A writer always starts on a canvas of white. Let us begin...

My first creative expression was writing.  I loved writing.  I created my first book when I was 10 or 11 years old.  It was a book of poems.  A compilation of my work and work from classmates.  I had chapters and pictures...  It was put into a beautiful cover and it was thick.  In those days, you didn't have computers, so this was all hand done or on a typewriter.  I was so proud.  I loved it.  I showed it to my father and after looking at a couple of pages handed it back to me with a smirk saying, "This looks like something a bunch of kids wrote."  I was devastated.  At the time, I was too emotional about it to realize I could have said, "Yeah, a bunch of kids did write this."  Instead, I wounded and his disapproval of something I had worked so very hard on shook me.  Now, I know my father didn't mean to squash my joy and enthusiasm; nor my creativity.  I know this because I confronted him about it when I became and adult.  But, from then on, all my writing that wasn't for school, was put into a diary.  Mostly, small black books that you get from an art store.  I never showed anyone again my poems or short stories.  Never.  

Then, in my late 30's, I dated a guy who read me his poetry.  He had volumes of poetry.  And, no matter how corny any of it was, he loved reading his poetry.  He inspired me, to share mine.  So, I called him up one day and left him a message reading one of my shorter poems over the phone:


A rose has nothing on you

     nor a mountain

     or a rare blue and clear sky.

The song of a bird

     could never match your voice

The feel of silk

     roughly compares to your skin.

The light from your eyes

     oh, so deadens the sun

And the movement of your body

     could rival a wave.

You are the perfect vision

     of my imagination

So kiss me

     and let me taste what pure sweetness was meant to be.  

I was too chicken to read him any of my writings in person.  He called me back praising the poem I read and questioned me several times in disbelief, "You wrote that? No... come on... where did you find that piece?  You WROTE that?"  Ah -- he and I soon stopped dating, but the inspiration he gave me lit a fire in my belly.  A few years later, my first one person show was born, then my second, then a third, then other things... and, here I am.  I still have so much further to go with my writing, but I'm doing it.  I'm writing and I'm not afraid to share any more.  

So check out my poems, short stories and a few of the published works to date.  This will inspire you, uplift you and bring you comfort in times that are challenging and support the good that is flowing through your life right now!


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