To Those Whom Influenced Me To Write

 Dedicated To Those Whom Influenced Me To Write


As a young child I was curious about handwriting and I loved books, I recall my sister Barbara teaching me to read and write at a very young age, so when I first attended school, I already knew how. It was awesome being able to read the stories and my favorite was hymn books and poetry books. As it was, my grandpa had a nice collection of books and he would let me take a few to occupy my time. Sometimes he let me take one home with me. I was truly amazed and I loved poetry as much as I loved songs, for they had a rhyme, and a tune in my head for each poem had a rhythm all of it's own and often I would dance around the room while I was reading.

I loved all of the great poets, Wadsworth, Longfellow, Whitman, Browning and Shakespeare just to name a few. I would spend hours lost in another world, far away from the clatter of this reality, and it made my world one of awe and beauty, With my hymn books I would pretend I could read the notes, and I would sing up and down the scales, and I sometimes caught hold of the tune, just by reading and watching the notes and the rhythm of the words waltzing around in my mind. It was an innocent time and it made me laugh and made me cry, for sometimes when the words were sad, tears would form in my eyes... Poetry and prose so filled my being with deep emotions.

As a teenager I began to write my own poetry and prose, it all did rhyme, but as the years passed by I let it fall to dusty shelves, My poetry was too sad and my prose too forlorn. When I was thirty-three, I threw it all to trash can, something I would regret for the rest of my life. Four hundred and thirty-one pages as dust to the wind. The poetry in me had died, and I was disenchanted and stumbled on to a long many years of writer's block. It was lonely.

Twenty some odd years passed, I wrote a little now and then, a scribble here and there. Then something terrible turned my life up-side down, I lost my first born and only son, to a drunk driver. So I was inspired to write once again, I wrote day and night for almost three years, mourning my loss, for it was great, I loved him so, I will always hold him near, My son loved to write, and he was good at it, he could been a teacher, or an author, he was a fine sober young man, and he stole my heart. Robert Stephen Krempa was his name and he influenced me and inspired me to write once again. So I wrote volumes of poetry and prose, some for and about him, Much about my life and my trials and tribulations I guess you could say. I wrote to advocate for drunk driving and I wrote to advocate against domestic violence and I wrote for the joy of writing. I hope one day I will be able to have published those writings. They are as a much a part of me as I am my poetry and my poetry is me. Until we meet again I shall close with a friendly adieu, Hope you enjoyed the write.

Selavi