The play would beginWhere I’d skip, bow and spinAnd I waited for daddy to see - to see …Daddy to see only “Me”In my sweet little Alice Blue GownMomma’ sewed my dress To match with the rest Girls giggled and primped and squealed The sewing machine...
In the silent sanctuary of a misty morninga lone juniper stands beyond our windowon the shoreline of Four Mile Pond Spring wraps her fog around burgeoning new needlesand the ancient silent stones who accompany herA robin bounds from a branch unto the silky, moist...
“I don’t create poetry, I create myself. For me, my poems are a way to me”. Edith SodergranIn grade five I wrote my first poemcalled, “Winter"in a little, red schoolhouseon a little, small deskwith my little, small handThe teacher promised to publish it.I think she...
I came into the ’12 Step Recovery World’ over 30 years ago, ab“soul” utely b-r-o-k-e-n, having fallen beside the hearts of those who had walked before me to eventually crawl myself back into a body of dignity, hope and strength. One year ago, I found ACA and it is...
I first wrote this poem on December 24th, 2004, as a response to childhood experiences when I remembered how I fled to the natural safety of the fields and flowers after I was cruelly beaten for minor disobediences. Initially I used the word ‘GOD’ as the key word in...
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