POET & AUTHOR
C. J. KRIEGER
THE BOOKS
PINACOLADA CHILD
The book company tells me that an introduction is something everyone needs with lots of words and lots of personal information. The dilemma is what do you need to know about the pages inside? My life’s history, those wonderful things that happen to us all, or just a general synopsis of all the brilliant and dim-witted experiences that I (and most of us) have gone through?

Well it’s here in the pages that follow, and not just in the words. If you let your heart read between the lines and take a chance on the emotions that these words might evoke, maybe… just maybe you might find a bit of yourself inside, and let a tear or a smile come to you as they still come to me.

What I have learned in my years on earth is that we are not as different as we would have ourselves believe. We breath, we walk, we love, but most of all, we hope to be loved. Even now this hopeless romantic is waiting. Please don’t make me wait long.


THERE'S ALWAYS AUGUST
When I first wrote “Pinacolada Child” I had no idea of how it would be accepted… only to find, in the response, how similar we all are when it comes to everyday life.

These days, however, life seems to be dictated not by choice but by circumstance. That is to say, in the quiet town of Woodstock I find myself putting into words the story of my journey through life and trying to analyze what some of us would call the “The Human Condition” while others (like myself) would just call it “Wonderful!”

So once again in poetry, prose and of course insane thoughts, for all to see, I give you the hopes of a man whose only wish is to share his life with you. Here is where the amazing happens. Somewhere within this book, whether you are 60 or 16, there is a story about you. Open the pages and youÂ’ll know itÂ’s true.



ABSORBED BY THE SUN

​Lately I have been thinking about what life holds in store. Realizing the steps I have taken to where I am today has been filled with buckets of tears and volumes of smiles. I have gone down roads that I would gladly forget, and others that I would hope come again. All in all, I hope that whatever the future holds I can embrace.

​Each and every day that passes I find myself remembering. Sometimes a word is said, and I recall a bit of the past. I hear others speak of their lives and realize that I too have been there or have gone through that same type of situation. Every so often I notice changes that nature goes through and recognize that it is all part of the amazing journey we all experience.

It is through that journey both you and I are bound together, and in this binding the stories I tell are both yours and mine.

So turn the pages and remember with me some of the steps we have taken together, by ourselves.
REFLECTIONS IN GLASS
In my life I have been a soldier, a philosopher, an engineer, a massage therapist, a musician, a martial artist, a writer and a poet. Looking back, I find when I put all of these together in some mysterious way; it makes sense that I have become a romantic. I don’t quite understand it, but it flows effortlessly from my heart and my pen, and as easy for me to accept as breathing.
I have also learned that everyone understands love. Some because they have it, some because they have gone through it, and still others because they need it.
You will find it here, in the words, in the sentiment, in-between the lines or in the emotions that they might provoke.
I cannot think of a better placeto have written these words than Woodstock.
ON TINKER STREET
Forty years ago Woodstock was a place of dreams. A place of rebirth where the spirit of the world seemed to have revolved around a festival filled with music and hope for a new generation. Since that time Woodstock has become synonymous with a renaissance of life that to this day, reminds us of the beauty that can occur when we put all our positive dreams into reality.

Here in my writings, among the funny stories and pretty pictures I have painted with words, (if you look close, and I hope you will), you will find those poems that are the true length, breath and height of me. That is not to say that the others are not real. They are just few and far, far, far between.
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These days, I believe that if God is not a prankster, maybe he will allow me in my final years to find someone to love, to share my life with and not be a burden to.
LEAVING WOODSTOCK
There are days, when I search for words that no longer flow, or the stories that no longer come. Although, rather than borrow from others or try and create an artificial description, I leave it all alone for a while, until the words and stories, once again begin to emerge, and I might, once again, find the gift of putting pen to hand.
These days my time has grown short, and life as I knew it is slowly fading and passing into a place that we all must travel eventually. I have seen many friends leaving Woodstock without ever going anyplace else. They have, as one might say, become part of the history of this mysterious little town. Their names are spoken in whispers, as if in speaking them they might invoke some magical spell.

So my friends, the time has come to retrace my steps and leave this place. I shall go in the way that I originally came and place my feet in the steps that brought me here, in such a way that you will not find me. Yes, that is correct; I have decided to leave Woodstock by walking backwards… just to see how things have changed since I came.
Please… don’t look for me… for I am… nowhere to be found!