I wasn’t a particularly creative person in school, though I did like to read poetry. My love of writing has only developed since I was diagnosed. At first I wrote poems for family and friends. Now I write to express myself. Instead of dwelling on my condition, I write. It’s like a medicine for me….

Grass so green and bright flowing like water before a salt-touched wind; pale blue violets and yellow too, waltzing up the red clay lanes High in the sky a thrush’s bell-like song courageous, full-throated sweet, sounds among the beautiful cathedral clouds. Whispering pines gracefully silhouetted against a multi-coloured sky, flame red in the rays of…

Two yowling cats On a moonlit fence, A bearded face, Peering from the window Of an old log shack, Why do these images Remain to taunt In time? While great events Slip quietly away.   Submitted By: NULL