Nadar’s Raiders, why have you forsaken us?

This was one of my attempts at poetry from long ago. Since then I have realized I have poetry in my heart, but it doesn’t extend to my creative mind.

Was your dream always to become President of the US?

We needed you to shine a light on the manufacturer’s shortcomings

We needed you to continue making a big fuss

Over their huge profit by using lies and such

You told us when they made the shoddy toys

And let us know what they were up to

You were one of the good old boys

And helped give some of them the boot and shoe

The advertising of products on TV

That showed us that they were the best

And the miracles they claimed them to be

Was all smoke and mirrors; we could laugh and tee hee!

The soap that didn’t wash like they claimed

The cribs weren’t he safe as they should be

And our children were maimed

We saw what we needed to see

And stopped buying the things they presented

With golden voice or sexy slinking

And stayed with the things that you recommended

We were glad you got us thinking

But there came to you heard the sirens song

Of gaining the all-important elected office of the President

Maybe you planned to achieve it all along

And we didn’t matter, only your intent

We wish there was someone to take up your staff

And forge ahead with your quest

To make the big guys not take their profit out of our half

And not listen to them and only work on our behalf

Published by Time Traveler of Life

Biography Creating worlds, characters, and wielding power like a madwoman, making my characters happy, sad, angry, and some of them with no redeeming qualities. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I sometimes laugh out loud when I am writing a scene, and I have been known to cry when one of my favorites has to die. I am a left-handed Gemini, what do you expect? Reading bedtime stories to my two children until they fell asleep or until they just told me to go away, was fun. Making up wild stories for my grandchild, and creating Halloween costumes from Cowboys to a Dragon, was another favorite thing to do. I missed that so much when they were grown, that I started writing. My yearly newsletters frequently were drafted third-person by my Love Birds, Miranda our motorhome, and by Sir Fit the White Knight, our faithful Honda. Throughout the years, some of my creative talents centered around writing letters of complaint expressing my displeasure with services or products. One crucial, at least to my Son, was a note to our local school bus driver petitioning her to allow him back on the bus. He was kicked off for making an obscene gesture at his buddy. I reminded her that it was not directed at her, and that “obscenity can be in the eye of the beholder,” kids use that gesture as a greeting. He rode the bus until he graduated. I loved driving my English teacher crazy. Leaving a “continued next week” at the end of my five handwritten pages required each week. He was one of many people that suggested I “do something about my writing.” I graduated from the School of Hard Knocks at the top of my class. After 30 years, in the trenches as a Real Estate Professional, I have found that truth is stranger than fiction. My books are filled with characters I met in that profession. Their names were changed to protect the guilty. Others were from people we met traveling around the country in Miranda, our Motorhome. I am married nearly 60 years to the love of my life, Shirl, and partner-produced two exceptionally talented children, and one grandchild who is our pride and joy.

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