Poetry from Julie Jordan Scott

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Poetry: Loving The Best Words We Choose



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« March 29, 2020 - April 4, 2020 | Main

April 05, 2020

Pronoun Play with Whispers - and More; Whispers - A Poem

Tonight I was working on graphics for the National Poetry Month series I'm creating in my Word-Love Writing Community on Facebook. It started with reading interviews of Celeste Ng, author of Little Fires Everywhere

 It turned into a dance of sorts with feelings deep inside my belly and this poem is the first creative expression to be conceived and (at least a first draft) born of it.

I guess this is what happens when one stops blaming herself for every ill will that occurs in her life. Sometimes other people are at cause of the pain that appears in your life, my love. This is one of those cases.

Play with different pronouns.

Whispers: A Poem

They never let me say it

They never let me face them and declare it

They never wanted to engage in the possibility

They might be wrong to behave

the way they did and probably still do

You don’t have to protect the world from harm

You were not made to sacrifice everything for everyone else

You do not deserve to be slashed open in order for others to thrive

You may

She almost wrote trust but that’s too big

That’s too big I cannot and I will not and no, you can’t they can’t

Make me trust because it is too

Say the word

I won’t they never let me say it

They never let me face them and declare

It they never wanted to engage in the

Possibility they weren’t safe to be trusted

Because they are dangerous because

They have never engaged in the truth of the dark

They have only been reckless in the lies of the dark

Whispered what they thought would get them what they wanted

In the dark, not the subtle nuances of the curved lines

That can’t be explained

How dare they say,

How dare you say

How dare he say

I can’t yet say it.

==@==@==@==@

And this is the point I chose to step back and go with what was able to be said. 

I will return to hear what more is out there - waiting to be translated. 

Posted at 07:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Words Pour Out (Day 3 National Poetry Month)

This poem poured out of me, took me by surprise.

I realized afterwards I have written some prose about my near death experience, but poetry.... I hadn't been ready. It reminded me of how long it took me to write about autism in my family. It felt like it would be too painful and the emotions might sweet me away.

It took a search on Flickr for the word "Fall" to bring forth this poem that had clearly been waiting for me to write this: Poem falling


September 30, 2011: a Giant Sequoia fell and no one knew why. She is standing in the upper left part of this frame.
.
Estimated age? Close to 1800 - 2000 years.
 
Poem #3: Fall: Words Pour Out
.
Sixteen months after
the shutter clicked
this Giant fell.
I haven’t visited 
in eight years 
or ninety six and
then some months
and I wonder if she
is still there, decomposing
across the hundred
giant trail?
 
Five months ago I 
wasn’t breathing well
and I had a fever and I
went to the hospital and
had a nurse named Paloma
who waved to me so sadly
as they wheeled me into
ICU and I didn’t understand
why. At first I just got so cold
before the nurse came to
cover me as I shivered 
without control it felt like the
ocean was folding over 
my body and water was 
filling everything but I
could not think or speak or
register blood oxygen
so the people in masks
and scrubs filled my 
pretty hospital room and now
when I think of people
dying so quickly I think
I came so close
and I didn’t and
I’m so sorry they did
 
I want to walk the 
trail again, touch her
tree skin, pay my
respects tell her
I remember “Julie - wake up” “Her heart rate goes low
while she sleeps- 
watch out for that”
 
They whisper as if
I’m nothing more than
a pronoun
 
These memories fall
and I can’t do anything
to stop them. .
--
 
--
   
 
 
 
ReplyForward
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Posted at 06:24 PM in National Poetry Month, poem, poetry, writing prompt | Permalink | Comments (0)

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