A long journey to become an author,
Days of soul searching and hard work.
The words need to be enticing and clear,
A bridge to the reader’s heart.

A movie camera sweeps across scenes,
So does a book’s point of view.
One point of view shows one angle
While changing points of view reveal more.

To be lost in a book is indeed a gift,
An escape from the mundane and boring.
A visit to far away places can be
An adventure to open your mind’s eye.

Once completed, a book is a treasure,
A symbol of the author’s hopes and dreams.
A confectioner’s delight to be tasted and savored,
To be remembered by the many or just a few.






Please wash away my sorrow and pain.
Let it flow down the streets with the rain.
Dissolved in torrents of despair and sadness,
Joining others on its way past the madness.

The ocean may take it far away
To places, we cannot even say,
Where no one recognizes its sting 
Or knows the infliction it can bring.

Let the rain grow harder with its might,
Becoming hail on this fateful night.
I want to be free of all traces
Of unwanted feelings and faces.

My body grows cold from the rain.
It stands clean and free from the pain.
Shivers create a path on my spine
As I wait in the dark woods of pine.

I hold my head high to the wet spray;
It becomes a mist of blue and grey.
The faucet has turned off for the night,
Leaving me feeling clean and so right.




I sit alone by the table.
I hear voices.
Sounds of movement.
Sounds of life.

I reach out.
I feel something smooth.
A plate.
A meal.

Smells tickle my nose.
Aromas of chicken.
Sweet smells of pudding.
Smells of life.

What color is the food?
Is the sun shining?
Are the faces around me young or old?
So many questions.

Questions I can’t answer,
I’ve never been able to answer.
For I’ve been blind,
Living in the dark for years.

The nursing home is now my prison.
I sit alone, 
Ignored by the staff,
Poked by the nurses.

This is not the ending
I would have envisioned for myself. 
A darkness too encompassing.
A sadness too overwhelming. 





Alone can be refreshing,

A walk in the cold snow.

Lonely can be depressing,

A silence that hits you low.


Can we distinguish between the two,

As we listen to our heart’s song?

Our time alone is so rare and few,

Refreshing until it feels wrong.


At this moment I feel alive,

Alone but not lonely in my own place.

My dark spirit yearns to survive,

As I raise my happy face.




I’m lost,

Drowning in despair,

Falling deeper into sorrow.

I want to let go,

And sink to the bottom,

My head submerged.

With no fight left in me,

No will to go on,

The darkness will take me.

Into its arms,

I willingly go.

I’m ready to surrender

To the everlasting void.