Writing Poetry and Short Stories

My Creativity;

It is in the form of words, Poetry, and Short Stories. Words that bring a smile, sometimes a chuckle or two. Words that touch your heart, bring a tear to your eye. Words of truth, fantasy, love, heartbreak, tragedy.

Each word a puzzle piece that fits together perfectly. To paint a picture, you can see. Taking you to places you could never be.

Some of my happiest times (but not all of them) are when I am writing short stories and poetry for children ages seven to thirteen. Applying with-in them a moral or life lesson. I have found that some adults enjoy reading them also. All of my poetry and stories are not just for children.

Below you will find, Growing Up Was Easy -1-. I have written 1 through 8 (with more to follow.) They are actual accounts of my youthful years as a child. I enjoyed writing them, and I smiled as I wrote each one. So, as I pass them on, may they grace your face with a Smile.

You can find them at, https://allpoetry.com, Postilion.

Along with many others.

Growing Up Was Easy - (1)

For me, from my earliest memories and many years that followed. Growing up was easy.

I would get up early before anyone else would rise. Finish dressing as I went out the front door. You could see the crest of the sun as it was rising. Soon its smiling face would brighten this new day in my world.

Then, I would grab hold of the well-worn what used to be a black-colored handle attached to the slightly bent handlebar of my almost unrecognizable Radio Flyer Wagon. Then I was off to search and explore the hidden treasures of my neighborhood. Blacktop roads with no curbs marked the ground outlining the houses and empty lots.

There were large fields full of blooming mustard greens with yellow flowers. Butterfly, Bees, and Hives. Loads of different colored Dragon Flys that look like tiny helicopters flying over an airfield. That area would be an adventure for another day.

My unique plans for today are to find and explore the Mother Loads hidden throughout my neighborhood. I have discovered and explored a few of them before. Walking away with my wagon full of riches. My bounty existed of returnable soda bottles, two sizes of beer bottles, lizards, snakes, and a few odds and ends (recycling, no one had ever heard of that word.)

Their value was three cents per bottle for soda. The money maker was the quart size beer bottle, valve ten cents. The smaller beer bottle, value five cents. Kids (not all of them, only a few) that did not get an allowance were the ones that collect bottles. So they could have some spending cash.

Remember, candy and gumballs were two for a penny at this time, candy bars three cents. There was a large variety of two for a penny candy and fifteen different types of gumballs. Not sure how many kinds of candy bars I only bought the other two. Today turned out to be a real money maker for me.

I was the youngest of four. I had two older sisters and a brother. He was the oldest. I remember one summer, my mom us four kids and a family friend who had two boys. All pack into an old chevy. Then headed to my mom's sister's home in Wyoming.

When we arrived, the six of us kids got surprised. They pointed towards a small old wooded room on the other side of the chicken yard. Saying that's the toilet.

Not my brother. But the other two boys and I quickly headed out to explore. After wandering around for a while, we came across a dead animal. It looked like it had been there a long time. The skeleton was all that was there. As we were examining it, I started grinning. Then, thinking to myself, I just found a motherload.

I started removing the dead animal's teeth. I planned to take them home. Put one or two at a time under my pillow for the tooth fairy. Then he would pay me for each one. Well, you can guess what happened to that plan.

I wouldn't say I liked having to make that trip through the chicken yard to the little shack outback. After entering the chicken yard, you had to be quiet. At any time, the chickens saw you. You were in trouble. They would move in and attack as you ran as fast as possible to get to the shack. The chickens would be pecking your feet all the way there.

Once inside the shed, fear passed through you, knowing there was only one way back. Upon opening the door, the chickens would be waiting for you. So you had to make that mad dash back across the chicken yard.

And don't forget to lock the gate.

My Inspiration, My Life;

Without knowing it until I was forty-seven, my life has been a work in progress. Which began in my youthful years as a child and has continued to this day.

In my youthful teen years, I was a Venturous Wondering Misanthrope. I traveled lite, toothbrush in one pocket, seven-inch switchblade in the other (only for safety.) I hitchhiked across Edmonton, Calgary, and Vancouver. When it came time for the sun to rest, the skies exploded with an array of colors. I was amazed to see the aurora borealis floating across the heavens above. I met some great people stayed a day or two with a few.

I sojourned along the Coast Highway, Beaches, and Cliffs. Relaxed on the white sandy seashores, slumbered amongst the trees in the Santa Cruz mountains. I met a few intriguing characters. I stayed a couple of days with two different bands as they jammed.

In my late twenties, some unforeseen personal things happened. That destroyed my world, allowing the demon named depression the opportunity to slip in.

Twenty Years / No One Knew

twenty years no one knew

except for two

outside me that everyone perceived

friendly, happy, helpful, content

the other one

inner me no-one knew

agonizing sadness tormented distress

every morning after, I would rise

I'd slip on my disguise

hand-painted image everyone perceived

hidden from view the other me

after twenty years

I could no longer hide

the outside me began to die

the inside me began to thrive

next fifteen anguishing years

more sinister, my world became

sliding deeper within myself

desolate world of despair

with-in this desolate world

existed two creations

one with light has many faces

lost desires with devastating behavior

emotional oppression desolation

the weight of it keeps you in bed

now begins the second creation

the light dissolves

the darkness evolving

with-in the darkness

lives loneliness

filling my room with emptiness

drowning me with misery, anxiety

tomorrow is another day

none of this will go away

it just begins all over again

I don't claim to be a poet, but I enjoy writing

for me, it is a necessity for my happiness, creativity

as for my grammar, spelling too schooling was not for me

eighth grade was all I did see

I don't write to impress, I don.t write to pleases

I write for me, what I have walked, what I have lived

is what's inside of me

it is a time to vent, pour out what's locked in my head

what was not allowed to be said comes out of my pen instead

I have felt every word, every word you read

I have lived them all, this is me

when I walk away, there will always be

left behind a part of me

now, with each step I take, I leave a word

within each word, I leave a part of me

what I have walked, what I have lived

this is what's inside of me; I've felt every word

every word you read, I have lived them all

this is me

My Works In Progress;

There are many, in the form of short stories and poems. To finish writing, publish my short storybook, "Smiles for Children."

Complete my anthology of poems and writings. So titled "The Opinion of One," then submit for publishing.

There is also my newest endeavor, "Say Something Nice Cards," I have not come up with the actual name yet or the finished product. But I am working on it. Cards that you do not need an occasion to give. A card you give that just makes a person feel good about themselves.

Right now, this idea is in the first steps. I am making and designing cards by hand. I needed supplies for this project. So I went to the net, there I found Fiskars; they have all the crafting supplies I need and a lot more. If you have a project to do, this is the place to go, a one-stop-shop store.

My first stop was to look at their choices of scissors. I could not believe the verity. I had never heard of or seen some of them.

They sell the scissors I need. They are made for the cutting tasks I have. A heavy mixed media materials, paper, cardstock, and more. They even sell a sharping tool for the scissors.

After looking over this site, I do not doubt that I can now put together some finished items to send in for finishing.