After many years of writing personal essays and scribbling journals, I have circled around to find I want to feature myself as a poet. I wrote my first poem at 12 when a dear friend died prematurely. I have written poetry ever since and have found some success…a few have won monetary prizes at Writer's World in The Festival Arts at Marblehead, Ma. and several poems have been published in journals including Sagewoman, Marblehead Magazine, The Blessed Bee, and Off The Coast…a journal of Maine poets. I have notebooks full of poetry and this year, as I step across the threshold of retirement, I am determined to begin the lengthy process of culling the dross from the pearls and setting these wild winged, natural word-birds free. Perhaps they have been ripening on the shelf long enough for even me to finally appreciate them. And as I do, I plan to share them with you. Poems nourish me in my darker times. They feed a wildness in my soul. I have no string of academic degrees. I am not a world traveler or a witness to world conflict. I am a simple lover of word pictures, sounds and smells..I was a stay at home Mom who worked at jobs that allowed me to parent my own children. I grow our food and make medicines from the wild herbs and flowers of the woods and fields. I keep chickens and feed the wild birds. I make fairy houses and felted birds. I love deeply…passionately and I wither like dried fruit when I find my self expression blocked. I believe that anyone who gives voice to what they hear in their heart will inevitably give voice to a poem. I have stalled as a poet mistakenly believing that in order to be official, one must have a Masters Degree or be a teacher …or be schooled in the universe of verse. I have changed my perspective. There is value in the intimations of a quiet heart…there are songs to sing about growing things…babies or vegetables. There is poetry in a woman's work whether she is homemaking, gardening, cooking, raising babies or being mystified by the challenges of marriage, parenting or just learning to make oneself happy. My Red Berry Poetree is aimed at the heart of the intuitive woman…the common villager, backyard farmer, lover of wild places. These poems grew wild
and came at times unbidden…like wild berries in the pucker brush. They have sustained me during times of darkness and confusion. They have been my friends. Welcome…and let me introduce you!
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