Cream cheese and crackers,

And candy from Halloween,

Orange juice and arrowroots,

To fill the time in between.

A place to feel safe,

A place to come down,

Conversations with women,

Who wear the same crown.

Distraction in movies,

All the way back to 1939,

Hiding from the world,

Until feeling closer to fine.

Talking of strategy,

Like fighting a war,

You relapse could happen,

Right at the door.

So many worries

spinning in my head,

But the movie is over,

‘Ladies, time for bed.’



Clear the smoke to find my path again.

This time the boulders are here to climb.

Turning back is a journey downhill,

And at the bottom there is a reservoir of pain.


Escape so attractive,

Excuses reactive,

Feeling energy drain,

Giving in to the pain,

The smoke begins to rise,

Giving way to landslide,

To the bottom I slide, again.


Back on the road in the right direction,

Following where the compass will guide,

Allowing truth to lead, and faith to push,

Moving with ego set aside.



This is something I wrote as a young teenager, not sure of exact age, but I know it was before 15.



As winter subsides into spring, hope is renewed as a flower pushes its head through the ground.

Something so fragile fighting its way into the world, where it must then struggle to survive.

Battling against all of nature’s blows;

The whipping wind, the rushing rain and the scorching sun.

Yet these same elements will keep it alive, nurturing its existing;

The warmth of the sun, the gentle rain and caressing breezes 

Coaxing it to grow strong and beautiful,

Only to be destroyed by the harshness of winter.

But then as the winter exhausts its furry,

The flower will again rise to grow stronger and more beautiful

Bringing hope to all who view it.