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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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| It was the last thing on my bucket list, I didn't know it would be a hassle, Skipping it was something I would've missed, Spending the night in an ancient castle. Of my ignorance I write, quite daunted, How was I supposed to know it was haunted? The long shadows cast by the blood-red moon, Moved in the wind as if they were alive, A wrought door held by timbers roughly hewn, Lamented the fact any should arrive. I thought this castle was the one I wanted, How was I supposed to know it was haunted? A whisper faint urged me to turn and flee, My heart beat faster with cold-blooded fear, Inside the darkness closed in around me, I felt the demons coming ever near. The evil in this place laughed and taunted, How was I supposed to know it was haunted? My weak jellied bones betrayed direction, I ran as fast as a bolt of lightning, I dimly recall, in retrospection, The terror that seemed so intensely frightening, Now I ask with all my cowardice flaunted, How was I supposed to know it was haunted?
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