I'm very busy raising an eight year old grandson who has cerebral palsy and is blind in one eye.
I'm editing several novels and have completed two illustrated poetry books. Currently I'm looking for interested publishers.
Would love to keep in touch with everyone who enjoys my poetry but there is never enough time. If you'd like updates on what's going on, you'll find it here.
Newsletter Dated: 4/17/2003 10:54:00 AM
Subject: Sandy's Chatterbox
Doogie's vision seems to be improving daily. Thank you all for your prayers :)! God bless and watch over each of you.
Currently Doogie's teacher for the blind is coming daily for an hour and a half. She leaves lessons behind for me to do with him . . . including some in Braille so I have less time to talk to all of you.
Please bear with me.
We return to Portland on Tuesday next week for another post-op exam and hope to get a prescription for new glasses at that time.
Meanwhile, after five trips to the eye doctor for my contacts, I'm hoping to have a pair that I can see out of by next Wednesday.
Doogie will be nine years old next Tuesday (the day we are in Portland). We've had full custody since three weeks prior to his fourth birthday and he was wearing size 18 months, still in diapers! We've come a long way!
We will attend Al's oldest granddaughter's wedding (Carey is 21) on April 26th in Layton, Utah. So if I don't post or answer email next week-end, that's why.
Doogie's poem, Annie, and my poem fall of life will be published in "Whispers" an anthology of American Poets that will be published soon.
Since Doogie's poem has already been featured, here's mine.
fall of life
during a raging storm in the midst of night,
a lone, shivering leaf barely clings to life.
its' tender grasp slips; it trembles.
neither strength or prayers halt the merciless tide
when Mother earth lustily envelopes herself
to mask winters' dire misery.
Death, waiting in the folds of the howling wind, gains momentum,
curling and desperately clinging to the mighty branch.
the leaf--shorn free--falls frantically
until a gentle mist enbraces and guides it
. . . softly . . . to a tender branch nearby; it relaxes
suddenly lightning, sheering the two as one,
continues the quest.
an old owl hoots hauntingly;
'who-o-o-o do you think you are? all life ends!'
as a misty, lightning-streaked shroud envelopes the pair,
a floating ember of light whispers
'spring forth; I'll catch you.'
the yellow, torn, forgotten autumn leaf crashed
but its' inner spark yet pulsates
in a glowering globe of everlasting life!
Thanks for keeping in touch!