Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Dad’s Hands--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Dad’s Hands

In the cafe booth his son asks,
Dad, what do you see
when you look at your hands?

Palms up, palms down, open, closed,
bent, scraped, swollen and raw. Dad
answers, These hands are not mine.

He looks across the table
at this young man’s hands,
smooth, strong, flexible, straight.

You have my hands, Son.
These hands that I have on
once belonged to my father.

Someday, way too soon, you’ll see
that your son will have your hands,
and you, Son, will have mine.

Carl "Papa" Palmer, retired Army, retired FAA, now just plain retired, lives in University Place, Washington. He has seven chapbooks and a contest winning poem riding buses somewhere in Seattle. Carl has been nominated for the Micro Award and Pushcart Prize.

MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever
www.authorsden.com/carlpalmer

I Thank You, Lord--By Helen Dowd--Canada

I Thank You, Lord

I thank You, Lord, for common things--fresh air, and waters clean;
For butterflies and flowers bright; for trees and grass so green,
For all the birds and bees and bugs; for worms and wiggly things;
And even for the spider, Lord. What a splendid web she strings!
I thank You for the special things—far more than I could wish—
My husband, friends, a cozy house; my dogs, my cats, my fish.
I’m glad for this great country where I’m free to worship You,
Where everyone is welcome to express his point of view.

I thank You, God for precious things--like happiness and love;
For sending down Your only Son to earth from heaven above.
Christ cancelled out my debt of sin; He settled up the score.
I thank You, Lord, for all these things, and many, many more.

Helen Dowd enjoys spending time at her computer, along side her husband of 56 years, writing poetry, story poems, stories about pets and life in general, as well as inspirational and Bible stories. She has one book published. Her stories and poems have been published in several Anthologies. She is presently a caregiver for her husband and sister, two dogs, four cats and 3 gold fish.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

I Link Therefore I Am--By Richard Sponaugle--United States

I Link Therefore I Am

I’m a loner,
and a drifter.
Mankind’s morals
disgust me more
each day and night.
But when I feed
birds in the park,
and read of a man
who kills boys,
I know I’m linked
to all mankind
by time and space;
but bound most
by the fact that all
God’s children sin.
The best of us
sin less and beg
for mercy more.

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. 

One’s View Point--By Rhoda Galgiani--United States

One’s View Point

Thoughts come to one's mind
bringing clarity to the subject at hand
Wipe away the webs and let His light in
a brightness you will forever see -
As you, continue your stride in faith...

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

Monday, November 24, 2014

What Shall We Do... --By Jan Henson--Turkey

What Shall We Do...

‘What shall we do today?’
My inner voice said
‘Let’s go kick Autumn leaves
Golden and vivid red’

Through barren trees we trod
Crunching sounds underfoot
Of those leaves of old
By winds gently put

‘What shall we do right now?’
My inner voice said
‘Let’s go home for some tea
And butter with bread’

Sitting by the fireside
Warming our numb toes
Munching with such delight
Wrapped in cosy throws

‘What shall we do later?’
My inner voice said
‘Give thanks to Ma Nature
As we fall into bed’

Jan Henson has written poetry for a few years. She finds it an enjoyable experience.  When she attended school in England (in the ‘50’s) poetry seemed such a dry medium and she wasn’t all that impressed.  After school, she became a hairdresser and continued the profession after her marriage and birth of her four children.  When her youngest was three, she started working nights at a nursing home.  She realized her passion for the profession and became a nurse.  She worked in the healthcare industry for 20 years.  After her children were grown, she retired to Turkey where she currently lives.

The Sunset--By Anne R. C. Neale--United States

The Sunset

As the sun slowly sinks below the horizon,
And darkness slowly sends dark shadows on the ground.
You can sit and become mesmerized with its beauty,
As the sun slowly disappears without a sound.

The beauty and the solitude that you can find,
Is wonderful as you watch the day light end,
Taking time out of your busy day, to see it,
Is a tranquility you can find in life, Amen.

There's so much beauty if only we would take time to look
And see the Glorious scenes that God creates,
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
But sunsets and sunrises are all really great.

Anne R. C. Neale is 85 years old.  She taught outdoor education for 20 years.  Anne still works at school as crossing guard.   She has sent six free poems daily to 165 people for the past 18 years. She been writing poems since the age of 8 and has all of them in albums.  She resides in New Jersey .

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Yesterday’s Joys--By Andrea Dietrich--United States

Yesterday’s Joys

Yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
In my mind they reside endlessly
like bright recollections rosy in hue
or the notes of a sweet melody.

Sorrow and pain won’t burden me, for
yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
Rich in blessings, I’ll never be poor.
Happy memories carry me through.

The “good old days” end; along comes the new,
and so much of it also is sweet!
Yesterday’s joys are more than a few.
With the new ones, my soul is replete!

Sweet recollections never will cease,
for no matter what strife may ensue,
I know in the end, I will find peace.
Yesterday’s joys are more than a few!

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.

He Knows--By Lanette Kissel--United States

He Knows

He is aware of the tiniest sparrow,
knows when it falls from the sky.
He knows the situations which sadden me,
that which can make me cry.
Knows there are times my faith falters,
times when I have to question why.

He knows each and every single strand
of hair upon my head.
He knows the troubles and worries that plague me,
and the words that have gone unsaid.
Knows the situations which frighten me,
that which fills my heart with dread.

He knows the day, the hour, the minute
when I am destined to leave this place,
to enter into my heavenly home
where I will finally see His face.
And I know the blessings of knowing Him,
that He fills my life with His grace.

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.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Lest We Forget--The Poppy--By Jane Richer--Canada

Lest We Forget--The Poppy

In Flander's field where courageous soldiers lie below
there I am planted besides the crosses row by row.
To forever be a reminder of the brave ones that died,
my face is sad; the darkest black as you look inside.

I wear a red velvet gown; to remind you of the blood that was shed,
I hear every cry and feel the tears that are dropped upon my head.
I am there as a reminder; to those families of brave ones gone,
that their sacrifice; led to freedom and a brand new dawn!

Jane Richer is a poet and writer who lives in Alberta, Canada. She is published online and in print. She loves to poke fun at herself and rather likes to write tongue-in-cheek poetry but she will dabble in all kinds of genres to widen her creative nature. She loves to 'sister'- (write a complimentary poem) and feels that is the greatest form of acknowledgment and respect in expression for another poet's talent.

Passage from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me--By Nila J. Webster--United States

Passage from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me

Thank you for life
And death
And life again

For the seed of hope
Born of each sad end

November is my beloved mother's birth month, and I know she always held close the sacred gift of hope, no matter what.

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 23,000 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.

Friday, November 21, 2014

"Stepping Stones"--By Colan Hiatt--United States

"Stepping Stones"

Sometimes our plotted course in life
Is altered by a sudden turn
The days routine, must then give way
A new approach, we have to learn

It's never pleasant at the time
We could permit despair to reign
But a greater burden then we'd know
Just added stress, and increased pain

A better way it seems to me
Just use the fragments that abide
To buoy us to a higher plane
The issue then, is thrust aside

Life doesn't always give it's best
Even though so hard we try
A learning process can be found
Amid a task that would defy

So take courage when turmoil prevails
Remember that you're not alone
When mountains loom across our way
just let them be a "Stepping Stone"

Colan Hiatt resides in Mt. Airy, NC. with his wife. A retired electronic technician, he has been writing for several years. Most all the poetry, is derived from observing "down-to-earth" events that occur around us. A personal "mini-story" is often associated with the majority of compositions. Usually a metaphor is found with spiritual implications that portray God as the ultimate solution to life's problems. To direct the reader to this "Source", is the desired goal.

A Fruitful Life--By Barbara Siekierski--United States

A Fruitful Life

I am with you…

Planted firmly
on the ground,
you will take root
and produce many
good things.
You will sprout
and receive my light.
You will withstand
every tribulation.

My love will
carry you…

Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Tanka--By Shloka Shankar--India

a blue sky
bursts into silence...
these aches
feel so familiar now
as I let them go
_______________

wildflowers
paint summer hues...
the labyrinthine
wanderings of my heart
in this wilderness
_______________

an empty nest
dangles from the branch...
still hoping
to revive what we had
so many moons ago
_______________

Shloka Shankar resides in India, and works as a freelance writer. A contributing poet in over half a dozen anthologies such as The Dance of the Peacock, Traversal of Lines, Family Matters, Emanations IV, and Rainbow Hues, among others, Shloka has also seen her poems published in journals like Ekphrasis, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Urban Confustions, Wordweavers, Verse Wrights, Miracle-ezine, and Cafe Dissensus.

Sister--By David Fox--United States

Sister

There's a special bond between us
It's something no one else can take
For whomever gets between us
This bond shall never break.
It's like we've signed a contract,
In which the terms are "For Life":
To be there for your sibling
In good times and in strife.
Whatever shall become of us,
Whether it be famine, fortune, fame,
You'll always be my sister
And I'll love you just the same.

David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester, Weekly Avocet, Aphelion, Poet’s Expresso and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry.  Contact him at ipoetdavid@gmail.com for more information.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Whispers Within--By Rick Parise--United States

Whispers Within

I am the spirit of satin stardust
and the antiquities of golden memories alive
I call to you from  the rising warmth of the sun
and greet you in the misty morning light
I am the steady and rolling drum beat
echoing from the jagged heights above
I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters'
and the freedom birds of love
I rise above the white summer clouds
in lilting songs of grace
and roam with the western tail-winds
to take you home again

I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty

of love, hope and faith
I have come to tell

Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon.  The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirit's are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at rapondering@yahoo.com

Marley's Breakfast--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

Marley's Breakfast

Marley awakens while it's still dark,
her tummy grumbling with hunger.
Her mother who works the night shift
at the diner will not be home until
after Marley and Billy have gone
to school. She finds a little cornmeal
in the bin, mixes it with water, cooks it,
and gives it to Billy who gobbles it up.
She licks the spoon and puts it in the sink.
They do not need to dress. They are
wearing the only clothes they have.
Marley takes Billy's hand, and they walk
to school. Her first class is English,
but she does not hear the teacher.
She only hears the grumbling in her tummy

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, November 18, 2014

New Delhi Railroad Station--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand

New Delhi Railroad Station

Hot, tired, dusty, out of sync
to the station staggering luggage
Swarms of beings standing, bending, lying
Dark beautiful faces with eyes that bind
Making you think of God
And his strange creation.
Breathing, sheer force of life, exhaling
Stinking smells, flower perfume mingling
Drifting, mouths gabbling unknown languages
Floating the air, shouts, whispers
Stares, trains in, trains out
Monks shaven heads, tranquil looks
Turbans, beards abound
Babies who choke you with emotion
Their innocence lit so bright

My head hurts, my throat hurts
I want to see it as a movie
Lights, camera, action
But the Director makes no cuts
I am a bit player.

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.

Vestige--By Cristine A. Gruber--United States

Vestige

He didn’t have much
in the way of mementos,
a bible that belonged
to his mama, a tobacco tin
that his daddy had used.

There were a few gifts
from his girls over the years,
and more recently, keepsakes
from the grandchildren too.
He kept these things,

but rarely looked at them.
But once each autumn,
when the earth gleamed golden
for a time, just before turning
barren for yet another winter,

he would retrieve the small box
from the back of his closet, sit
for a spell, and re-read each card,
one by one, voicing each word,
reliving every moment.

Cristine A. Gruber, a Southern California native, is a registered caregiver as well as a widely-published poet. Her work has been featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, The Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, The Penwood Review, The Poet’s Haven, Red River Review, The Tule Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from Amazon.com. More of Cristine's work can be found at http://sierraviewjournal.blogspot.com/.

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Great Depression--By Elizabeth Kral--United States

The Great Depression
(In memory of my mother, born 1919)

The Great Depression
made quite an impression
on Mom and her foods of choice.

Chicken was prized,
beans despised,
and she loved all cakes and pies.

We took her out.
A special treat,
dinner at a restaurant down the street.

But the Great Depression
made such an impression,       
she would not order a platter.

She opted instead
for the basket of bread,
with a bowl of bean and ham chowder.

Elizabeth Kral is retired and resides with her husband in Surprise, Arizona. Local memberships include the Arizona West Valley Writers Workshop and the Arizona West Valley Writers Critique Group. Elizabeth and her husband enjoy spending summers in Colorado, and she is a member there of the Steamboat Springs Writer’s Workshop.

Autumn--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada

Autumn

listening as Autumn's voice takes hold
aimlessly roaming among the red, green and gold

as daylight slowly falls from the sky
I'm content to watch the pastel clouds pass me by

holding the remnants of yesterday in my hand
I let them go and wonder where they might land

a bonfire smolders, lingering in the air as memories burn
where this soul longs to be and one day return

flames break through the landscape setting it afire
to not see this vision end is my deep desire

my eyes far away in a silent moment of thought
in awe of the beauty of this world I'm caught

in the twilight of fall the love of a season again found
captivated by its presence and to it forever bound

Born in Toronto, Ontario, Sandra is a self taught writer. She has been writing off and on since an early age. Most of her writing revolves around what she sees in everyday life, nature and her concerns about mankind. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, animals and photography.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Tanka--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

autumn’s rose petals
gently falling
may my years pass
with such poise
and such grace

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)

Yesterday’s Echo--By Janet Vick--United States

Yesterday’s Echo

The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight.
Regrets were catalogued, redeemed as lost
and dreams contained within self-floating spheres
because reality was smeared in fears
as time evaporated all it cost.

The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight
but tiny kisses from the memories
brought hope tomorrow’s walk would echo free.
Regrets were catalogued, redeemed as lost
as time evaporated all it cost.
The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight.

Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Memories of Summer Rambles--By Marianne Szlyk--United States

Memories of Summer Rambles

A girl of the last century
strides
along the bike path,
past the goldenrod
the spiky chicory,
and Queen Anne’s lace.

With a brick red anthology in her book bag,
she wishes she lived among the Romantics
walking twenty miles or more
through the car-free countryside.

Waiting for a walk light
in August’s brittle brilliance,
she remembers a minor poem
that her grandmother still recites from memory,
having learned it
by a river
brick-red with dye
at the beginning of the last century.

Every so often Marianne Szlyk thinks about taking a walking tour in England, but for now she is happy to explore the Washington, DC area. She 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 Individual poems have appeared in print and online, most recently in Poppy Road Review, Flutter Poetry Journal, The Greensilk Journal, bird's thumb, The Blue Hour Literary Anthology Volume 3, and Literature Today. She also edits The Song Is..., a journal of poetry inspired by music.

Poet of the Month--Sara Kendrick

Strength

By Sara Kendrick

The trip to church on Sunday wasn't long
Down dry dusty country roads closer roamed
Hearts did rejoice when singing love's sweet song
Precious memories now deeply intoned

A home filled to the brim with kith and kin
No evidence of the grief she suffered
When in her youth tales of such loss did spin
By age of twenty-five her life crumbled

Joys of a young bride with husband beside
Darling daughters three in tow~gone~from life
Oh, life’s issues such hard brazen blows inside
No longer was she a mother and wife

Her faith in a loving God never failed
She had strength of character which prevailed 

I have been doing some research about my biological family
I found that my father's mother was married in her youth
and had three daughters which all died as did her husband..
She married my grandfather and then had four sons which
all lived. She never gave up her faith through it all. What strength.

_______________

From the editor--It is a privilege to announce that Sara Kendrick is November’s Poet of the Month.  She is a talented writer that has been published in a variety of venues.  Readers at Whispers relate to her heartfelt poetry.  Sara regularly leaves thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  She has collaborated with other writers on poems that have been featured at Whispers and has brought new writers to our online journal.  It is a pleasure to present Sara with this honor!
_______________

Thoughts on “Strength”--Sara sets the tone of the poem in the first two lines which are rich in imagery.  Based on a true story, this poem has a powerful impact.  We all have losses and challenges.  It’s what we do with them that counts in life.  Sara portrays a woman of amazing courage--“No evidence of the grief she suffered.”  This poem conveys a real hero, one that was a light despite all she suffered.  This is a wonderful piece with a timeless message.
_______________

Congratulations and thank you Sara!  I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.

Sincerely,

Karen O’Leary, Editor

Blinded by the Speed of Life--By Joe Flach--United States

Blinded by the Speed of Life

I never took the time to speak my love
I never told him what I was thinking of
I never thanked him for all he had done
I never said I was proud to be his son

I always waited for the perfect time
I always kept those thoughts inside my mind
I always choked on the words when in his sight
I always said I would, in bed at night

But, I was blinded by the speed of life
Now, on angel’s wings he’s taken flight
To have shared his world, I feel delight
I was blinded by the speed of life

And, now it’s too late, I missed my chance
I wasn’t there for his final dance
He never heard me say what I had to say
Now, I miss my father, every day

I was blinded by the speed of life
Now, on angel’s wings he’s taken flight
To have shared his world, I feel delight
I was blinded by the speed of life

Joe Flach is an amateur poet living in Gig Harbor, WA. Joe has been writing poetry, short stories and song lyrics his entire life but has only recently found the courage to share some of his work with others through internet websites and his own Poetry Facebook Page – “Poems, Lyrics and Stuff by an Average Joe”. As a professional consultant working in the fields of crisis management and disaster recovery, Joe uses has writing as a form of stress release and an opportunity to expand his horizons. Joe is a father of four children who he often relies on as a source for inspiration.

Friday, November 14, 2014

To What We Lost--By Jack Horne--England

To What We Lost

As you leave,
I pass you a poppy
in remembrance of our love,
bloody and battered.
It died on life's battlefield,
another casualty,
another number.
Wear your poppy with pride
and remember me.

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.

Dayspring--By Lisa DeVinney--United States

Dayspring

Dawn quietly seeps through the porous fog,
On this, a shrouded, frosty, autumn morn.
The veil begins to lift, the ground to thaw;
As bird, and beast, and flow’r begin to warm.

And sun reveals a bright and blessed new day,
Once hidden by a curtain, thick and cold.
Fresh glories waken, and stretch forth, anew.
God’s mercies for the day ahead unfold.

Oh Son, who melts away the darkest veil;
Who warms the heart that’s filled with joy and grace;
Come touch us with the rays of Thy sweet love,
And let us gaze upon Thy lovely face.

Oh, Dayspring from on high, shine down on me.
I shall, forever, gladly worship Thee.

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

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse--United States

Fisherman

By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse

Swimming, life carefree
Net tightens around the school
Deliverance, grace

May your hook always be cast
Where you least expect fish caught

Synergism, save
These lost fish, grateful intent
Catch and release, Life

Responsible now
Freedom, new life in warm water
Breach, spout words, joy, sing

School of life, protective school
Numbers rise with the right bait

Bait, love, nurturance
Guide... North Star...The leader Home
Reward eternal life

The Warlock’s Rubric--By John Polselli--United States

The Warlock’s Rubric

Sail down upon the river, child;
   Sail on beneath the bridge,
Where lives a hidden wizard, mild,
   Providing tutelage.
Drift deep within the darkness, where
   His soft voice beckons thee,
And drop thy anchor by his lair--
   O, heed his urgent plea:
“Do not release the rose of youth
   Regardless of thy years,
For should it fall and wither, truth
   And joy shall turn to tears.
Ensnare the springtime in thy heart
   Until thy final breath,
For though thy mortal cloak depart,
   Thy soul shall conquer death.”

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.

How Dare You--By Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi

How Dare You

For Denis, my nephew

How dare you die and leave us wondering
How you dared dying? Is this one
Of those games you like playing -
Missing in action - and your fellow men
In uniform coming to look for you?

How dare you die and leave your child wondering
How possible it can be to know no father? Is this
How silly life can be that you come back
From a soldierly mission only to die of malaria
On a silly Wednesday like an Ash Wednesday?

How dare you die and leave your wife wondering
How a morning bye can lead to widowhood? And how
Stupid life can be when what we see becomes
An illusion of what really is. And there we are -
Fools, chasing our own follies. And life remains life.

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 a daughter Mary Magdalena.