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Hi Amanda,

I will be seventy years old on March 29th. Throughout my lifetime I have tried my best to save all of my poems and writings. However, during the seventeen years that I was in prison (I mean married to my ex-wife) I had accumulated four, four subject notebooks with poems on every single page. I had written one poem that was four pages long. It was about a young boy that felt alone in the world and one evening as he said his prayers he prayed that someday he would find a better life. He found himself engulfed by what appeared to be a huge bubble and floated out the window. Rather than being frightened this boy was excited because he saw the beauty of the stars, he peaked into homes where parents and children were laughing and he saw all the goodness that he world had to offer. He floated down to a land that seamed to be untouched by humans. The bubble popped and he began to explore his surroundings. He was amazed to see animals that were grazing together without fear of one another, and trees abindant with fruit. He walked through a small patch of wooded area to a beach that seamed to shimmer in the sunlight. He was getting ready to run along the beach and scoop up handfuls of sand, but just before he stepped foot onto the beach, he stopped. For as far as the eyes could see, this beach was pristine in everyway. Not a single thing out of place. A tear rolled down his face and he could hear himself say, "No. I cannot step onto this beautiful beach because I don't belong here. I wish that I did, but I don't. I belong in the real world." It was then that he awoke when he heard glass breaking. He could then hear his parents arguing as they often did. The tears came quicker and he cried himself to sleep.
The poem was based on being the youngest of ten and never really fitting in, along with my ex-wife always belittling me, because after all she had gone to nursing school for a full year. I also had a manuscript of a Science Fiction story that I had worked on for about a year. I had send it into a publishing company. About a month later it was returned. Rather than being rejected, There were notations about characters that I needed to give more details on, characters that did not support the story, storylines to keep in, and events to eliminate. The letter that accompanied the manuscript said that I had a lot of imagination but needed to show more emotion with some of the characters and less emotion with others. Once I accomplished that, they would gaurantee to publish the story. They also mentioned that I was on the right track because they felt that the first story would be a means of introducing the main characters, and that they were sure that as long as I could keep my thoughts going that I could create a series. Without taking time away from my family, I began re-writing my story. I consulted with a girl at work and gave her the first chapter to read, as she was a writer as well. She worked on the moods and temperments of the female characters as I worked on the male characters. When we discussed variations of the story I would invite her to our apartment when my wife was home, so that there would be no mistake as to what we were doing. We even had my wife add some characters as well. In six months, we had about six chapters complete and had about five chapters to go. On one of our meetings I had said that when I sent the final draft in for approvable, both my wife and the girl from work would be included as co-writers. At this point we had about 10,000 Double spaced pages complete. In between writing the story I would also write poetry, some of which I included in the story. The three of us went back and forth on a title and I believe we settled for "Redemption Day" or something to that effect. I was working full time, and my wife was working full time on different shifts. I felt that things were going pretty good. The girl from work was working on ideas for the next chapter and I was doing the same. About a month later She gave me her ideas (I believe her name was Sandy but I'm not sure.) and when I got home from work I went to the desk where I kept my manuscript and poems and could not find them. My wife was at work and my three kids were watching T.V. The babysitter was getting ready to leave. I asked the kids if they knew where the papers were that were in the desk draws. My oldest son and daughter had strange looks on their faces as they looked at each other. My youngest son said, "Ma threw them out." My knees almost went out from under me, but the baby sitter rushed over to balance me. She also knew about the book. She had a shocked look on her face as well and asked, "Tim. Are you sure? Your father has put a lot of time into the book and poems." There was basically ten years worth of poems and a book that just vanished from sight. When I asked my wife why she did it, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said, "You were taking too long. I want the money now, not ten years from now." I began to cry and she said , "Oh, poor baby. Mommy threw out your toys. Besides, they were taking up too much room. Besides, all you have to do is write them over, and then I'll throw them out again." She laughed and walked away.
I am slowly getting back to writing with Shirley's help, but it isn't easy to retrace twenty years of work.
As it is going to be my 70th birthday, I believe the cake will look like this.
GOD BLESS YOU


~Mike~
http://www.countryvalues65.com

Hi Mike,

I was married to a man for a quarter-century who said "Why write poems? They just take up a full sheet of paper...why not just put it into one sentence instead of wasting space?"

THAT's from a man who had a collection of 250 music CD's and always dreamed of being in the music industry.

I said to him, "SONGS are POETRY set to MUSIC!"

Sheesh!

Besides that, poems don't usually "waste the space" of repeating lines the way songs do.

Anyways, Miguel is correct, write from this moment forward, from your heart & soul, and now you have more life to write about than you did before...and I think all writing from peoples' hearts is always captivating!