My teenage years were spent in solitude at English Bay in Vancouver; me, my paper and my writing rock. Read my poetry in 1960’s at coffee houses, The Bunkhouse and Sequel with other artists passing through; Sonny Terry, Brownie McGhee, Jose Feliciano, David Whiffen and many others looking for relief from the Vietnam War. I recently met a wonderful supportive mentor who has renewed my love for writing poetry. “I should probably do something with these boxes under my bed.”
In 1990 the first Word on the Street
Read from Dyke Words
Along the way she dabbled in theatre, got a degree in Social Work, worked in Alberta with abused women on the Blood reserve and tried to make a difference. She woke up recently and was shocked she was entering her 7th decade. The boxes under her bed had multiplied. Some of it had found its way to anthologies, magazines, and the stage but the boxes were full of half a century of a life filled with stories yet to be told.
Free spirit. Born in the Selkirk Mountains. Roamed for first three years with bears, moose and deer. Mother’s constant warning, “When you’re out playing watch out for the Grizzly bears.” Gradually Megan integrated into a world void of wildlife. At an early age she began to store her feelings in poetry and stories in a box under her bed.