Broken Chains

I am very happy to be introducing my first book, Broken Chains: Poetry and Testimony. It has been a dream of mine since I started writing the poetry to be able to distribute it to as many people as possible and show the world what God has done for me. I am very excited to say that I think this book accomplishes that.

The poetry is arranged around pages that speak to my past, present and future, as well as the blessings God has poured out on me. Our God is a faithful Father and He has brought me through many trials (and still is!). Everyone has the proverbial skeletons in the closet and I am no exception. My childhood was rough, my teens were wild and my early marriage was rocky. But God was with me in all of that, and hindsight shows me some of the amazing divine intervention that occurred.

I would not be here, talking to you about this book, without the support, prayers and encouragement (and some challenging) of my friends, my husband, and most of all, my God. On the days I doubted that I could do this, didn’t think I could reveal the pains of my past, wasn’t sure I could tell my story, they were there to pick me up and lead me forward. I cannot thank them enough.

The book is available here, in both paperback and digital forms. I hope that you would consider picking it up if you enjoy my poetry and would like to know a little more about where my inspiration comes from.

Below is a small except of the book from page 6. I hope you enjoy it!


     I don’t remember exactly when I started reading poetry. My earliest memory of it is from the book, “Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle”. I remember reading Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky, even getting the chance to have a book autographed by Jack at my local library.

      One of the first times I remember writing poetry was in my seventh grade English class. We were assigned a project, a poetry notebook, and I adored it. Alliterative poetry, a sestina, cinquains, haiku: all on the list. It was challenging and developed in me a love for writing.

      I wrote off and on throughout high school as a way to express feelings that I couldn’t always articulate. I have always desired to avoid conflict for the most part, but the page took no offense to anything I wrote down. Poems about sadness, love, and my dreams for the future all found their way into my notebooks. Emotions that only now are beginning to make sense spilled forth onto paper as I sat on my bed.

     Life didn’t allow for much writing after I started a family, but the itch never left. I would flip through my notebooks from time to time and reminisce about writing. I got the chance every once in a while to jot something down, but all too soon someone needed me. My pen was again dormant for a bit.