Follow Me

Category: A Writer’s Life

Did I Ever Really Know You

Did I Ever Really Know You

I had to say “goodbye” today, you said it once before

To me when we were young and I was not your type

Or so it seemed…

And now you say you were shy and unsure and I was so

Much more than you ever thought you could have,

That’s not the you I remember.

But now I think the you I know is too quick with words

That you think I want to hear.

Alarm bells have sounded and now I must go for the you

I now know is not the you I once knew and I wonder

Did I ever really know you at all?

Copyright 2010



I can’t focus

I can’t think

The wanderlust is growing

It’s time to go,

I feel it so

With each degree it rises

The winter sun now getting hot

My patience is imploding

I loved it here

Our home away

My favorite destination

Now with each day

I fight my restlessness

Homes boarded up

Cupboards locked

Our neighbors have gone north

We are alone

I hate to moan

But it’s time we move on

My inner spirit warns

Yesterday it spoke

It was no joke

It’s voice was loud and clear

I’m done with here

This cross to bear

The Wanderers must depart.

Copyright 2008

The Writer

The Writer

I’m floundering


Too scared to know

Where to begin

I’m lost in a maze

Of confusion

Not knowing where

To start and

where to end.

There are so many stories


A thousand voices calling

My name.

All pleading for

My attention.

At Seventeen

At Seventeen

I once wrote a book of poems,

From start to finish, fifty pages,

I was seventeen, young, innocent

The words poured from my soul

A never ending flood of emotion,

Beauty and passion,

My life began at seventeen

The real me came forth,

And yet, four weeks later, my bliss ended

The real me denied, my nightmare resumed,

It was a matter of survival,

Live a life of constant emotional pain

Abuse at the hands of those closest

To me, or dump ashes on my budding

Persona, smothering my youth’s attempt

To grow,

I had no choice, accused of the worst

Wretched offense, I gave in, gave up,

I denied my true nature, my true self

Consumed in a bonfire, I watched my

Fifty pages go up in smoke, my penance

For one month of freedom, One month

Of discovering who I truly was, and am,

It was decades later that I fully embraced

What I learned at seventeen,

No further atonement, no denial,

The beauty within me allowed to resurface,

The bud became a flower, the flower

A growing bush, blossoming, thriving,

Never more contained with chains of fear,

I am who I am and who I’ve always been

For that I am grateful, now I am complete,

And so I say to all who find a gift, a beauty within,

Embrace it, love it, enjoy it but do not deny it,

For with the squelching of that passion growing within you

Comes a price,

A price your youth cannot understand,

For to negate your innermost being is to forsake

Your true nature and forever live a life less than whole,

And to never know your true ability to feel, to love and be loved,

Instead your life will be forever tainted, that special, unique piece

That makes you who you truly are, missing,

The life you are living,

A fraction of who you were meant to be.

Copyright 2015



Why this feeling of anxiety?

I’ve been consumed by it everyday

As though something is missing in my life

I miss having a library to spend countless hours writing

Or researching

I miss fresh air and sunshine

And long to have a balcony to relax on

Without the feeling of being pent up

In a box!

I miss stores and malls to escape to

I miss peace of mind and large bank accounts

I think we’ve been down here far too long

At this the sandy bottom of the US

I don’t long for open roads but rather open spaces

To allow my mind to soar as needed.

I am not made for pent up closures

I am not made for rules or restrictions

I am made for life and living

And breathing

And the endless flight

Of a creative mind.

Am I Wrapped in a Layer of Ambiguity?

Am I Wrapped in a Layer of Ambiguity?

I am lost in the daze of an unfamiliar fog

Mentally drained, emotionally depleted and

Physically? Restless, yes, I yearn to walk

Among the colorful landscapes of my youth,

Where reds and golds and browns layered

The ground while filling the sky above my head,

I long for chilly temperatures and the light of

Jack-a-lanterns …and the dresses and long capes

We wore back then, I long for the fellowship of

Family, the songs, the dancing, the merriment as

We embraced the natural world long gone…

I was different then, I was wild and free, and we

Were…hunted,  we did not fit their ideal,

We were strange and our naturalness was

Unnatural in their eyes, we were a threat, and so

They chased us and imprisoned us, and ultimately,

Burned us, but not to rid the earth of us, but rather

To purge their own damaged souls…, Is this why

I feel so restless? Are the memories of who and what

I was returning? Am I denying my true self?

Perhaps that is why I yearn for the simple ‘ness

Of yesterday and the love of the family and friends

Long gone…but I wonder, are the lives we live today real?

Or a lie, a search for fulfillment as we strived to hide

The truth of who we are inside, Or maybe, that’s just me.

Copyright 2014

Fleeting Bliss

Fleeting Bliss

The rain upon the desert falls

Drenching it’s sweet moisture

Upon the cacti, tall arms lifted up

Embracing the not-so-gentle drops

As in the distance lightning stabs the

Dark sky while thunder, like a rude

House guest, disrupts this fleeting bliss.

The Muse, the Knife and the Football

The Muse, the Knife and the Football

I love to write

When words slide smoothly

As butter from a hot knife,

I love to write when

Ideas flow as quickly

As a brook in spring thaw,

I love to write

When my muse whispers words

So clear that my fingers can’t keep up,

I love to write

During the quiet hours when no

One interrupts my thoughts,

But not today

The stories dance around my head

Visually, I can see the characters and

The narrative, even the dialogue,

But somehow from point A to point B

Something is lost, And

Writing today is like a dull knife

Cutting a football.

I am Free!

I am Free!

I am Free!

Joy, happiest joy,

This writer writes, this poet sings

With words, emotional and strong

Gushing forth like a river on a sun dried land.

Sweet vulnerability, intoxicating happiness,

Though once imprisoned,

I have been set free!

My expressions once so bruised, so pained

Now minus scar and matured with age.

Joy, overwhelming joy,

How wonderful to find

My gift intact,

My words, once hidden now exposed.

Bliss, enraptured bliss, elation,

As I experience sensations missing for so long.

Dreams long withheld finding wings again.

A smile curls my lips as I embrace my soul.

Oh sweet ado, my words are lost no more!

I have traveled many years to be in this time, this place

Where freedom lifts my soul

And I am once again, made whole.


Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word :)