the Carnival…--By Marianne Szlyk--United States
Sunday Morning After the Carnival…
Thelma remembers
flying beside her husband
on the swing ride,
feeling like a jewel
in the night,
his jewel that she will place
around her neck
before she leaves alone.
Marianne Szlyk recently published her first chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, at Kind of a Hurricane Press: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html. Her poem "Walking Past Mt. Calvary Cemetery in Winter" was nominated for the 2014 Best of the Net. Her poems have appeared in print and online, most recently in Poppy Road Review, bird's thumb, Black Poppy Review, Of/with, Walking is Still Honest, and Literature Today as well as Kind of a Hurricane's anthologies. She edits a poetry blog-zine at http://thesongis.blogspot.com/ and hopes that you will consider submitting a poem there or voting in one of its contests.
Thelma remembers
flying beside her husband
on the swing ride,
feeling like a jewel
in the night,
his jewel that she will place
around her neck
before she leaves alone.
Marianne Szlyk recently published her first chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, at Kind of a Hurricane Press: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html. Her poem "Walking Past Mt. Calvary Cemetery in Winter" was nominated for the 2014 Best of the Net. Her poems have appeared in print and online, most recently in Poppy Road Review, bird's thumb, Black Poppy Review, Of/with, Walking is Still Honest, and Literature Today as well as Kind of a Hurricane's anthologies. She edits a poetry blog-zine at http://thesongis.blogspot.com/ and hopes that you will consider submitting a poem there or voting in one of its contests.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Pains Don't Rhyme--By Wabweka--Malawi
Pains Don't Rhyme
If I were a cheery choiceless poet
I would put my pen to paper
With sickening scrawls rhyming
Oozing with an arresting rhythm
Stanzas a feast for iron-fisted royals
Nourishing the hungry with fistfuls of nothing
Oiling lips of the dying with wet kisses
That none of them may ask why they suffer
But lose themselves in orgasmic sonnets, lullabies, limericks
Snoring in iambic pentameter of life towards dirges
Being a voiceless voice in a valley of wants
I put my pain to paper
Vent verses in ears sealed by seething sirens
Cry like those crushed by supersonic presidential motorcades
Wait like clappers dancing to roaring whirls in helipads
Thirsting for rhymes and chimes of torrid times?
Like silence, this pain does not rhyme
Wabweka is a Malawian journalist and protest poet writing to express himself differently. He holds a BA (Journalism) from the University of Malawi. He has worked with leading newspapers in the country that prides itself as ‘the warm heart of Africa. He believes poetry does not only mirror our world as it is today but also as we want it to be when his daughter Tiwonge grows up to think about her children and their children.
If I were a cheery choiceless poet
I would put my pen to paper
With sickening scrawls rhyming
Oozing with an arresting rhythm
Stanzas a feast for iron-fisted royals
Nourishing the hungry with fistfuls of nothing
Oiling lips of the dying with wet kisses
That none of them may ask why they suffer
But lose themselves in orgasmic sonnets, lullabies, limericks
Snoring in iambic pentameter of life towards dirges
Being a voiceless voice in a valley of wants
I put my pain to paper
Vent verses in ears sealed by seething sirens
Cry like those crushed by supersonic presidential motorcades
Wait like clappers dancing to roaring whirls in helipads
Thirsting for rhymes and chimes of torrid times?
Like silence, this pain does not rhyme
Wabweka is a Malawian journalist and protest poet writing to express himself differently. He holds a BA (Journalism) from the University of Malawi. He has worked with leading newspapers in the country that prides itself as ‘the warm heart of Africa. He believes poetry does not only mirror our world as it is today but also as we want it to be when his daughter Tiwonge grows up to think about her children and their children.
Poet of the Month--ayaz daryl nielsen
Otiose
By ayaz daryl nielsen
Often I go to the mountain
and lean against
quiet rock
quiet rocks that
rose from the earth
millions of years ago
Again, a black brim hat
for damp morning mist
a quiet rock
to lean against
beneath aspen leaves
among aster, columbine,
pasque and penstemon
Maybe there’s more I can do
beyond what I have willed
and may have accomplished
Resting beside quiet rock
that rose from the earth
millions of years ago
Plenty enough for this fine day.
______________
From the editor--It is an honor to announce that ayaz daryl nielsen is March’s Poet of the Month. A talented writer and the editor of bear creek haiku, ayaz’s poems are enjoyed by Whispers’ readers. He is an uplifting voice in our poetry community, leaving thoughtful comments that contributors appreciate. ayaz has promoted our online journal by advertising it at his website. He has also written collaborative poems and participated in Whispers’ activities. It is a pleasure to present him with this award.
______________
Thoughts on “Otiose ”--The poem starts out with an intriguing title that captured my interest. Titles are important as they have the ability to lure readers in. The relationship between the title and the repeated use of rock paces this poem in a cohesive way. The creative use of imagery adds life and unites the narrator to the place he or she finds rest. It is also interesting to ponder that this person is delving into thoughts and feels connected to events a million years ago. This is a fascinating piece.
______________
Congratulations and thank you ayaz! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
By ayaz daryl nielsen
Often I go to the mountain
and lean against
quiet rock
quiet rocks that
rose from the earth
millions of years ago
Again, a black brim hat
for damp morning mist
a quiet rock
to lean against
beneath aspen leaves
among aster, columbine,
pasque and penstemon
Maybe there’s more I can do
beyond what I have willed
and may have accomplished
Resting beside quiet rock
that rose from the earth
millions of years ago
Plenty enough for this fine day.
______________
From the editor--It is an honor to announce that ayaz daryl nielsen is March’s Poet of the Month. A talented writer and the editor of bear creek haiku, ayaz’s poems are enjoyed by Whispers’ readers. He is an uplifting voice in our poetry community, leaving thoughtful comments that contributors appreciate. ayaz has promoted our online journal by advertising it at his website. He has also written collaborative poems and participated in Whispers’ activities. It is a pleasure to present him with this award.
______________
Thoughts on “Otiose ”--The poem starts out with an intriguing title that captured my interest. Titles are important as they have the ability to lure readers in. The relationship between the title and the repeated use of rock paces this poem in a cohesive way. The creative use of imagery adds life and unites the narrator to the place he or she finds rest. It is also interesting to ponder that this person is delving into thoughts and feels connected to events a million years ago. This is a fascinating piece.
______________
Congratulations and thank you ayaz! I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.
Sincerely,
Karen O’Leary, Editor
Waiting for Spring--By Lisa DeVinney--United States
Waiting for Spring
The wind blows cold this mid-March day.
The birds have tucked their wings away
To wait until the signs of spring
Encourage them again to sing.
This winter’s grip seems strong and fierce,
With cold that bites and winds that pierce
Through bundled layers. Yet I know
That sun will long outlast the snow.
And soon enough the winds will change,
The atmosphere will rearrange.
Then on the wings of robins borne,
Spring will arrive, both wet and warm.
For God’s ordained the seasons, too.
Each one will come as it is due.
So as I wait for warmer days,
I’ll bundle up, and give God praise.
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at liftingmyeyes.com
The wind blows cold this mid-March day.
The birds have tucked their wings away
To wait until the signs of spring
Encourage them again to sing.
This winter’s grip seems strong and fierce,
With cold that bites and winds that pierce
Through bundled layers. Yet I know
That sun will long outlast the snow.
And soon enough the winds will change,
The atmosphere will rearrange.
Then on the wings of robins borne,
Spring will arrive, both wet and warm.
For God’s ordained the seasons, too.
Each one will come as it is due.
So as I wait for warmer days,
I’ll bundle up, and give God praise.
Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at liftingmyeyes.com
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Loved Ones--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand
Loved Ones
I see them walking around the streets
Disguised in simulated faces
Sometimes a bemused expression
Or rarely a thrusting laugh
And seldom quizzical eyes
I say hello to them in a whisper
They are unaware I know we are
All of each other.
In a hurry now as I see my
dead daughter's beautiful, happy look
her lips open as she smiles
to the man holding her arm.
Oh, it's all here, everywhere
In the office my son's gleaming intelligence
shimmering in the neon
just a flicker then it's gone
No need to wonder any more.
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.
I see them walking around the streets
Disguised in simulated faces
Sometimes a bemused expression
Or rarely a thrusting laugh
And seldom quizzical eyes
I say hello to them in a whisper
They are unaware I know we are
All of each other.
In a hurry now as I see my
dead daughter's beautiful, happy look
her lips open as she smiles
to the man holding her arm.
Oh, it's all here, everywhere
In the office my son's gleaming intelligence
shimmering in the neon
just a flicker then it's gone
No need to wonder any more.
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.
Snow--By Rhoda Galgiani--United States
Snow
Warmth within one's heart
is precious when the snow
flakes drift into the wind -
beauty over takes the other
wise drab winter state as
the snow glistens when
stirred by the motion of
one's footsteps...
Rhoda Galgiani is a published Poet and Author of two books, Expressions from the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny - a Child’s Story listed at LuLu.com or Amazon.com. Rhoda is a retired senior that delights in maintaining her own website entitled Expressions Poetry Journal which is dedicated to the world of poetry. Come visit her at - chesakat1.blogspot.com
Warmth within one's heart
is precious when the snow
flakes drift into the wind -
beauty over takes the other
wise drab winter state as
the snow glistens when
stirred by the motion of
one's footsteps...
Rhoda Galgiani is a published Poet and Author of two books, Expressions from the Inside Out and No Snow for Johnny - a Child’s Story listed at LuLu.com or Amazon.com. Rhoda is a retired senior that delights in maintaining her own website entitled Expressions Poetry Journal which is dedicated to the world of poetry. Come visit her at - chesakat1.blogspot.com
Friday, March 13, 2015
Whispers 100,000 Milestone!--Editor's Thoughts/Heart of a Poet--By Karen O'Leary--United States
Congratulations contributors! Whispers has passed the 100,000 view
milestone today! This is your honor, your achievement. I often hear
about how impressed people are with the quality of the poems published
at our online journal. Thank you for sharing your talents for our
international readership.
Heart of a Poet
The soul
spills on white sheets--
creative expression
born of compassion, honesty,
and dreams
It is truly the heart of a writer that pours into words that give them meaning and value. It is my privilege to work with not only talented artists but also kind-hearted people. Thank you for encouraging me and others as we journey forward as a community that has become like family to me.
Many blessings,
Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor
Heart of a Poet
spills on white sheets--
creative expression
born of compassion, honesty,
and dreams
It is truly the heart of a writer that pours into words that give them meaning and value. It is my privilege to work with not only talented artists but also kind-hearted people. Thank you for encouraging me and others as we journey forward as a community that has become like family to me.
Many blessings,
Karen O’Leary
Whispers’ Editor
Back To Being Me--By Michael Todd--United States
Back To Being Me (sonnet)
Looking back to a time when you were mine,
Superficial thoughts supposed, I resign.
No fight left in me, don't want to malign,
Conceding, campaign in a state of decline.
For those who don't know me, seems I lack spine;
For those that know me well, it's about time.
Not sure how I got this down, by design?
Comfort zone of late, shadows, time to shine.
Wasted borrowed time, built a hollow shrine;
How two went into one, just can't define;
Clear now, my chosen two can't intertwine.
I might, if asked, like some cheese with my whine.
Go where I'm wanted, things will work out fine;
Stop the world and let me on... my punch line.
Michael Todd aka Myke Todd has been writing and posting stories and poetry on social networking sites since 2006. He can currently be found at his dedicated poetry site... http://myketodd.blogspot.com/
Looking back to a time when you were mine,
Superficial thoughts supposed, I resign.
No fight left in me, don't want to malign,
Conceding, campaign in a state of decline.
For those who don't know me, seems I lack spine;
For those that know me well, it's about time.
Not sure how I got this down, by design?
Comfort zone of late, shadows, time to shine.
Wasted borrowed time, built a hollow shrine;
How two went into one, just can't define;
Clear now, my chosen two can't intertwine.
I might, if asked, like some cheese with my whine.
Go where I'm wanted, things will work out fine;
Stop the world and let me on... my punch line.
Michael Todd aka Myke Todd has been writing and posting stories and poetry on social networking sites since 2006. He can currently be found at his dedicated poetry site... http://myketodd.blogspot.com/
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