It really began with "The Swing."  I heard it, I read it, I memorized it, I wrote it, and then I wrote my own poem.  I was in love.  Truely infatuated with words.  Ripple, why that rhymes with pimple-and I was off writing a poem about pimples on that boy's face.  Before long though, maybe eighth grade, I found out I Was No Good at rhyming poems, or so the teacher said.

Now, don't let me give teachers a bad rap, I was one for 32 years, but you don't ever tell a child they are no good at something.  Especially something they love and cherish beyond all other things.  Boys, forget them I had my poetry.

I wrote my first 'good' poem when I was 23.  I was living in the attic of my parents home.  No one should ever have to live in an attic, but there I was, writing poems, playing my guitar, and working for a department story in the daytime.  There was something about living in a musty attic that brought out my muse.  That and the constant buzz of the street noise below.

So why begin to write, even if you have written a good poem under these conditions?  Because you love it, of course!  Every day since, 40 years, (well, okay maybe not every day-just a saying) I write or read a poem.  I even wrote a novel, where, of course the main character was also writing poetry within the book.  I still love new words, too.  I love putting them into my poetry.  Like, "Aubade of Love," or  "Syncope."   Do I rhyme; no.  Am I glad I don't; yes.  It's my love story and I expect to still be in love 30 years from now.  "...Up in the air so blue./ Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing ever a child can do..."