Category Archives: Poetry

Poems: You Probably Won’t Ever Find This In An Anthology, But…

Oh. My. Goodness. I was going through some of my grandfather’s things this weekend and found a letter written on the back of a typed poem. The letter was dated in 1945 while my grandfather was still serving in the Army, but when I started reading the poem I bust out laughing. For some reason my grandpa held onto this for more than fifty years! WTH?! ūüėÄ

Just, um, as a warning, the poem isn’t explicit, but it’s implicitly explicit… FYI for my few younger readers and those who don’t care for such things.¬†
Hope you’re as amused by this as I was!



Book of the Month – Author Unknown
Suzzanne was a lady
with plenty of class
who knocked them all dead
when she wiggled her
Eyes at the fellows
as girls sometimes do
to make it quite plain
that she wanted to
Take in a movie
or go for a sail
and hurry home
for a piece of
Cake or ice cream
And a slice of roast duck
and after each meal 
she was ready to
Go for a ride
or a stroll on the dock
with any young man
with a sizable
Roll of big bills
and a pretty big front
and if he talked fast
she would show him her
Little pet dog
who was subject to fits
and maybe she’d let him
take hold of her
Little white hands
with a movement so quick
why she’d reach right out
and tickle his
Chin while she showed him
a trick learned in France
and asked the poor fellow
to take off his
Coat while she sang
off the Mandalay shore
for whatever she was
Suzanne was a bore.

Writing: Doing What Scares You

I don’t know who said it originally, but whoever it was is right: “You should do the thing that scares you.” Or something close to that, anyway.

Now this doesn’t mean that if you’re afraid of poisonous spiders you should go buy one for a pet (some fears are survival-based, after all), but it does mean that you shouldn’t let thinking you can’t or shouldn’t do something keep you from ever trying it.

As writers this could mean many things. Maybe tackling a particular genre, or subject, or style, or narrative voice. Maybe someone told you men can’t write believable female voices. Maybe you think no one will read a book written in the second person. Maybe you think you suck at memoirs. Maybe you’re right about all these things, but are you right because you tried and failed or because you’re too scared to make the attempt?

Poetry is not my thing. Never has been. I like reading some–The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, for example, is great–but writing it has always seemed too hard. I have this in my head despite the fact that my AP high school English teacher–a woman who was notoriously stingy with compliments–told me that the poem I turned in as a response to Eve’s Apology in Defense of Women was one of the best things she’d ever seen at a high school level.¬†If interested, you can read an excerpt of the poem here (the original, not mine) and I found this awesome comic strip here.

That being said, I started writing a book about two musicians and knew going into it that I would need to come up with song lyrics. I think that somewhere in the back of my head I had the vague idea of asking someone else to do it for me, but how realistic is that? And do I really want to rely on someone else’s vision for something as important as this? Nope. I don’t. I shut off my inner editor and started writing–I mean, it’s a first draft, right? Things can always be changed down the road.

I surprised myself. This writing form that I’d kept away from so long is suddenly consuming me. I’m writing more songs than I can possibly squeeze into the book (and I’m squeezing them in anyway, hoping most of them will make it through the editing process) and I’m actually liking them! I’m going to take a chance and post the song I wrote this morning. Keep in mind it’s a first draft, but feel free to tell me what you think!


Staring out my window
Dreaming of the sky 
Locked here in this tower 
Tho no one else knows why 
You appear then out of nowhere 
And try to help me fly 
And stare uncomprehending 
When I shake my head and sigh 
Your white horse don’t belong here 
But then, of course, if you’re sincere 
Won’t force this rescue till you here 
Why my tower’s worth fighting for, dear 
Cause what you didn’t see 
When you came barging through the door 
Is that the lock you broke through 
The one now lying on the floor 
Was done up on the inside 
And then, of course, what’s more 
Your horse stomped through my roses 
And I’m left with the chore 
Of picking up the pieces 
Of my once strong oak wood door 
Your white horse don’t belong here 
But then, of course, if you’re sincere 
Won’t force this rescue till you here 
Why my tower’s worth fighting for, dear 
Cause they may call me Cinderella 
But I’d much rather be 
The girl who stands up by your side 
Cause fallin’ behind ain‚Äôt me¬†
So take your horse and ride off 
Come back when you can see 
The truth behind my tower 
How the walls aren’t what they seem 
You think they’re meant to keep me in 
But in actuality 
That strong red brick I built by hand 
Wasn’t meant for me 
Wanted to keep the world out 
But now that I’m set free 
How ‚Äėbout you and your horse¬†
Come fix these walls for me?