Friday, February 27, 2015

Time--David Coon--United States


Time's turbulent thrust
torments the tempest
that throttles thoughts
throughout transient

Time's travesties travel through thickets
threading tapestries to tomorrow.

David (Dave) Coon has been sharing has poems on various social sites since 1997 and has always gone by the name of Nissmech.

The Love Letter--By Keith O. J. Hunt--Canada

The Love Letter

My dear, I shall meet thee in the summer of thy heart,
where we once walked head to each
elegant upon the world....
And had not a care but for little winds of love
winking there in the dreams of trees,
laying upon me to so delicately, tickle with your autumn hair,
always so soap-scented you
Touch me where I had not known
the ease of such wonder in your eyes,
splendor only for a great king ----
but I a hopeless romantic muse,
with little empty pockets blessed with thy precious petal,
am richer than any lord!
I shall wait for thee in our golden glade,
the heart which flows the waterfall....
by the dawn of your sweet embrace,
in the summer of thy heart,
I shall wait....

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.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Creature In The Night--By Kelly Deschler--United States

Creature In The Night

Where cold stars exist in the dark,
serene winds whisper to trees
and scarce human ears can listen,
lone songs wail in the distance
in frozen moon's silver spotlight,
a mark left where paws had paused.

Kelly Deschler lives in Big Falls, Wisconsin. Her poem, “Creature In The Night“, was inspired by actual events that took place this winter when she discovered that a wolf had wandered near her home.

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Michael Todd and Nicole Neal--United States

Remember (Mimi's Song)

By Michael Todd and Nicole Neal

I think I'd like to look back, but not sure how far I need to go.
To a place in time, you were just mine, that's all I needed to know.

What got in the way, perfect plans we made, just to roll with the flow.
For a time, you were the light of my life. Didn't we bask in the glow?

Remember a time, our greatest obstacle was being too young, some said?
Maybe, they knew then what we could not see, facing a long road ahead.

I only saw pride and passion as what mattered in those days, instead
You were the means to a perfect end, maybe my sense of reason fled.

Remembering, as if yesterday, moments of being more than just anything.
We had so much to overcome. The goal stayed clear, always to that you cling.

Should it matter that we went as far as we did, a stone's throw away from eternity.
Yet for all that we put into this, it was harder than it ever had to be.

I never asked you why this ended. It almost seemed of little concern.
Maybe we were meant for more than what we had, lessons still yet to learn.

Could we not have stayed in this long forgotten dream, a queen to a king?
As your smile faded, I was left to watch you fly away, like a bird on the wing.

We couldn't prove them wrong, just once. That would have been too hard.
Instead, we folded at the bend, at last chance to hold all the cards.

I am no longer sure it was the right thing to do, letting you go that way.
You were left with no choice but to walk out of my life, nothing left to say.

No more perfect life to live, even as such. Without you, I'll move on.
To pretend you were never there, makes remembering harder. When you're gone.

Gone--By Linda Hurdwell--England


Footsteps trample through my heart
Grief runs along my veins
It seemed to end before the start
Death pulled the life line reins.

So much to say, so much to do
But little time was left
Death really didn’t have a clue
When he left me so bereft.

But he’s let a flutter touch my soul
Memories timidly show
Finally I creep toward a goal
Allowing hope to flow.

My loved one is now next door
In the shadows of the past
I wonder what is now in store?
As I let him go at last.

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.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Haiku--By Maralee Gerke--United States

winter soil
welcomes rain-
I imagine daffodils

miniature hearts
in the snow-
my valentine from a mule deer

snow melt
on patterned linoleum
my stocking feet

winter evening-
my stone lantern
turbaned in snow

Maralee Gerke lives and writes in Madras, Oregon. She is and avid reader and gardener. She describes herself as a work in progress. Her poems have been published in Calyx, Exit Thirteen, Moonset, Bathtub Gin, Anthology, Nerve Cowboy, Avocet, and Tigers Eye. She has published two books of poems and has had poetry and prose accepted in several anthologies. Her work can be seen online at Shadow Poetry, Long Story Short, and Moontown CafĂ©. She recently recorded 4 poems for the Oregon Poetic Voices Project. They can be heard at One of her poems “Refuge”, was recently selected to be printed as a limited edition broadside by the Penland School of Crafts.

Take Time To:--By Annie Jenkin--England

Take Time To:

Watch a fly jump about on a floor,
Watch the ants industriously explore,
Watch a loose feather gently descend,
Watch how a breeze makes tall grasses bend,
Watch how the colour of flowers merge and blend,

Hear a honey bee searching for pollen,
Hear the sea gulls’ cry and commotion,
Hear a train leave the station,
Hear the water flow down a drain,
Hear a raindrop on a window pane.

Savour the taste of apple or pear,
Savour the smell of shampoo in hair,
Savour the rare sense of life being fair,
Savour the feeling of being able to care,
Savour the moment of a shared pleasure.

Feel the heat of the afternoon sun
Feel the satisfaction of a job well done,
Feel the sadness of those who are absent.
Feel the delight of giving a present,
Feel the warmth of a hand held tight.

Annie Jenkin lives in Plymouth, England. Having not written poetry for many years, Annie has returned to poetry writing with enthusiasm. Her writing explores several subject areas that are insightful, humorous but can also be sensitive.

A Day When Winter Said Goodbye--By Rick Parise--United States

A Day When Winter Said Goodbye

In the midst of morn she quietly rose
to greet the dawn of silent repose

She searched beyond the frozen hills
and through the bough's of crystal frills

She danced in dream as clouds rolled by
in hopes the sun would pierce the sky

As moments passed nil of light
the wind kicked up with all it's might

In tumbling turmoil the west winds raged
in fluttering beauty to turn the page

Within a breath a single sigh
the Winter wrath had waved goodbye

As sunlight burned of velvet white
upon her face a shaft of light...

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

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Elly Wouterse--Netherlands and Victoria Anderson Throop--Alaska, United States

Triptych of an Iceberg*

Birth of an iceberg

By Elly Wouterse and Victoria Anderson Throop

frost kissed mountain
vanished in molecules
memories settle birthing
an iceberg
crystal clear

fragile hearts
broken blue
married to sea green
forever severed
from a glacial safety
mighty jagged crack
in the groin of the sea
shaking ships on the horizon of its wake

nature's power
all consuming peak of joy
off and away
in the highest moment of bliss
beauty yearns
for the sky inhales the blue rips free

with a shattering cry of joy
breaks into thousand pieces
bobbing ....
sedately.... out to sea....

*The rest of this Triptych will be published in March at Whispers.

The Crying Candle--By Jan Allison--United Kingdom

The Crying Candle

I called my son... he said you were fading
The candle seemed to call my name
I watched its brightly flickering flame
The light from it shone bright in the dark
I was hypnotised by its golden glow
The wax melted slowly, so slowly
Like creamy liquid tears running down the sides
Drip, drip, drip, a silent puddle formed
Slowly, oh so gradually over time the wick decreased
Almost like your life was ebbing away
Getting smaller and weaker every second
The candle flame started to dim
Flickering, dancing, flickering, dancing
Fighting to stay alive with every ounce of its strengthen
Finally it flickers for the final time
It gave its final breath
Leaving a wisp of smoke
I imagined it was your spirit rising through the air
Ascending towards heaven

Jan Allison is a relative newcomer to poetry. She didn’t start writing poetry until her husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer and underwent surgery at the end of 2013. She wrote her first poem ‘Splendid Isolation’ whilst he was in hospital. Since then has discovered a love of poetry and has written over 500 poems. Jan also wrote collaboratively with her writing partner Darren Watson under the name Jadazzle United.

Dreams, Thoughts and Moments--By Robert Hewett Sr.--United States

Dreams, Thoughts and Moments

Every fanciful dream I dream at night
has you safe in my arms holding me tight.
Every little thought I think each day
has your beautiful eyes looking my way.
Each little moment of my daily life,
I have happy thoughts of you as my wife.
My every heartbeat is for your love.
I sing with the raindrops sent from above.
But, alas, such deep love can never be;
that love would be strong as an oak tree.
Even roses don’t last, not even for me.
Dreams are just wishful thinking.
Some dreams just leave my heart sinking.
Thoughts are gone as quick as blinking.
Moments never stay around very long
So love of my life I will sing you a song.

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 ""

Monday, February 23, 2015

Empty Chambers--By Robert A. Dufresne--United States

Empty Chambers

…Here it is!

It’s so cold in here.
 But the walls are still soft;
  …and the ceiling is higher than I remember.

It feels so still and morose.
 Even my thoughts echo within.

I have not dropped in on this empty abode for a while.
    There seems never to be enough time…. Too busy.

Look here.. and there. What a mess !
   Never did clean it up after she left.

No wonder I never visit here .

    Wonder where she went
after leaving this empty, cavernous
heart of mine…

  It‘s so cold in here….

I’d better go now….
Lots to do..


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 .


Brian Strand, an accomplished writer, generously offered to be the activity editor for another wonderful opportunity for writers.  He invited poets to explore his Septimal form.  The criteria for the form follows--

The Septimal is a three line poem in seven syllables 3:3:1 (or 1:3:3) with an integral title on the theme. Irony, parody and humor are often underlying features.

I would like to thank Brian for selecting these poems for publication and all the contributors that participated in this activity.  It is a growing experience to try new things and a pleasure to see so many wonderful poems below.  I hope you enjoy them.

                                            --Karen O’Leary, Whispers’ Editor

Father’s Cane by Robert Poulin

in my hand
I feel his

Imp Poetry by Ralph Stott

devil’s in
the detail

Blue Planet by Rick Parise

Perfect sphere-

The Night was so Cold by Sara Kendrick

The hound dog
curled by the

Another Last Chance by Barbara Tate

hunter's moon
the lone wolf

Come Closer by Brian Strand

was Seurat
making a

Cheaper by the Dozen by Charlene McCutcheon

planning for

Glitter Heels by Peggy Dugan French

how i miss
the click and

Emergency by Beth Winchcombe

dial for an

Ferlemanism by Rebecca Ferleman

Hubby and
two twin kids

Rush Hour by Rick Parise

Racing thoughts-
stalled traffic

Sightseeing Trip by Elizabeth Howard

Old Smoky
covered in

Long Term by Jim Teeters

to keep you

Painted Ladies by Karen O’Leary

homes with quaint

Cake by Joe Maverick

Eggs breaking
white and gold..

Young McDonald by Ralph Stott

day he will
own a farm

Weed Flowers by Robert Poulin

they don't know
no one loves

Two Golden Rings by Barbara Tate

midnight rain

Iceberg by Rick Parise

Sinking boat-
killer shark

Their Twitter Account by Ralph Stott

soon made a
# of it

Conceptual Art by Brian Strand

beyond my

A Sparkling Pathway--By Ali Znaidi--Tunisia

A Sparkling Pathway

Seen at a distance,
this pathway seems full
of sparkling gravel.

Last night, I dreamt
that I was gleaning
sparkles from that
very long pathway.

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

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Haibun for Papa--By Carl "Papa" Palmer--United States

Haibun for Papa

Unable to remember what happened yesterday, recall a name, date or telephone number, he will tell again and again every embarrassing detail of an event that happened twenty years ago.

stories about mommy
when she was young
grand girls laugh

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

Deep Inside--By Shirley Smothers--United States

Deep Inside

When I learned of my pregnancy
I burst with pride,
But then there was a pain
Deep inside.

The doctor informed me
The pregnancy had ended;
I felt my heart
Could never be mended.

The passage of time
has helped the pain subside,
But time to time, I shed a tear
Deep inside.

This child lives
in my heart,
I must confide,
Down deep inside.

Shirley Smothers is a poet. A few of her poems have appeared in Lone Stars Magazine, The Poets Art, and The Poetry Explosion Newsletter.

Friday, February 20, 2015

The Lonely Spirit--By Terry O’Leary--France

The Lonely Spirit

Midst sweet perfume
    of youthful bloom,
        the lonely spirit wars
and often cries
    and sometimes dies
        in quest of her amour.

Terry O’Leary defines himself as "A physicist lacking gravity...".

The Gift of Love--By Suzanne Clement--United States

The Gift of Love

O Lord, I ask I may not be
A stumbling block to those I see
As I live out my earthly life
In daylight hours or hours of night

And not be rude when I converse
By using fresh or hateful words
Or words that hurt or criticize
Or that will cause people to cry

Or do deeds that are bad to do
For that will not bring joy to you
But speak and act in ways of good
Since that is the way I should

Suzanne Clement is a writer from Dover, New Hampshire.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Old Rag Sonnet--By Robert A. Hall--United States

Old Rag Sonnet

A denim shirt that you have cast aside,
I know that I am frayed around the cuff,
A button gone, and I am worn enough
To make the mending hopeless, though you tried.
If I were jewelry or a fancy gown--
But faithful service never was the thing
Could make a shirt into a diamond ring,
So carelessly you smile, and put me down.

But you might put me in some corner drawer,
The sentimental way you'd save a friend,
For you might find some use for me again--
Wear me around the house, or mop the floor.
And I'd be handy wiping up the rain
That streaks like tears across your window pane.

Published in Share the Cup: Poetry of Love and Life by Robert A. Hall. Available on Amazon. Royalties go to the Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation

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.

Stargazer--By James Andrew Fraser--Scotland


Amidst greenery
Such beauty abounds in bloom
Reaching to the sky
This Oriental Lily
Shows gorgeous colouration

James Andrew Fraser resides in Inverness, the Capital of the Highlands, Bonnie Scotland. He is married with four lovely children. Andrew, Steven, Rebekah and Liam. James has been writing poetry for about four years. He is a member of Poetry Soup where many poets have allowed his work to prosper, especially Carolyn Devonshire who has guided and inspired him.  His hobbies apart from poetry are music, art and football. You can read more of his poetry at his website 

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The Bluebird Flew Away--By Gerald Heyder--United States

The Bluebird Flew Away

Gone is lilac scented breeze
along with summer’s glow,
no symphony of autumn leaves
just silent winter snow.
Gone is hearty party joke
replaced by tears of pain;
a heavy wooden oxen yoke
in lieu of locket chain.
Gone is the photo of day
through negative of the night,
darkness of distant stars
due to pale moonlight.
Gone are the yesterdays
with tomorrows yet to be,
behind diaphanous veil
they slip into eternity.
Lost are youthful dreams
through innocence that went astray;
gone is nature’s sweetest song--
the bluebird flew away.

Gerald Heyder is a published poet from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

I Do Not Know You--By Jim Teeters--United States

I Do Not Know You

I do not know you
Slum of Santiago, Chile

I see your sweltering roofs
of corrugated metal
as we speed by in our
air conditioned airport shuttle

I do not see your dwellers
who I imagine go off to
richer streets to beg, perform, or sell

Perhaps the juggler of three limes
blocking the traffic lane, who hopes
for an appreciative payment
is from you
or maybe the man
soliciting to wash windshields
in the busy intersection is too

I only can guess for I am now flying
over the snowcapped Andes
cup of wine on my tray table

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.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

a water paradox--By Frances Simwinga--Malawi

a water paradox

Time and again I like to sip
a little of you, feel you drip down
my throat, leaving a stain on my lip,
that way my life you humbly sustain.

You are seen by many as simple
and in sync with life when fairly ample,
but the blight you possess when in excess,
or when you are scarce scant and erratic,
has unveiled the animosity in you.

You have hailed down untold grief
on my kids, my wife and my life;
my garden wilting at your absence,
or being swept away at your abundance,
sparing no elite, no destitute,
yet time and again I still need you closer.

Frances Simwinga is a budding poet. He has discovered healing in poetry. He happens to be biased towards slam poetry but greatly enjoys the written word too. This poem was inspired by the floods that have caused havoc to human life recently in the southern parts of the Malawi.

In Memoriam--By Ronald Grognet--United States

In Memoriam

friend’s untimely death—
    a perfect winter storm

sudden lethal stroke--
   survivors speechless

hospice was set up---
I thought they would stay longer

her haunting fragrance lingers---
    even-though she's gone

the eerie quiet---
   of a cold misty morning

Ronald Grognet is a retired Clinical Psychologist who practiced private individual and family therapy for thirty-five years. He lived and worked in Washington D.C., and Sarasota, FL before retiring in New Orleans to be close to his grandsons. Besides his volunteer time spent on disaster assignments for the Red Cross, he fills his time devoted to haiku poetry. His interest in poetry came as a gift in retirement. Reading an article about haiku filled with many examples, he recognized its similarity to the reflective stance of the meditation he practiced for many years. He has vigorously pursued its study for the last two years, personally experiencing its healing and enlightening qualities.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Oh, Chocolate!--By Marlene Million--United States

Oh, Chocolate!

Thick and creamy ooey gooey
drippy drops dollops of rich
dark satin dabble it hot slurp it
lick it lap it sip it lovingly

chips and chunks bars nonpareils
swirl it twirl it fudgy syrupy sprinkled
double-filled slivers and shaves
how we rave

convicted addicted to the thick
twice-dipped ripples of delight
soothing balm to the palate
pudding truffles savor the flavor

covered over cherries
sundaes malts Cafe Mocha
cocoa beans are happy indeed!

Marlene Million is a retired insurance secretary from her husband's business and grandmother of four. She has published two chapbooks and belongs to several writers’ groups. She had a poem on display at Indianapolis Arts Garden the month of February, 2013 and has been published in a variety of venues.

Reflections of Love--By Yvonne Sparkes--England

Reflections of Love

Love is many different things,
To each of us, it brings,
Sometimes a joy, sometimes despair
Or stronger passions living there.

It can reveal itself with sighs,
Or a deluge from on high
Contradicting in it’s phase,
With turbulent, unsettling days.

The emotions that we often feel,
Seem so very, very real,
Just to find the object meets,
Our own sweet sorrow and defeat.

What is love? I’ll never find,
Answers to questions in my mind,
Truth and loyalty are rare,
And seemed beyond my knowing there.

But, those who gleam to find the best,
Who dwell with love that’s passed the test,
Are blessed to know a precious gift,
To dwell content where `er they live.

Born on Feb. 27, 1940 in Barkingside, Essex, England, Yvonne Sparkes,  immigrated to New York in April, 1948 with her parents.  She now resides in Chelmsford, Essex and has two sons.  She has a book published by Cyberwit called Captured Images.  A writer for many years, Yvonne has been published in Israel, Germany, France, Australia, America, and Britain.  She has read her poetry in public at Church and Knockout Competitions. Her hobbies are travel, the arts, reading, hiking, taking her Scottish Terrier for walks, and spending time with family and friends.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

ode to alliteration--By jani johe webster--(In Memory-May 2013)--United States

jani johe shared her unique style and insight which left readers in awe.  But more importantly, she was a bright light in the writing community, always ready to support others in their journeys.  I am glad to have been able to call her my friend.  Her words live on in various publications, continuing to be a gift to the world.        --Sincerely, Karen O’Leary--Editor

ode to alliteration

beacons of books
windows of words
days of dreams
hours of hope
pillars of peace
stories in stars
magic in moonlight
freedom of fiction
    winding wonders
        along pathways of poetry
            circling our souls

This poem was recently published in Where the Poems Dance, a collection of her poetry and photography by Suzanne Webb.  It includes an introduction by her daughter, Nila Webster, and reflection questions about the poems to stimulate the imagination of the reader.

Poet of the Month--Christine Tate

Autumn on the Coast

By Christine Tate

The autumn moon plays peek a boo
behind ominous clouds,
casting ghostly shadows
on charming coastal towns.
Its orange hue shines
on landscapes down below,
where you can see candles
in many windows glow!

Along narrow streets and alleys
leaves swirl and spin,
while lingering towns folk scurry
seeking shelter from the wind.
You can hear the roar
of the ocean down the block,
as thundering waves crash
on slippery, clustered rocks.

Rows and rows of pumpkins
scattered in the fields,
dry corn husks sit idle
after harvest's yield.
Pick some juicy apples,
buy cider at a stand,
or stroll along the shore
with a loved one hand in hand.

Autumn warms the heart,
a delightful time to be
in a coastal village
with friends and family!

From the editor--It is an pleasure to announce that Christine Tate is February’s Poet of the Month.  She is a talented writer that has been published in print and online.  Readers at Whispers relate to her heartfelt poetry.  Christine is an uplifting voice at our online journal, regularly leaving thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  Her encouragement is a gift that makes a difference. It is a pleasure to present Christine with this honor!

Thoughts on “Autumn on the Coast ”--The opening line’s personification sets the tone for this creative poem.  The playful style gives the reader an enjoyable experience that is sure to have you smiling.  Christine’s skillful use of multi-sense imagery allows one to feel what she has to convey.  Her poem makes me want to sit back with a mug of cider and enjoy time with family and friends too.

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


Karen O’Leary, Editor

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

lotus position
rhythmic breathing exercise
searching for nothing

spring thaw
ice jam breaking
recycled tears

rays of sunlight
capturing dust motes

tiny stream of smoke
rising up from the bushes
a broken promise

Robert P. Hansen teaches philosophy courses at a community college. In addition to poetry, he also writes genre fiction. His recent eBook publications include a free Story Sampler (14 stories from his collections), The Golden Key (Book 3 of his Angus the Mage fantasy series), and 2014: A Year of Poetry. For more information on his writing and where to find what he has published, visit his blog at:

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Sea Daffodils--By Paul Callus--Malta

Sea Daffodils

On the island of Comino*
Naked rocks are burning hot,
Without mercy, sun at midday
Robs the shade from every spot.

It’s a bare, desolate area,
Here the snakes are free to crawl,
Lazy lizards meditating
Where the gnarled wild bushes sprawl.

I trudge on towards the inlet
Drawn by water cyan blue;
It’s deserted and inviting
For it’s known only to few.

I arrive and there to greet me
On dry sand a wondrous sight
I behold sensual, alluring
Virgin flowers dressed in white. 

*Comino is one of the islands that
   form the Maltese Archipelago

Paul Callus is a Maltese author who writes both in Maltese and English. He has contributed to several anthologies. Apart from poetry he writes lyrics for songs and has published two books, one a story book aimed at children (related to his experience as a teacher) and a historical book based on research.