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Poetry from the Heart

by Mary Galo

60 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1257; ISBN 1-55395-542-0; US$12.50, C$15.25, EUR10.00, £6.90

This little book of poetry covers many years of a woman's life. It is written mostly in simple old fashioned rhyme. It tells of many thoughts of family, friends and observations that were seen through the heart and mind.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book This little book of poetry covers many years of a woman's life. It is written mostly in simple old fashioned rhyme. It tells of many thoughts of family, friends and observations that were seen through the heart and mind. It also tells of a faith that has seen adversaries and happiness and reactions to both. Through encouragement from family and friends, I was able to put the culmination of over thirty years of using poetry to express my feelings and emotions into a book.

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About the Author Mary is a first time author. She has written poetry throughout her lifetime. "It has always seemed the best way to show my caring and love for my family and friends." However, much of her poetry tells of experiences and observations in her life that were more personal. Through the encouragement of family and friends, she finally decided it was time to share. Mary has been an Air Force wife for almost forty years. She feels it give her a certain tenacity to deal with whatever comes her way. It also gave her a strong and protective love of family and friends. Recently she just retired from nursing and is trying to get used to not having to be on a schedule. "After twelve years of having to get up at a certain time and go to bed at a certain time and only having weekends to get all my chores done it really seems strange." Mary is the mother of four children, Carol, Joe Jr., Jim and David plus grandmother to 8*year old Nathan. She also inducted two new members into the family, which are David's wife Cathie and Carol's husband Gary. Mary and her husband John lead a somewhat quiet lifestyle now and reside in Fairview Heights, Illinois.

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Galo turns thoughts into poetry Fairview Heights woman publishes a book of poems by Laurie Almodovar staff writer Sitting in her cozy Fairview Heights living room, Mary Ellen Galo read aloud from her recently published book of poems. Then she picked up a pen. "I don't know why I'm shaking," she said as her trembling hand inscribed a dedication on the title page. "I don know," she corrected herself. "The only people who've ever read my work are friends and family, and now I'm putting it our there. It's scary." Although the retired Scott Air Force Base nurse published a collection of her poems only last month, she isn't a new poet. Galo has been writing poetry for most of her life. "There were thoughts that would come to me," she said. Thoughts that she wanted to record. "Poetry was the best way to do it," she explained. A friend told her that the works were similar to a diary. "I hadn't though of it that way, Galo said. "To a point it could be."

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Sample Excerpts

July 7, 1937 Twas a hot summer day in the month of July, When my mother gave birth to me. She recalls it so well with a tear in her eye, For a girl I turned out to be. ***** Teenage Lament I want to tell all teenage girls be watchful and alert, For if a boy insists on sex it's you that will get hurt. It isn't easy growing up, I know for I was there, And feelings you are feeling now can give you quite a scare. ***** The Culprit I spent three years in a limbo state, Never knowing what would be our fate. He always was such a healthy man, Never a cold or a fever he ran. ***** Caring Love There are many days set aside to show how much we care, Especially those that in our life we've chosen now to share. And those of us that chose a path of caring for mankind, Have seen them come to us with wounds we gently bind. ***** Love Never Ends Even though they were quite ill their passing brought you grief, It seemed they sould have had more time, it seemed so very brief. But we are not the ones, who number all our days, For there is someone else who picks who goes and who stays.

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Catalogue Information

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