Some reviews

Why is it so difficult to meet somebody today?

In spite of all the networking possibilities and social media?

If you are Single, Divorced or Widowed and want to get back into the Dating game, if you're looking for that elusive partner, you will be interested to hear how a pro went about it. I was a matchmaker in Ireland and had my own dating agency. I'm sharing my experience and insider views with my readers. For more info see my book's website:!

I had the honor of being asked to come on the local NBC show First Coast Living twice in the last week to give dating advice. If you missed it, you can read all that stuff in my book.

Friday, January 17, 2014

A Poor Boy’s Love Song

Sandy Hartman is a poet and blogger and a fellow member of,  Jacksonville chapter. Her extraordinary blog contains an impressive collection of poems read aloud by herself. Have a listen!This is how Sandy introduces her choice for this blog:

So much turmoil in the world today.  It is time to write of one of the toughest issues that exists globally....unemployment and the lack of futures for so many young men. These youth will never reach their potential and we well never benefit from the loss of their talent and their work in our world. They hold our futures. We will share their loss, no matter how indirectly.  What better calling for writers than to write of the great global issues that we as a people face.

What does it mean to me
All the fine talk
Of tender lotus buds simmering gently
Or of steamed chili peppers
Opened to find their hidden seeds

When my garden lies fallow
In the drought’s sweltering heat
When my land is lost to power and to greed
When there are cesspools
At the end of my street

What to me are honey drenched dates
That drip in sweetness
From sugared moments
When my hope is choked in terror
Buried in the drifts of dust and sand
And the olive trees die

In the rage of war and hate

What to me
Is the taste of ripened pears
Laid bare by hungering shank
When the smug of self satisfaction
Wreaks in the hallowed halls of banks
And destroys the honesty of leaders
Who only use their power
For privilege and for rank

All my journeys end in alley ways
Scribbled corners
Graffitied walls
And the ruins of concrete

But come here anyway
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you dream of me
Each night you fall asleep
Make this one moment’s lie
Somehow make me want to be

c  5/21/13
Sandy Hartman