I've never really been into poetry much. Reading it, that is. The first poem I ever wrote was at the University of Utah. I had a Musical Theatre class where our first assignment was to write a poem about ourselves. I sat down in the computer lab in our dorm and cranked out 7 or 8 dinky little poems about myself all rhyming and grammatically incorrect like 'Came to Do' and 'Failing'. I turned in the 'Failing' poem and graded an 'A'. I ended up with an 'F' in that class. Had an issue with the teacher.
When I was a kid I used to type up old Shel Silverstein poems at my grandpa's house and try to pass them off as my own. In school I don't recall ever studying poetry except maybe in elementary school with "I eat my peas with honey. I've done it all my life. It makes the peas taste funny but it keeps them on my knife." ...And then in jr. high I seem to remember an attempt at limericks with "There once was a man from Peru who dreamt he was eating his shoe. He awoke in the night in terrible fright and found it was perfectly true." just before I was kicked out of class for talking by Mrs. Whateverhernamewas.

I really tried my hand at it after being at work one day and coming across www.poetry.com. I submitted a poem I wrote while staring out the window. I was embarrassed about it after it won the contest because it wasn't something I put any effort into at all and to have it published I thought was silly. That was Another Season. Since then I have written a few more. Typically they've been quite long and I seldom go back and revise them once they are written (just like any paper I ever wrote in school). I feel like revising them takes the true meaning and emotion out even though I've read you should never leave a poem 'as is'. I just don't like to over-think them and the ones I plan out before writing seem to take months and don't sound as genuine if they ever get written at all.

A Simple Summer Rainstorm was written about my experience with cancer. Developing a brain tumor was such an obscure thing; where would such a thing sprout, why and how. The only thing I can think of was when I was about 10 or 11. There were a lot of kids in the neighborhood I grew up in. We rode our bikes constantly and one of our favorite things to do when we could scrounge up enough change was to ride our bikes the mile or so it was to the gas station and buy some candy. One particular late afternoon we were heading out and it started to rain. Everyone turned back but Tad and I who decided it would be fun to ride around in the rain and get wet. It was summer for crying out loud! A few minutes later we were struck by lightening, I ditched Tad and flew home. By the time I got there I was nauseous and sick with a migraine. The rubber on our tires was all that saved us from electrocution. So in this poem I have made that event the possible cause of developing a brain tumor several years later and how it affected other events in my life at the time surrounding it's discovery, removal and treatments.

The Great Reminder is also a cancer related poem. It's really more geared toward the seizures that I experienced constantly compared to a tragic experience I had swimming the 200 I.M. my senior year at state. It compares the emotions and feelings I experience in each seizure very near what I experienced during that race and how each seizure will forever be a reminder to me of it and how I will never, as long as I continue to have seizures, be free of the tragedy of that day.
Adrenaline- Peace of Mind... BLACK!
It's interesting to me also that Fyodor Dostoevsky suffered from Temporal Lobe Seizures his whole life and I once read a description his biographer wrotewho used many of the same words I used in my poem to describe mine. Funny, but that alone has turned me to learn more about that author and enrich my life by his works.


Model Gallery

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