I have been an artist since I was around the age of 9 years old. It started with drawing as a small child. Drawing started as a hobby for me around the time my cousin Tina tragically died. It was my first experience with Death and at the time I idolized her, as an artist and always wished I could draw. I would sit and watch her for hours. After her death I began drawing myself. I practiced at it every day and carried art supplies everywhere I went. Drawing always gave me joy and it took me to a world where I could imagine the characters I draw in fairy tales, stories, and different times and places.

As I got older I decided I wanted to be an artist and took every art class I could get my hands on. Drawing, photography, painting, sculpture, wood shop, pottery, graphic design, and anything else I could get my hands on. I couldn’t get enough of it. As a childĀ I had it very rough, I can’t remember when exactly I picked up paper and a pen and starting writing but it’s almost like I would go into a trance. I would put the pen to paper and not even realize I was writing until the words were out of me. I’d look at the paper and think, wow! I wrote that?

Unlike art, I really have to be in a certain mood for the words to flow. It’s almost like I get to a point where I can’t speak, I have no words left to say or can’t figure out exactly how to approach a topic and the words pour out of me. They are more clear and coherent in times of sadness and grief. I never realize this until I went back over and read a lot of my writing over a 3 year long period. It always carries a certain “deep” undertone or heavy theme.

I could go on and on but I am rambling before putting on a brave face here. Here are some of my published poems from over the years.

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