Poetry by Yon the Rhymester

Words from the Heart

An Army veteran writes with raw honesty — about homelessness, faith, storms, and the stubborn grace of being human.

— Yon the Rhymester

"
I guess I have to be real and vulnerable if I want to change.
— Yon the Rhymester

The Poems

WEBSITE(Resilience In Us)

July 26, 2026

Listen to Yon read this poem:

Every time I go on this website, be it morning, afternoon or night
I can't help but think of the many who suffered, bled and died
and I feel grateful and thoughtful, and start to get teary eyed.

Men and women forcing themselves to never ever give in
to the fears that were crawling all over their skin.
They knew that on them many others relied
so they found what it takes deep down inside
to keep the fear of their reality under control
while being torn apart heart and mind and body and soul.

Some heard the booming of mortars, others machine gun fire.
They must have died a little inside while the Devil screamed "yer a liar
and a coward and yellow and yer afraid you'll never get out alive !
You can pretend all day that yer a bad ass "mutha
while you hope the reinforcements and Medics will suddenly arrive."

Or maybe you hear nothing at all, so you know the enemy's near
and you treasured each breath, never knowing if death was on its way or already here.

This website is especially for you with resources to help you keep or win the victory
over the wars that inside you fight every day and every night, on air or on land or at sea.

Yon the Rhymester
7/26/2026

This Man Named Jack

August 5, 2026

He was kind and thoughtful– this man named Jack.

He provided for the neighborhood boys what they did lack;
A backyard he let us use for sports and games where we left our mark.
He even installed floodlights so we could play basketball after dark.
He let us play ice hockey when the back yard froze
And we played outside all winter till we couldn't feel our toes.

He let us eat all we wanted of their varied fruit trees.
So we climbed them all picking apples, pears and cherries.
The peach trees were so low to the ground those we didn't have to climb.
We could just reach up or stand on a box and pull one off at any time.

He provided a muted kind of background supervision.
But left us alone for the most part confident in his decision.
Knowing he was raising his sons Mike & John to have fun, learn & grow
And though they would sometimes make mistakes, when it was time they'd know
How to solve the problems that were bound to ensue
Whenever a motley neighborhood crew
Of boys were playing. Starting to mature
Through experience into their future
Selves though of course we weren't aware of that.

We just wanted to get to take our turn at bat.
Playing whiffleball or jumping off the wall
Into the yard next door into a gravel pile
(even now the thought of that makes me smile)

We always seemed to be jumping over walls or climbing some fence.
(some of the things we did were dangerous & didn't make much sense).
But we were kids; what did we know? We just wanted to have fun
And run around and play each and every day from dawn to the setting sun
And beyond. After supper we would be back out again
Climbing over fences and walls to hit or chase various balls-
Little boys on their way to becoming men.

This Man Named JackPart 2

August 5, 2026

Upon Becoming 80

July 10, 2026

Now that I've reached the age of 80
I want less and less to mess
with matters that are weighty.
i want to have fun.
i want to bask in the sun.
i want to be nice to everyone
that comes my way each and every day.
Don't want to regret anything i do or don't do
before my time on this earth is through.
i want to be content when each day is done
that the course God gave me is the one I've run.

But the opposite is also true.
I want useful NO! I want great things to do !
I want to change the world for the better !
I want to save lives too !
I want to be among the very few
that make the world a better place to live
by giving all that I've got to give
of myself and anything I own
even if I remain a complete unknown
and only God knows everything I've done
trying to run the course I've been given to run.
Knowing trying means failing more often than not
for Jesus my savior I'll give it my best shot
as I move steadily towards making Jesus my Lord as well
since He died to give me a chance to escape going to Hell.

yontherhymester
7/10/2026

So You Are Homeless, So What?

April 18, 2013

So you are homeless, so what?
I can still sit on my butt
In a comfortable apartment, condo, or house.
Besides, you are probably a lush or a louse
And it's all your fault you are out in the street.
At any rate I not only don't want to meet you;
I most certainly don't want to treat you
With dignity, respect or even recognition.
I fear your condition could be contagious.
Puhleeze, don't act all self-righteous and outrageous
Because I'm like most people who aren't courageous
Enough to accept you as a fellow human being
And walk on by unfeeling, unseeing.
You know that in your heart if you looked inside
Before you were somehow disqualified
To live in a home of your own—
The same yellow streaked/red flag would have flown
That keeps my eyes from looking at you and seeing
The reality that could make me run, fleeing from
The truth no one wants to be shown:
"There but for the grace of God go I"
So like most people, I'll walk on by
With my head held high,
With a disguised, disgusted sigh,
Hoping it will never be my
Lot in life to live in the strife
Of a shelter or under a bridge, or in the street.
That's why… when I pass you by…
I try to make sure our eyes never meet.

OH NO!! LORD, SAY IT AIN'T SO?!!
Is this the way the rest of this poem must go?
As usual, this becomes a more personal poem
With the rest of it hitting too close to home.
Was that my real heart that I just revealed?
My selfishness and fear unconcealed
Lying broken on the field
Of dreams that I use to prop up my self-image and hide
From the self-centered coward I am on the inside.
I guess I have to be real and vulnerable if I want to change
Instead of playing mind games as I daily rearrange
The lies in my eyes so I don't despise
Myself as I walk in the disfigured guise
Of a selfless, loving, Born Again follower of Jesus Christ.
One who seemingly does not care how the pie is sliced……
As long as I get what I want and what I feel I should.
After all, I'm not that bad, and even sometimes do good.
But God tells me now He's not impressed
With me even when I'm doing my best
To try to act as though I'm really caring.
(ouch!! I did not want this much of my soul to be baring)
Well, Lord, I hope that's enough self revelation and self flagellation
Of my spirit, soul and heart.
I hear You are telling me it's time to start
Really caring, and really sharing more than just what I say.
It's time for me to really follow Jesus, come what may.
It's time for me to once again read the Bible, and heed it.
And remember Jesus saved me when I did most need it.
So I should love everyone as He did with great compassion.
And pray God use me to help others. And 'tho its gone out of fashion
To speak of Jesus as the Savior, the Truth, and the Way.
The only way to get to heaven is through Me, is what He did say.
But back to this problem of the homeless..
How can I do more? By making do with less!!
But what to do? How help who?
Who should I give money to?
I can't help all the homeless!!
But I can help a few!
Maybe not with money, since I don't have that much.
I know!! I could help at a shelter, serving meals and such!
I could give them clothes I don't like, or can't fit into anymore!
I can buy toiletries and necessities at a Dollar Store!
And bring them to the shelter as I go to serve each week.
THEN my acts would walk the talk I love to hear myself speak.
As James the New Testament writer said:
FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD DEAD DEAD!

When We Lost Power During Hurricane Irene

2012

We have no power! We have no power!!!
What do I do? What do I say to the strangers I live with every day?
We have no power. No one on our street has power, I realize
How do I spend another hour? How will we avoid each other's eyes?
Don't panic! Don't panic! it may be back on very soon.
Who am I kidding? I've seen the damage and listened to WTIC since noon.
It will be days. I'll be in a daze too
If I have to converse with these others who
Inhabit the same space that I do.

My son and daughter don't talk, they only text
And twitter and tweet, which just leaves me perplexed
And they Facebook and friend and post messages on a wall
But hardly ever answer their cellphones when I call
We nod at each other if our paths intersect
But most of the time their mode is constant connect
With peers, pals and BFFs and Facebook friends
Upon whom their ability to exist seems as if it depends
On always texting or chatting but not physically speaking
With others who like them are always seeking
The latest news about mostly trivial things
Like how well the latest American Idol sings
Or who's buttering their toast or eating ice cream
As they commune with each other, they are living the dream
Of always being in touch with anyone and everyone somewhere
But not actually being physically with anyone long enough to care.

We never talk any more — we Email and text
Now no one knows what they should do next
We've actually forgotten how to physically socially interact
Although sad, for many young Americans it is a fact.

I have an idea — let's play a game I announce
But on this suggestion they readily pounce!
My son is first to attack with a condescending sneer
"Saying we can't play any games Duh-ad — there's no power here"
I say no not that kind — we can play a card game
My daughter asks Memory card or SIM? I, astounded, exclaim
"No! actual playing cards like with aces and deuces and kings queens and jacks!"
My son uncomprehendingly, says how? Duh-ad? We have no battery packs!

We could always go to Starbucks if they have power, I suppose.
We don't have to go anywhere or have power, I interpose.
You mean there are games we can play without a PC
Yes I say and we can do so immediately.
We can use candles and flashlights or a lantern
Your father and mother think that we might re-learn
To act like families used to — father & mother & sister & brother
Like we used to in pre-high tech days, actually talk to each other.

New Britain Roots Needs Consumer Recruits

2020

Everyone who helps out at New Britain Roots
deserves more than a few 21 gun salutes
& thanks and praises from all those who
benefit from everything that they do.

Nick, Elwin & of course Joey Listro are the only names I know
but this is also for all those unknowns whose hard work makes it go.
And their volunteer activity helps more than the local community.

They also help local farmers sell more of what they produced
without paying for advertising, thus their costs are reduced.

This not only increases the ability to operate more profitably
it may allow them to use methods that increase sustainability
while at the same time not making it easier for parasites to hitch rides
although not increasing or even decreasing the use of pesticides.

There are other ways in which it pays for you to buy what's grown locally.
We reduce fossil fuel use, wear & tear on highways & increase road safety.

This results in lower prices for the consumer, obviously
but also fresher food since now no longer does it have to be
transported by refrigerated trucks from California, Arizona or Mexico.

It may even be flown in from countries, where we really don't know
how the food is grown or how well or even if it's for parasites inspected
before it leaves wherever it's from, arrives here, and is by us accepted.

You can eat more healthily
and stimulate the local economy.
And it's easy to do your part.

If you are not buying produce grown locally
wouldn't now be a good time to start?

The Road in the Woods Not Taken While Stopping on a Snowy Evening?

June 27, 2010

(Rough Draft by an unknown poet)

Stopping by woods on a snowy eve
At least I planned to but then I had to leave.
Quite unexpectedly and dejectedly — as
Words have started to take the form of a poem.

Something about taking the wrong way home.
But not really the wrong, maybe only the long
Way and that would make all the difference
In someone's life as they sat on the fence
Between two choices, hearing conflicting voices.
Now I have to choose before I should lose
That muse that visits me every now and then
Making rhyming words fairly leap from my pen.

I become excited, picturing, almost seeing in my mind two roads in a wood.
And snow falling. And I, sitting on a horse or standing, or walking, which could
Be taken for indecision at an important time in one's life
When a choice must be made; with each option rife
With consequences.
One should present to the imagination, fences
To be climbed over and rocky paths very steep
But leading to unforeseen treasures one could to oneself heap.
The other, much easier, well trodden, chosen by most people, like sheep
Who don't want to go into the woods because they are dark and deep.

All right! These are some promising lines that to my mind leap.
But I must stop for now as I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
Promises to keep?? Miles to go before I sleep??

Oh, I do like those lines! Perhaps someday I'll reap
Some benefits from taking this time
To write down these words, many of which rhyme
and also have some kind of meter. They really do flow.
Oh no!
It's getting late. I must stop writing and go.

But how can I get going when the words are fast flowing,
Effortlessly. Though I can barely see
As these woods are very deep and dark.
I'd better hark
to my conscience which always pays.
I'll save these lines for one of those rare days
When to write is a fight, with my imagination weak and blurred.
Oh, here comes the train. No time for even one more word.

Them or Us

2017

When does one of them become one of us?

Why must there be a them and an us?

Why must some "godly" folk make such an ungodly fuss
that in the name of their "god" they will publicly cuss
when asked to treat people who are different
with civility instead of malicious intent
like when Rosa Parks kept her seat on the bus.

Why in God's holy name is there a them and an us?

When the Old Words Just Won't Do

2020

I started to compose a text but quickly became very vexed
As I searched for the right words to say.
My aggravation began to grow as I wanted the whole world to know
How God had worked in my life today.
A veritable cornucopia of superlatives from my mouth began to gush
But none of the words I uttered, even supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Were good enough to be "the right stuff". The going was getting pretty rough.

Suddenly my frustration at this situation began to stir my imagination.
I thought 'if words that exist can't express my elation
Then I'll use words of my own creation!'

Quite spontaneous came ASTOUNDARANEOUS!
Next came a twist on an old exclamatory fossil
Actually two birthed anew as CLOUDNINEALOSSAL!
Then appeared the whimsical DELIGHTIFICAL!
EXTRAORDINARIOUS! and FANTASTICALORIOUS!
Sounded glorious. I became euphorious!
HUMDINGERZINGEROUS! and INCREDIBILIFIC!
Might to an English teacher sound horrific
But I considered them both kickasserrrific.
MEGASTANDING! Made a smooth landing on my enraptured ears
But the sound of SUPERDUPEROUS! quite inexplicably caused tears
and laughter simultaneously! Obviously, I was verbally living dangerously,
so I ended this quite suddenly.

A Refrain About Pain

I look for the silver lining in every cloud, however it may come.
Due to the intensity of my pain, I'd settle for aluminum
Or even tin if that's how it came in.
The pain is more bearable if I pray
Or even if I just out loud say
My mantra which helps when the pain's like a curse:
"AS BAD AS IT IS, IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE"
Also somehow God will use this to change me for the better
And bless me if I obey the spirit of the law, not the letter.
For the Spirit gives life, but the letter brings death.
That's written in the Bible, and until my dying breath
I'll try to live every day as if I really believe it's true,
Because deep in my heart, where it counts, I do.

The Nose Job

November 29, 2012

In a West Haven VA hospital bed
Writing (hopefully) a poem on an anesthetic high
"Should only take a few hours, you'll be home tonight" the Dr. said.
But problems kept occurring, and the day went slowly by.
The ladies at the desk were as helpful as they could be.

But they could do nothing to speed up the time of my surgery.
It was late when they finally said I was the last surgery for the day.
And it would be hours before I could leave, so I asked if I could stay.
Sara tried to convince my sister Stella that it would be best
If she left after Friday rush hour was over and went home to rest
Unknown to them she had been on the go all day
Starting with problems with their Vermont 50 acre survey.
It was 47.5 or 55.5 or even 64 acres one survey did say
So although she thought she could handle waiting, however long
To take me home tonight, I thought neither of us is that strong
And the thought of Sis being tired and wired driving an hour in the dark
If there were accidents or roadwork or problems, gave me the spark
Of determination I needed to ask to stay overnight
And have her or Rob pick me up in daylight
After the snow was cleared from the roads and they were salted
Thus I made sure all indecision and discussion were halted
And Stella would leave before she got too tired to safely drive that far
And I would not have to breathe the cold air and sit bundled up in the car

That settled I thanked all those who had come on at five
And played their part in getting me through the surgery alive.
But those who had done the most for me were already gone
But I will try to remember their names to pass on
To their supervisors to put into their file.
I'll start with Sara who with patience, went the extra mile
To encourage my sister to let me stay, (always with a smile)
Edna who gave me a sandwich the other day
And Fred and Mark who did not mind going out of their way
And were cool, even laughed at and repeated my "on a roll" joke
Treating me like I would expect if they were my kinfolk.
They encouraged me to hang in there and get it over with today
And Deb the coordinator, who advised me to stay
And was always pleasant and friendly, calling me sweetie and honey
Which I really like to be called. I always thought it was funny
That some guys are offended when addressed like that
Personally, it makes me feel like a younger, pretty cool cat

Now the names of the others are starting to fade pretty quick
As the pain medicine is starting to do the trick
Can't forget Dr. Park and the male nurse named Kim
Who knocked me out after wheeling me in
They were patient as I could not lie flat on my back very long
And like everyone else they encouraged me to be strong
And Rose was friendly and funny as well
And enjoys what she does, it is easy to tell.

Then there's my man Jeff, the nurse who brought me paper and pen
And patiently answered my questions and took care of things for me when
I needed anything, he would try to get permission if needed
From the doctor. No requests of mine went unheeded.
If he couldn't connect and get some Doctor's permission
He would several times stop by
Let me know he would again try
He was like a man on a personal mission.

Then of course Dr. Adam — he is the one
Who convinced me it would be wise to have this surgery done.
And if it is super-successful I may not need a machine to help me sleep
Through the entire night — steadily, uninterrupted and REM deep
So I can wake up refreshed and alert, raring to go
Instead of how I do now — brain and body both stuck in slowwww.

I would owe it all to God and the wonderful VA women and men
Who, named or not are so caring and professional they rate a flat 10!
I thought this poem was over before this day began
But how was I to know I'd be attended to by Megan.
She was friendly, kind and performed her nursely duties so well
Just like everyone else who made being here a great experience to tell
Others about, especially their peers, supervisors and overseers
But also "just folk" I know, that in all of my years
The times I've been served by those who work in the VA
Hospital group in West Haven always make my day
And or my stay so much better than just o.k.

Almost forgot another member of the staff
Named Mike, who allayed my fears and made me laugh.
And of course Barbara, who made all the copies of the original poem
I asked for so all whose name I remembered could take a copy home.
I think there were others, whose name I forget — oh, yeah Colleen
Was another person with a warm personality
Who did what she could to enable me
To have the most, relaxing, healing experience I could
All of those who attended me were much better than good.

I am sending a copy of this to the Head Nurse, Bernadette
Montana, so she knows how well they all treated this Vet.

The Day I Saw the Eagles Day

Suddenly there they were.
I sensed rather than saw (or maybe did both)
the change in the sky above the visor of my cap
as I sat on the deck in back of the O'Bryan's house,
enjoying everything that comes with doing nothing
physical except drinking herbal tea.
I did walk 3 miles yesterday on the trail
that used to be a railroad line. So now I'm fine
not moving much, not doing much,
with God and myself getting in touch.
Just sitting on the deck writing about the eagles
that appeared, floating and soaring on air currents
too far away to be heard or even seen clearly, ordinarily,
but fortunately, I had binoculars and saw there were three.

As I focused I realized the eagles (or hawks) were still
too far away for my feeble senses to know which.
Since I've seen hawks far more often
I'll call them eagles in order to soften
the hardening of my memory, giving me a string to tug
as my memories fade and go under some cosmic rug.

I was house & dog sitting for the O'Bryans one Sunday
when I saw eagles soaring as I on their deck lay.
They put on a beautiful acrobatic blue sky display.
What they were doing I could not say.
Hunting for food, i.e., working, or just at play
didn't matter to me as I peacefully lay
on the O'Bryan's deck that wonderful day
in 2011, on the 29th of May — the day I saw the eagles day.

yontherhymester

I Don't Twitter and I Don't Tweet

July 2010

I don't twitter and I don't tweet.
I prefer to see the people I meet
Face to face not on Myspace.
Because I believe that's how the human race
Was created to communicate. Body language and such.
Tones, inflections, volume, eye contact, sense of smell and touch
Are all missing when we speak to each other electronically.
Without being together physically, we lose our spontaneity.
Our chance to do things together on the spur of the moment
As well as being unable to react to our environment
Which causes us to unintentionally circumvent
Instant reactions to people passing by or sights
Which could present heretofore unknown delights.
We could do something together that maybe you have never done
And go with the flow, although you can't know, just how much if any fun
Your idea will bring to you and those you are with at the present time
the experience may be a bummer or on the other hand, may be sublime.
But that to me is what being human is all about anyway
Doing things that are new and interesting, come what may.

People now send messages by touch or talk as they drive or sit or walk.
Getting information about some situation.
Texting instead of even having a cell phone conversation!

Just the other day as I was driving my car I saw something very bizarre.
Two young boys were walking on the street very near
And neither had a cell phone or Bluetooth glued to his ear!
It struck me how unusual that that would be an unusual sight
As if every youth was on their cell phone day and night.
On second thought, that is the way it seems to be
Everywhere you go, everyone you know, maybe even you and me!
If you look far or near, there's a phone in their ear!
So they can't appreciate — appreciate? They can't even hear
The beautiful notes of birds singing
because their cell phone keeps on ringing, bringing
More words to their ears and to their mind.
I'm afraid someday that scientists will find
An entire generation almost from gestation
Has absorbed so much information their lives are full of frustration
Their fingers twisted from manipulation
Of an amazing technological invention
That does not reward retention, and offers little redemption
Of the time that has been spent
reading texts that were sent.
Or sending texts that were read. Instead.. of enjoying the sound
And sight of what was around. Not looking at the ground
But into the eyes of passer-bys and smiling, making eye contact.
Acting like a fellow human being, in fact.
Like people did before the constant cry for more
And faster and better means of communicating with each other
Instead of writing a letter to a friend or to your mother.

Now we text "Hppy Bdy, Mom. This shows letter u I rlly care.
Letter u shd letter b gld I did this much. I'm in a hurry. Hv #2 gt somewhere.
i'll letter b in touch, may letterb come number4 a visit but just when I don't no.
I letter l letter v letter u mom, gt number2 go."

yontherhymester
Copyright July, 2010

Only God Knows

2010

Only God knows some of the things I've done
When I was trying to survive and have some fun.
I didn't want my life to be about survival alone
As I limped along with a grunt and a hollow moan.

Some reason had to be found to not give up.
Forget about happiness, satisfaction, and/or the winner's cup.
Not killing myself would be victory enough.
Or worse yet someone else if things got really rough.

Each day not dead gave hope to my head
That today could be the day I'd be lead
To who or what would make all make sense.
I hoped thus to find a reason to get off the fence.
I wanted to jump into life with both feet unafraid
Of rejection, and/or failure and/or success & accolade.

I was aware I was unaware that you don't know who you are
You take so much LSD
That suddenly,
You are in danger of going too far.
So far that you may not get back even to the rotten life you despise
Because you've actually gone insane instead of becoming more wise.

But you can't enjoy or even endure life unless you are really high.
So you do things and take things that could cause you to die —
Prematurely.
And surely,
you would know you blew it forever.
Your pride has fooled you into thinking you were too clever
To lose at the Russian Roulette you played with your mind and soul.
You hoped you would be one of the lucky ones to reach your goal.
But instead you are dead and buried in a hole.

Thank God I'm still alive and that's no casually tossed off platitude
THANK GOD!!! I'M STILL ALIVE!!! And I have a new attitude.
Of gratitude.
And I no longer have to strive
and dive
Into the murky waters of psychedelics and opiates and such
Since Jesus reached down and pulled me out, not only daring to touch
The foul, filthy creature I was, wallowing in the muck and mire
Of tangled thoughts, confused conclusions, fear, greed, lust and desire.
But giving me peace and joy, and eternal salvation, and assurance that my life
would start making sense, would get better, someday a job, someday a wife
could be my destiny, instead of poverty and insanity.
Although even being poor would now somehow be okay
because I had found the WAY
the TRUTH and the LIFE embodied in Jesus Christ the Messiah the Savior
and He would change my mind, my soul, my thoughts and even my behavior
as I grew in knowledge and relationship with Him and lived out the revelation
that I truly was BORN AGAIN, had in fact become a new creation.
No longer needing drugs and getting hugs from my new found friends
Who revealed to me, the love of Jesus, which always transcends
Anything we have ever felt or heard of or known before.
As we experience it, as into our daily lives it seems to pour
And although it always is enough, we know there's always more
Joy and peace as we release God to transform our very being's core.

Yontherhymester
Copyright 2010

Yon on Juvenile Delinquency Prevention

Yon shares his ideas for addressing and preventing juvenile delinquency — written in his own hand.

About Yon

The poems are one part of a larger mission.

Yon is an Army veteran whose hard lessons — earned through real struggle — have become the foundation of something purposeful. His mission is to help prevent juvenile delinquency and share what he has learned about total wellness: that resilience is not just surviving, it is understanding what you faced, training yourself to face it again, and then reaching back to help someone else do the same.

July 30, 2026

How Openness and Vulnerability Help Others

Yon is an Army veteran with ADHD that was not diagnosed and treated until he was 67 years old. By then he had been battered emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, physically and psychically. On top of that he was doubly damaged in every way by trying to fit into society as "normal." On top of that he was simultaneously damaged by every legal and illegal negative coping mechanism he used to try to fight this invisible enemy.

He has written several poems describing situations and actions which were self-destructive or just senseless. He shares his observations in his collection, which will be in here soon.

Yon once performed as a member of "THE FREE AT LAST PLAYERS" at a school and afterwards a few students told him there was a boy who was always getting in trouble and sounded a lot like Yon had been as a youth. Yon offered to email his ADHD poems to them, and said they could show the Principal and his teachers, and even the boy himself and his parents so he could be examined for ADHD and be treated if needed, before he ruined his life like Yon did.

Yon realized he could actually change lives if he was open, transparent and vulnerable.

In Yon's own words — original document

Yon's handwritten account of how openness and vulnerability helped a young student — July 30, 2026

As seen in the press

"Yon The Rhymester Uses Poetry As Therapy For ADHD" — by Jennifer Sanguano, Staff Writer

Newspaper article: Yon The Rhymester Uses Poetry As Therapy For ADHD, by Jennifer Sanguano

More poems are coming.

Yon is an Army veteran writing from the heart. If his words moved you, share them.

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