Events in my earlier years showed me that I had a need to help others in their time of need. This led, first, to my becoming an Astrologer and, later, a Hypnotherapist. Two poems demonstrate my earlier frustrations.

Tel-Apathy

Time lost, spent waiting for the phone to ring,

With hope, yet dreading what the call might bring.

Does anyone want me for what I am?

For what I am able to do for them?

A chance is all I ask to prove my worth,

To show that I was predestined from birth

To comfort, love with all my soul and heart,

A woman who is sad, forlorn, apart.

But still I wait and still the phone won’t ring,

And then I start to curse the blessed thing.

It smugly sits and smiles from one to nine,

While holding back the message on its line.

Then, all at once, a new thought comes to be:

Could she be waiting for a call from me?

The Candle

The light faltered, flickered in the glass bowl;

Shadows danced on the wall of the dark room,

Which seemed eerie and cold like a tomb,

Full of dark despair and devoid of soul.

The weight of life has had a heavy toll,

Removing joy and leaving only gloom;

An overwhelming sense of death and doom

Pervades the being of a person, whole.

A candle burning bravely, but in vain,

Trying to dispel the melancholic,

I might as well have tried to conquer rain,

Or form straight lines from the parabolic,

Than to attempt to influence your life

By giving love in place of mortal strife.