Why do I write? I write because it brings me great joy and God gives me the ability to pen words to paper In the midst of my pain I write In sorrow I write In the midst of my totally devastating journey through illness I write Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I write For all the days I wanted to sing and was not allowed to I write When I look in to the pain in my daughters eyes I then write Through long suffering I write In the midst of my lifes storms I write In the good times I write and happy times I write From a child when I needed to get away Id write I write because it makes me happy Why do I write? My heart sings out the words from my mind In this my lifes writings there will be expressions of love, thoughts, hope, dreams and emotions So as you look into the corner you will find Pieces of my heart pen to paper From the corners of my mind I write.

The most significant US anthology of innovative poetries from the UK and Ireland in over 25 years. When most Americans think of contemporary British poetry, they think of such mainstream poets as Ted Hughes, Philip Larkin, and Geoffrey Hill. Yet there is a vibrant, diverse alternative poetry movement in the UK, inspired in large measure by the work of such significant mentors as Basil Bunting and J. H. Prynne. There is growing interest in this work in the United States - as alternative American poetries express increasingly transnational concerns - and yet almost none of it is available here. OTHER is a highly focused anthology bringing together several important strands of English-language poetry that are not otherwise so readily accessible. It includes work by 55 poets, among them Cris Cheek, Brian Coffey, Fred d'Aguiar, Allen Fisher, Ulli Freer, Randolph Healy, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Wendy Mulford, Tom Raworth, Denise Riley, Catherine Walsh; a critical introduction addressing such topics as the interaction of British and American poetic traditions; and brief biographical and bibliographical notes on each poet.

As a child Hester Wyatt escaped slavery, but now the dark skinned beauty is a dedicated member of Michigan's Underground railroad, offering other runaways a chance at the freedom she has learned to love. When one of her fellow conductors brings her an injured man to hide, Hester doesn't hesitate...even after she is told about the price on his head.The man in question is the great conductor known as the "Black Daniel" a vital member of the North's Underground railroad network. But Hester finds him so rude and arrogant, she begins to question her vow to hide him.When the injured and beaten Galen Vachon, aka, the Black Daniel awakens in Hester's cellar, he is unprepared for the feisty young conductor providing his care. As a member of one of the wealthiest free Black families in New Orleans, Galen has turned his back on the lavish living he is accustomed to in order to provide freedom to those enslaved in the South.However, as he heals he cannot turn his back on Hester Wyatt. Her innocence fills him like a breath of fresh air and he is determined to make this gorgeous and intelligent woman his own...Yet...there are traitors to be discovered, slave catchers to be evaded and Hester's heart to be won before she and Galen can find the freedom that only true love can bring.

Our 1935 black Oldsmobile and heavily-loaded trailer drew hostile looks as we drove into Bakersfield and stopped at a shady park to check the tires. When Mother, Daddy, we two girls and our young brother, Skippy, got out, two work-hardened men in ranch straw hats and short-sleeved cotton shirts stood staring suspiciously at our California license plates. "Had those plates on long?" the shorter man challenged Daddy. "Guess you'd say so," Daddy answered pleasantly. Mother's hands were settling on her hips, a sure sign her indignation would be expressed verbally at the first sign of an insult from the men. The taller man took a step toward Daddy. "Hope you're not looking for farm work in Bakersfield 'cause there isn't any." Deliberately the man spat on the curb. "Every damn fool in Texas, Missouri, Arkansas and Oklahoma is either here or on Route 66 trying to get here in some beat-up jalopy. Not enough cotton or potatoes in all of Kern County to keep half of them busy." "No," Daddy said evenly. "Not looking for work. Just looking to head out of here in a few minutes." While Daddy circled our car and trailer, Mother glared at the men, snapped open her white envelope purse and drew out a bottle of Coty's Emeraude, dabbing a drop behind each ear. "It's so much hotter here than in Lynwood," she said loftily. "I don't know how people can stand it." Turning her back on the Bakersfield men she added, "Come on, children, let's get back in the car. And don't step in that filth on the sidewalk." As Daddy pulled away from the curb, Mother fanned herself with her purse. "Imagine, Bruce, you, a civil engineer looking for farm work. I'd like to have given those Bakersfield men a piece of my mind, and I would have too if your work weren't so secret. They treated us as if we were Dust Bowl migrants!" In California in 1935 twenty percent of the country's labor force was unemployed, and hobos regularly knocked on back doors for handouts. To survive in the Great Depression, our father had taken a job with an oil exploration party in the San Joaquin Valley. Our family packed up and left southern California to join him. Between 1900 and 1936 California led the nation in petroleum production. Oil companies, certain that great reserves of oil still lay hidden, sent exploration crews, called doodlebug parties, throughout California to find new fields. The intense competition among oil companies mandated secrecy concerning doodlebug party movements. By setting explosives off in a series of holes, doodlebuggers would measure the echoes and make a seismic record that might indicate the presence of oil. Our new life was scary because we girls, Nancy, age 10 and Sunny, 12, had been allowed to make the decision whether to follow our father or remain in comfortably familiar Lynwood, just south of Los Angeles. Still, we knew that our father felt fortunate to be holding a job, even one that worked a hardship on his wife and children. We left our home in Southern California and headed north over the Ridge Route, towing our possessions behind our car in a small canvas-covered trailer. Even though the security of our family unit buffered us against hardships, we girls were apprehensive. Still, we were excited about the new life that was unfolding. DOODLEBUG DAYS takes place in a California with a population of only six million. The Valley towns in which we lived were small and agricultural with tight-knit established families. For the employed, life was less complicated than it is today. Radios, not televisions, were prominently enshrined in each living room. In the small towns up and down the Valley, people pulled their kitchen chairs close to their radio to listen to President Roosevelt's fireside chats as he discussed solutions to the problems that marked the era.

I gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face. I say to myself, Ive lived through this and I can take the next thing that comes along. --Eleanor Roosevelt The trials, challenges, and lessons of life seem to do one of two things; they either make us or break us. In addition, the way we think on a daily basis plays a major role in how we face the challenges of life and ultimately grow from each of the individual obstacles that come our way. In dealing with setbacks, it is then that our will, determination, and true character are tested at every level. Many questions prevail in such turbulent timesDo we wallow in self pity? or Do we keep pressing on knowing and believing that better days are to come? Do we give up on our faith and simply throw in the towel? of Do we continue to believe that God is working in our lives even when we cant see HIM working? The 19 Cent Millionaire is a story of how an ordinary woman, with the help of family, friends, and even complete strangers, has dealt with and triumphed over difficult circumstances and reveals what she has learned in the process. This book is a story of hope for all who have ever felt lost and alone, abused and forgotten, or thought themselves to be too far gone for a positive change. It is a story of how one woman has learned, grown, and is still growing into the woman she has always wanted to be and the mission she has to help others reach their full potential and obtain Gods ultimate best.

Mary, a 60 year old widow and the mother of three grown children has made an oath to remain celibate until she marries again. So far, it has been easy to keep her vow. A sudden snow storm brings Michael, a 62 year old multimillionaire to her home, almost frost bitten. Because of their unwavering faith in God, they knew they were fated to be together for life. Although the vow was a constant reminder while they waited for their wedding day, as the time grew nearer, something was wrong. Michael has a premonition that something is going to happen that will not be good, and this adds to the impending doom they feel. Will they reach the joy they seek in an everlasting life together?

This is not 52nd Street. The rich, white academics will no longer be given their structured, easy-to-listen-to jazz. This is Milton's Playhouse. This is the heart of music. Structure time form and proper scales are dead here. This is the place that jazz progresses. 52nd Street is stale and lifeless. The bridge to 52nd Street has been burned down. This is Improvisational Writing. It lives through every typo misspelling misuse and grammatical mistake. It is music without sound. Without measures. Without Scales. Without time. Without prisons. It is a hope to give life to something that has become so confined it can no longer breathe. It may be one continuous mistake. But it is honest true uncompromising and unconfined. In a world that has a million bookshelves lined with street maps to 52nd Street, this is a fresh note. It may be a flat note, nonetheless, it is a note.