As you can see by my website, I am a visual artist who likes to work in drawing, painting , and collage.

I never had a desire to write poetry. In college I took one poetry English class. I did not understand much of what was discussed. Phrase construction and metaphors with different meanings were mystery to me. I managed to pass the class with a grade of B, but never really enjoyed poetry.

Something very unusual happened to me in 2014. From February through to the following year in the summer 2015, I was inspired to write over 150 poems. Before this I had tried to write one poem. All of the sudden I was writing sometimes as many as four poems in one day.

Certain events in my life must have triggered something that caused me to write poetry. My mother-in-law , who was 94 years old, fell and broke her wrist. She had always helped me whenever I needed her assistance. Thus began a downward spiral, and in May of 2014 she passed away. It was a very difficult time for our family. Even when someone has such advanced age, it is very difficult to know you are losing them forever from this earth.

I began waking up in the middle of the night between 3 and 5 AM. I’m usually a very sound sleeper and this was not a normal situation for me. I began thinking about poetry. At first I just tried to ignore it. However, I would stay awake and not be able to fall asleep again. Finally I decided to write down the words that seem to come so easily in the early morning hours. I couldn’t write these words down fast enough with a ballpoint pen so I used a colorful marker that children use for drawing because it slid faster on the page as I wrote.

Included are some of the poems and a link to the full book I wrote of over 150 poems. You can read the book for free and judge whether or not you think it is poetry.

Carrousel Studios
Carrousel Studios
Carrousel Studios


I hurried by,…….. never noticing the splash of color
singing in the sunshine.
I hurried by, never seeing the delicate lines of the pedals
strong against the dark leaves.
I hurried by, unaware of the most
glorious gift of Spring.
I hurried by.


“Thank you Lord for keeping me dry the day the hard rains came.”
I will say again,
“thank you Lord for keeping me dry the day the hard rains came.”
Though I did not have to go very far, I was fortunate
to make it to a very safe place.
Of wind, hail, and storm, for me there was no trace.
“Thank you Lord for keeping me dry the day the hard rains came.”
Just another day like any other gray day,
I thought the wind would soon blow the drifting clouds away.
First a patch of blue and then a patch of gray sky was coming my way.
Shafts of sunlight in the sky would break through the gray, as if to say
“don’t worry about the clouds in your life,
they will soon blow away.”
Strong and powerful the approaching Spring storm did come.
With it came the darkness that blots out the sun.
The wind so mightily did increase,
next came small bits of hail, and at last the final release,
of large hail, wind and rain so strong,
I would’ve been drenched to the skin
if only moments I had stayed unprotected too long.
Yet…………… safely to my destination I did go.
Why my so blessed, I do not know.
“Thank you Lord for keeping me dry, the day the hard rains came.”


Birds are like natures tiny jewels.
They adorn so many things.
Birds adorned the trees, bushes and leaves.
They even adorn the lakes and the seas
Birds are not bound by any man-made rules,
they fly forever free,
only very seldom seen by so many people like me.
Some birds are dressed in modest colors of
grays, browns, and even white.
Some birds are dressed in colors
of brilliant reds, blues, green and gold.
How many interesting stories
of their journeys could be told?
Flying from low to the ground to mountains high,
they drift on the wind currents in the sky.
Birds know no border or defined boundary,
for they fly over land and sea,
so seemingly effortlessly and so gracefully.
Did you ever wonder why only the birds can sing?

No other creature on earth
without special training, such joy can bring.
I have seen the geese flying so high.
How do they ever know
exactly where to go with winter is neigh?
These are natures treasures design to fly so gracefully.
Now at last I am able to see,
what a wonderful place our earth is designed to be.
In so many simple ways,
small creatures of the earth give comfort,
and bring great pleasure to me.

Carrousel Studios

The Drum

Tell me grandfather about the drum.
The old man stringy gray hair dangling on his shoulders
sat on the front porch under a faded and tattered awning
with green and white stripes
shielding him from the warm morning sun.
His fingers traced over the top of the drum
touching the cracking surface,
stroking it tenderly
as a mother caressing her newborn child.

Long-ago……….. In a time when our people were strong
this little drum held an honored place.
He told his grandson of times of joy and dancing………
In times of celebrating and singing,
this drum held a special and meaningful rhythm.
The drum sang of pain…………… and prayed for rain.
The drum is silent now.
There are no more dreams.

A single tear traced its way
down the old man’s weathered and wrinkled face.
Looking up he saw his grandson’s worried face.
A beautiful young face in shades of Brown,
with thick black hair streaming all around.
He pause for a moment…. and to his grandson and said,
“I was wrong.”

Hold this old and worn drum in your hands.
Remember who you are and who you were born to be.
Listen to the drum for even if it is old
and worn,……… it has many stories to be told.
Listen to the stories well.
There are so many stories to tell.
Learn from those who have gone before and understand
though times were hard
they persevered and stayed with the land.

They faced war, starvation, and extinction
but were very brave.
They went through hardships to save you,
………………………………….. the next generation.

You are here because of their sacrifice.
You are here because of their life.

Be strong and carry your burden well.
Someday far away
you will be a grandfather with stories to tell.”


He sat in his old easy chair by the fire burning bright,
it was late in the evening on a cold winter’s night.
He watched his little girl dance.

She was a tiny little child not yet three
as she danced to the music, she never saw me.
Her daddy saw her sway and twirl,
this lovely, graceful little girl.
He watched his little girl dance.

When she was eight years old, she danced
with other little girls dressed in sparkling clothes.
They were dancing and twirling
to the rhythm of the music in three rows.
He watched his little girl dance

It was a joyous celebration to which
all the relatives and friends had come.
In all the crowd there was not one
face that was not smiling with delight.
The party went on all through the night.

In the arms of a tall and handsome young man,
she was tightly held as they swayed
in rhythm to the music that was played.
Her dress was the color of the purest snow.
Soon into the night the two of them would go.
He watched his little girl dance.