Friday, October 31, 2014

Submission Guidelines

Thank you for considering Whispers for a place to share your writing.  The guidelines follow:

1.  Submissions of unpublished and previously published work are acceptable.  Please do not send quotes from others unless they are in the context of the piece submitted and that the original author is given credit.  It is up to the author to obtain permission if needed for reprints.  By submitting to Whispers, the writer is assuring that the work is his or her own.  Whispers reserves the right to delete any work that has been copied from another writer without credit or authorization.

2.  Send one of the three following:

    ---1 poem 20 lines or less

    ---up to 5 haiku/senryu (please make sure to clearly identify that separate poems are being submitted)

    ---up to 3 tanka (see above)

    ---for people that are not poets, 1 short paragraph of encouragement will be considered

Writers are eligible for publication every other month.

3.  You may include a bio of 4-5 lines written in third person style.  See “Living Wings” published January 15, 2013 for an example.  A bio is not necessary for publication.

4.  No profanity, erotica, violence or other derogatory writing will be accepted.

5.  Whispers reserves the right to select poetry based on the goal stated at the end of the guidelines.

6.  Spiritual poetry is welcomed but the editor would like to have a variety of pieces that will uplift and inspire readers.  Humor is appreciated.

7.  Children’s poetry is appreciated.  Parent permission is required.  Please email before sending.

8.  Poetry will be published along the left margin for consistency.  Please keep that in mind when submitting.

9.  Preferred method of submission is to send poetry as a works document or in the body of an email with your name and country.  Please email your submission to Karen O’Leary at  If you would rather submit by snail mail, please email Karen for her address.  You may email her with any questions you may have.

10.  I hope you also participate by commenting on others’ writing. 

In this challenging time for many, it is the hope that Whispers will connect people in a way that is supportive, encouraging and inspiring to others.  Thank you for considering being a part of this community.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Season for Living--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Season for Living

Closing her journal
of frosty thoughts,
the fever of mourning
for justice is past.
The army will not
unlock the secrets
of her son’s death.
Two years~~she
will weep no more.


The treasure of summer
is in bloom to behold.
Her neighbor’s whimsical
wind chimes dance
in a magical breeze
beckoning her to join
in the song of freedom.
Twirling on green grass,
she finds life and laughs.


 Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND.  Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues.  She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher.  Their second project, anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012.  Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Over Pumpkins on the Vine--By Stacy Savage--United States

Over Pumpkins on the Vine

When ripe pumpkins on the vine
And golden stalks are all in line,
And the wind sets sail the leaves,
And there’s brightness in the trees
As they bend and creak their age,
The sky becomes a stage
With confetti swirling ‘round
That is mingled with the sound
Of honking drawing near
Before a “V” disappears
Into the sunset’s glow—
Oh, what a wonderful show
When the geese and sky align
Over pumpkins on the vine!

Stacy Savage has published six books. Her recent anthology, Naturally Yours: Poems and Short Stories about Indiana State Parks and Reservoirs, benefits Indiana Natural Resources Foundation's "Discovering the Outdoors Fund.” Stacy believes in mixing poetry and good causes together. Visit her Facebook page to keep up-to-date on her poetry contests:

Deep Country Autumn--By Brian Whatcott--United States

Deep Country Autumn

I rode by in country sand,
michaelmas daisies smiling left and right;
wild plums in green dress, daisies in white.
The fruit now departed at children’s hands
by bike, or on foot they hike
with baskets ready for jam and jelly;
dirty hands and knees and round pink belly.

Brian Whatcott is a writer from Oklahoma. He and his wife, Norma, have three children. He enjoys flying, sailing and water-skiing.

Monday, October 27, 2014

My Darling Ann--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States

My Darling Ann  

Blow Wind, Blow, this hull’s gonna hold,
Pitch and Dive, crackle boards and roll,
Roaring waves twisting us askew,
I must  save  boat, cargo and crew.
Blow Wind, Blow Devil that you are
My darling Ann calls from afar.
All through the night the fierce wind roared
Trying to break every board.
Wheel in a death grip, sweat filled eyes.
Feet tied to floor, let go crew dies.
Ride this storm sailor by your hand.
Take me home to my darling Ann.

Below sailors prayed for their lives
All fearing  death with the boat’s dives.
As the old boat heaved, rocked and rolled.
They prayed  the Captain’s grip would hold.
Sea quieted, yielding to Captain’s hand. 
He came home to his darling Ann.

Robert Hewett Sr. was born 1n 1933 on a Texas cotton farm. He moved to Oklahoma City at Age 14 and entered the U. S Army from there in 1953. Robert has been writing poetry and short stories for his family and himself since his teen years, but is just now publishing his collection of works. His hobbies include writing poetry and stories; clock and watch collections; gardening and growing flowers and shrubs from cuttings. Most of his poetry tells a story, a gift from his father who was a master story teller. He has received numerous awards for his work in his professional life and for his writing. You can find some of his writings at ""

What Is Poetry?--By Jim Teeters--United States

What Is Poetry?

In the beginning was the Word
           -John 1:1

It’s only words
words only, yes
that only – but wait

an arrangement of words
            offers meaning
            word pictures, really
how a pond can be your life
how a branch of the elm
can tell a story
of being cut off from love
lopped and fallen
            now just a lonely stick
        that only

Jim Teeters has published poetry in several anthologies. He conducts poetry workshops for children and adults and is active in poetry readings in the Seattle area through the Striped Water Poets. He is the author of six poetry collections and the book, Teach with Style, (ASTD Press July 2013). Jim is a retired social worker living in Kent, Washington.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Haiku--By Ron Moss--Australia

riding high
on dad’s shoulders
I touched the moon

dying nettlefold
the hardness of veins
in my father's hands

memorial day
a place the wind blows
beyond the light

Ron C. Moss is a Tasmania visual artist, poet and lover of haiku. His poetry has won international awards and been translated into several languages. Ron's art is sold as limited edition-prints and originals. He has been featured in poetry journals and has designed several award winning poetry books.  Ron is a two time winner of the Haiku Society of America International renku competition, and he is a current member on the Haiku Society of America. Please check out Ron’s

Awaiting Halloween--By Russell Sivey--United States

Awaiting Halloween

My front door, the color of pumpkins
As a skeleton adorns the screen door
Jack-o-lanterns plenty about the porch
And spider webs exist upon the floor

Owl sits on the deformed tree in the yard
Filled with many spooky eyes in the holes
A scarecrow stands guarding my open gate
Cats, all black, run around looking for moles

A witch laughing sits in a dark corner
Moving to the sound of a passerby
We wait for the first sign of fearful kids
On Halloween night, I love it, no lie

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, October 25, 2014

Whimpering Miracle--By Kevin Bates--United States

Whimpering Miracle

Sets out as he does everyday
the constant work he is assigned.
Whimpered cries in a distance,
first thought to be dying animal.

The cries grow drawing him near.
It is the whimpering of the baby,
maybe God's attention to his child.
All that is certain time for a miracle.

In a bin of unwanted food and boxes,
there’s a bag outlined with new life.
Baby wrapped in a shirt for comfort,
ushered to a chest to discover a heartbeat.

The warmth, comfort and miracle of God
transferred in care of a workingman.
Once a mother’s unwanted trash;
Now a treasure of this world and God

Kevin Bates is an avid reader. You will find him reading everyday books of non-fiction or poetry online. He loves family, sports, reading and writing poetry. He has one handsome son and grandson. He hopes to bring a smile and help many through his poetry. He lives outside Houston, Texas and can find him reading or writing right now.

clouds hover...By Shivapriya Ganapathy--India

clouds hover
over twinkling stars-
a blackout poem
by my window

Shivapriya Ganapathy is from Kanchipuram, India. She graduated with a Masters degree in English Language and Literature from Madras Christian College, Chennai, and is now a research scholar at University of Madras. Apart from being a researcher and an avid reader, she is an aspiring poet, constantly learning and experimenting with new forms like micropoetry, black out and erasure. She maintains a personal poetry blog ( and finds writing, therapeutic.

Friday, October 24, 2014

To Face the Day--By Peggy Heinrich--United States

To Face the Day

Sleep is the little death
that surfaces each day
in the sullen morning face
the bathroom mirror frames
the puffy eyes, pouches heavy
from unforgiving gravity
the lips a downward curve
reflect tragedy's grim mask
a splash of chill
the zombie wakes
the mouth reverses
to a somewhat smile
light from a distant star
floods each freshly opened eye
a sort of self returns
to the person in the mirror
the face, the soul revive
with each quick thought,
each spoken word, each smile
as day ticks down to noon

Peggy Heinrich's poems have appeared in Verdad, Future Cycle, and the new renaissance and many other small press journals. Her books, A Minefield of Etceteras and Sharing the Woods, showcase her longer poems. She has also published a collection of her tanka, Forward Moving Shadows, and a collection of her haiku, Peeling an Orange, both with photographs by John Bolivar. A long-time resident of New York and Connecticut, she now lives in Santa Cruz, California.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Yancy Lee and Diana Dalton--United States

Pain Play

By Yancy Lee and Diana Dalton

Pain and injury, not easily tolerated
Hurting topped by expenses generated
Popping controversial Dr. prescribed pills
Side effects, money hemorrhaging bills
Cooperate man, trumps men's misfortune
Expensively treated, a nasty distortion

Time to change the unfortunates’ way
Health care system where men play
World wide medical lottery system
75% to heal mankind, no victim
25% to winners treasure over strife
Life gamblers supporting each life

Now, I'm not a gambler in money means,
Yet, I'd gladly buy tickets for fellow beings

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Meditation on an Artist--By Darrell Lindsey--United States

Meditation on an Artist

He painted men with long beards and missing teeth,
bent women with canes,
lonely children walking through meadows
on their way back home.
At night, he would study each shade,
each shadow of their lives
in the ramshackle cabin
he inherited from his father.
Sometimes he said he could feel them
guiding the brush,
hear their voices
singing to the starry night.
Ah, to hear him hum
when the shapes, colors, and moods on the canvas
captured a bit of what it means to be human,
all too human.

Darrell Lindsey is the author of Edge of the Pond ( Popcorn Press, 2012), and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize ( 2007) and a Rhysling Award ( 2014). He won the 2012 Science Fiction Poetry Association Contest ( Long Form category), as well as the 2014 Balticon Poetry Contest. His haiku and tanka have garnered numerous international awards, and one of his poems is included in Haiku In English: The First Hundred Years ( W.W.Norton & Company, 2013).

A Prophet : Defining the Term--By Robert A. Dufresne--United States

A Prophet : Defining the Term

A Prophet is not one who can predict future acts.
He’s given the grace to see and relate the facts.
To those who are blind,
he appears most unkind,
And is susceptible to all kinds of attacks.

Robert A. Dufresne was born in Vermont and raised on a dairy farm. After four years in the Navy and trying his hand at a couple of trades, he settled in as a self employed remodeling carpenter for 31 years. He and his wife moved to Florida in 1998, where he continued his career. He began writing poetry in 2009 .

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Autumn Acrostic--By Yancy Lee Dalton--United States

Autumn Acrostic

Autumn chills all the air we inhale
Undermining the template scale
Tempting some in art of giving up
Under influence of bitterness cup
Mankind with egos & good minds
No wonder most this beauty finds

Autumn's a wonderful time of year
Carrying beautiful colors so clear
Rain bowed through out the land
Over plains, hills & rivers to band
Stirring eyesight of every heart
To inspire each man, in new start
Irrigating refreshing hope visions
Causing many mankind revisions

Yancy Lee Dalton is a published writer from Colorado.

The Shape of Inexistence--By Ali Znaidi--Tunisia

The Shape of Inexistence

When the night comes
existence takes the shape
of inexistence for those
who have no home
but the streets’ laps,
for those who queue,
           as usual,
waiting for new sorrows,
       & above all,
for those whose morning
is not yet to come.

Ali Znaidi (b. 1977) lives in Redeyef, Tunisia, where he teaches English. His work has appeared in various magazines and journals worldwide. He authored four poetry chapbooks including Experimental Ruminations (Fowlpox Press, 2012), Moon’s Cloth Embroidered with Poems (Origami Poems Project, 2012), Bye, Donna Summer! (Fowlpox Press, 2014), and Taste of the Edge (Kind of A Hurricane Press, 2014). Links to his published and forthcoming works can be found at 

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Autumn's Last Leaf--By James Rasmusson--United States

Autumn's Last Leaf

Before the biting arctic wind
autumn's last leaf helplessly clings.
Other leaves, less tenacious
lie wet and matted
beneath the season's first snowfall.

Nothing shows of summer's pointillistic canvas
save the occasional fir tree and bramble.
Winter's pen and ink simplicity waxes gray and white
to show the landscape's ebb and flow
in chiaroscuro light.

In the cold of winter the luckless suffer
the impatient perish,
yet here and there
the tracks of bird and rabbit
show how life goes on.

If autumn's last leaf were to weather wind and ice
and snow and feel again the tepid balm of April-spring,
it would surely come to naught
for nothing dead can cling
before the swelling of a tender bud.

James began writing in the 1960’s and immediately showed a love for seasonal, humorous, and philosophical poetry. In the late 70’s, he became an ardent photographer and soon found that the two artistic mediums cross pollinated each other. West Michigan is an art Mecca with over 100 galleries and art camps with Jim residing in the lovely coastal town of Holland, Michigan. A practitioner of Surat Shabd Yoga since 1972, his art is an expression of his lifetime love affair with nature and his quest for truth. James is the winner of many awards in both photography and poetry including the 2005 Shadow Poetry 5th biannual chapbook competition. The artist says he likes to underscore the abstract and tease the mind and be ever alert for juxtapositions that express irony, absurdity, and poignancy, desiring for people to feel both tension and resolution in his compositions.

Poems for Someone--By George L. Ellison--England

Poems for Someone

Rhyming poetry short or long
Gets my muse in the mood to write
Endeavour to make words a song
Give all I can not to sound trite

Emotive words drip from my quill
Leaving readers’ time to reflect
The words I’ve written did instill
Love for poetry and deflect

Thoughts of the most trying of days
Softened by words so poetic
Cast them to a place far away
You can go too when all’s hectic

Come with me and soon you will see
Each word I write is just for you
Universal praise is not me
Each word I write I write for you

George L. Ellison is a writer of poetry and  short stories. He as published two books called Poetic Reminiscences and Weaving Words.  George lives with his wife and dogs in Chester-Le-Street, County Durham in England. He is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance. He is currently working on his new project as well as learning to play the saxophone at the Sage Gateshead!

Monday, October 20, 2014

Eternity Anew--By Erich J. Goller--United States

Eternity Anew

For the morning’s sky of blue
Thy love you have given me
Has turned all my thoughts to you
To share all the joy with thee

Love shall cause the sun to shine
I feel it with faith and trust
When the day turns even time
Then the moon brings out the lust

Lifted up by mighty wings
Love shall grow within the heart
Such loving blessing it brings
Never ever to depart

It’s beheld through to brightest view
For eternity anew

Erich J. Goller was born in Vienna, Austria. A close world war two survivor,
in 1955, he immigrated to California, where he made his living as a mechanic and as an actor. He been married for 56 years, has one daughter and one son. He is a published author of seven books. He now resides In Nashville, Tennessee, still loves to write, also enjoys doing art work. His web site,

Tree Whispers--By Joan McNerney--United States

Tree Whispers

Blue diamond rains
filigree of golden light
so many shades of green.

Sun beams on a single leaf.
This small star pulsating
from my wet apple tree.

Bright new leaf
fits hand perfectly---the future
lies in your palm.

After the long rain
pine trees bending
with cones.

Sugar maple trees
sashaying with autumn winds
all dressed up in yellow lace.

Branches etch evening sky
turning razzle dazzle
purple red citron.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Camel Saloon, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Spectrum, and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane and Poppy Road Anthologies.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

River Laps Softly--By Robert Lindley--United States

River Laps Softly

The ripples of water lap river's edge
quietly I sit, a man seeking love
The orange twilight stirs my lonely soul
nearby, the moan of a single dove

Sweetest place, roaring river churns
fish splashing about in a soft replay
Continuance as the world slowly turns
colors splash endings to a wonderful day

The smell of fish, water and mud
cool air spreading its soft relief
Comfort given to stop anger in my blood
as nature’s gifts, a most calming belief

Soon its quiet, knowledge enters my soul
Victory came because I made it so

Robert Lindley is poet from the Southern USA. He has been writing poetry since 1969. Robert writes with the intent to offer others words to enjoy and with high hopes he may inspire and brighten lives in some way.

Whirlwind--By Robert P. Hansen--United States


A whirlwind twisted through the streets
and settled in a lonesome heart;
It’s rhythmic thrum of hungry lust—
a need so strong it surely must
be sated!—whirred a hectic beat,

a frantic beat, a needful beat
that could not be denied. Her heart
was stymied, twisted by the blustery

until it lay in tatters, hurt
beyond imagining—a hurt
so deep it left a mark that lasted
months and years. Her heart was lost—
until she felt the kicking feet
                          of a whirlwind….

Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college, and he is currently finishing the second book of a fantasy series. His other three novels and collections of his poetry and short stories are currently available as e-books through various online retailers. For details, visit his blog at:

Saturday, October 18, 2014

With Wide Ears--By Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada

With Wide Ears

Listen to the wind.....
as she sings in her quiet lisps,
and sighs the past and gusts
with earnest need;

Listen to the tenets of the seasons
with their lovelies and tempests ----
and torrents and great rains
become blizzards,
then hushed and bequeathed sings the morrow;
and buds the leaf and the harvests
shall feed all in need

Listen to the tenuous hum and drum of mortal bars
crying out 'neath thy starry night....
when the world is weary in the City of Lights;
and the last dog has barked before bed.....
and the crickets with Godspeed ascend their chatter
in the last tumult of the day,

Keith O. J. Hunt is a Classic-Romantic poet who generally prefers the older styles which he finds the greatest way to express his thoughts. He loves people, nature, spirituality and all things beautiful. Keith lives in Ottawa, Canada and has been writing poetry for 15 yrs.

Rosemary Smith--By Linda Hurdwell--England

Rosemary Smith

Rosemary Smith is a slip of a girl
With thick brown hair that just won’t curl.
And eyes a shade of darkest blue
That stare disarmingly out at you.

Rosemary Smith has restless feet
And won’t stay seated on her seat.
Her fragile body wants to dance
And moves around at every chance.

Rosemary Smith can’t help but twirl
Because she is a special girl.
She finds delight in unusual things
Straws and shadows and butterfly wings.

Rosemary Smith watches the world go by
As she whirls about beneath the sky
Laughing in her secretive way
While lost music begins to play.

Rosemary Smith can bring such joy
As she dances for each girl and boy
Grabbing a stick or holding a straw.
Dear sweet child holds us in awe.

Linda Hurdwell has been a widow for 5 years.  She has two adult sons. Living in the English countryside, she takes her dog, Bessie, for a daily walks and that's where many of her poems and stories are born.  She has always loved writing and has a few short stories published.  Although now a pensioner,  she enjoys working with adults with learning disabilities and running a mencap social club once a week.  Her hobbies are writing, tap dancing, and going to the theatre or cinema with my friends.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Sonnet for the Vietnam Dead--By Robert A. Hall--United States

Sonnet for the Vietnam Dead

They were but boys, whose lives you threw away.
They went because the country asked them to,
And served a cause their leaders would betray—
Thank Christ they never saw that bitter day.

They lived in holes, and slept in soaking rain,
Grew thin, and sick, and weary through and through.
They knew each day the taste of fear and pain,
And never thought that sacrifice was vain.

And when the touch of death had come around,
To valiant lives forever shaming you,
For love of comrades and by honor bound,
They poured their blood like water on the ground.

And we who loved them, we cannot forget—
And won’t forgive—while breath is in us yet.

Robert A. Hall, a Marine Vietnam Veteran, served 5 terms in the Massachusetts State Senate. He was an Association Executive from 1982 to 2013, retiring due to pulmonary fibrosis for a lung transplant 12/23/13. His 11 books, including two of poetry, Old Jarhead Poems and Share the Cup are here: Royalties go to charity. He does the Old Jarhead blog.

yet there are still--By jani johe webster--United States

yet there are still

the october nights
hold a chill
and the dawn speaks
of frost the kills
these disintegrated dreams
    from another autumn

yet there are still
the meadows of spring
sun on a june day

and flowers
that will bloom
   in the white snow.

Thoughts from Nila Webster--This poem, written by my mother jani johe webster, is reflective of her deeply held truth that even in the deepest and coldest winters, flowers are blooming in our lives, and in our souls. She always felt that our imagination held a special key to beauty, and this perspective continues to give me hope and courage.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Faraway Woman--By Donna Bowring--United States

Faraway Woman

She walks alone on a high mountain
glides barefoot through Arabian sands.
She communes with old gods in the high desert
builds a thatched hut on a beach
and explores forbidden jungles.

She lives on an island in Puget Sound
rides Alaskan ice on a dog sled
and dances under a silver moon in Tahiti.
She haunts a monastery in Ireland
and runs with the bulls in Pamplona.

She knits skeins of the past into long memories
drinks down the rays of a dying sun
and blows its ashes to the four winds.
She reads the dust of fading stars
for visions of love, fortune and death.

She lights a beacon
for those in restless slumber
who will rise in dreams
to become a faraway woman.

Donna Bowring is a retired graphic artist from Goodyear, AZ. Her short stories have been published in the 2012, 2013 and 2014 Inkslingers' Anthology, a publication of the West Valley Writer's Workshop. She has also published short stories in the 2012 and 2013 editions of Canyon Voices, an online journal from the west campus of Arizona State University.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Andrea Dietrich--United States and Jan Allison--United Kingdom

Poor Peter Pumpkin

By Andrea Dietrich and Jan Allison

Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.

The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.

Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!

I think it’s time for you to finally go and face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!

“My,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”

Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.

They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.

The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”

Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.

We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat."

Peter trembled with a chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”

He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!

“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you guys help me!”

Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.

For he ran across a man named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!

Loyal Friends--By John W. (Bill) Williams--United States

Loyal Friends

Loyal friends
are compassionate and kind.
They are like a light
that warms the heart
when things go wrong.

Loyal friends
do not ask
what they can do…
they seem to know
when they are needed.

Loyal friends
are steadfast and admirable…
they grow in love,
and plant gardens
of memorable memories.

John W. (Bill) Williams is a retired language arts and children’s literature educator.  He lives in Martin, GA, where he stays busy with his art and poetry.  He has been published in a variety of venues.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Waves--By Phyllis Babcock--Canada


Forever relentless,
always receding

with all of it's power
pushes hour after hour

Unending sounds
carried on the wind

rolling in rhythmic beat
pounding beneath the feet

It rolls in like thunder
and rolls back under

Life resembles the waves
Times of lull then explosions

Phyllis Babcock was born in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1951 and currently resides in Regina with her husband. She has been blessed with two wonderful sons and daughter-in-laws. She has two grandsons and two granddaughters. She started writing poetry in 2004 and joined Poetry Soup site in 2006. She has been published in two anthologies, On Butterfly Wings and Snippets. Her work has also appeared on and in a local seniors’ newspaper. She feels writing has been a wonderful journey, meeting many new poets and writers along the way.