I am very new at this poetry writing caper. When I received an e-mail from a stranger complimenting one of my first efforts I was surprised at the depth of my reaction. This is to thank that stranger.

I was sitting around and before I started writing poems I thought to myself what to write about to make a poem

My poem is about why I write the poems that I write. These are the feelings and experiences that I have which inspire me to write the words that come so easily to me.

This is simply a response to my lifelong love of Poetry and to those who wrote it best.

I wrote this poem after repeatedly hearing people say things like . . .

"Poets don't get famous until they die, ya know." and "No one will appreciate your gift until you kick the bucket my friend!"

Often I have thought, Who needs glory? I'd prefer just to be heard and to touch people on that innermost level. So, listen to me while I am alive World. Don't wait until I am a member of The Dead Poet’s Society.

Passions is a fabulous place filled with many talented poets. I wrote this poem to commemorate my 1000th post as a member of the forums and this great group. It is dedicated to Ron, above all, for having the courage to start this haven that is now my home. Thank you to all who have encouraged me in my writing endeavors.

From Sir Walter Raleigh to Ezra Pound, poets have shaped America and given her words of pride.

(dark angel contributed to this acrostic poem - thank you, dear one)

History is rife with injustice, bias, and ignorance. But perhaps at no time in written memory has that been more true than in the early days of settling the New World. We've all heard tales of the Salem Witch Hunts, and while the dark phenomonen wasn't constrained to only America, it was certainly here that it reached its zenith.

This poem tells of one incident during that time of evil. An incident that probably never really happened. Probably.

Fantasy epics date back to the time of Homer, and likely before. This poem tells a wonderful tale about a very magical book, a mythical figure brought to life by the modern magic of words and rhythm, and a difficult decision that has far-reaching effects.

And like any good story or poem (and this one is both), there's an underlying message you would do well to seek. The dramatic conclusion to this ode may not be as much a fantasy as some of us would like to think.

I don't really know what inspired this . . . It was just after an end of a relationship, but I don't really think the poem was about that. (Those are just usually the times I end up writing . . . at the end of something. ) I just remember for the first time in my life identifying with the ancient Siren from the Odyssey. She's always thought of as an evil monster, but I've never heard anyone ask the question, "Where did she come from? What is she like? " So, in my poem, I gave her human- like qualities of perception, guilt, love, bitterness, sadness, and hope. I suppose I was trying to convey a woman accepting that the thing she wants most she will never have, so she must close her heart, and try to make the best life she can without it.