Poetry from Julie Jordan Scott

#OctPoWriMo Poem 13: Delightful Dictionary Caper, Part One

Yesterday's OctPoWriMo prompt suygested choosing words from a page in the dictionary.

I used a dictionary page from my Writing Playground workshop this weekend. We painted book pages to use in art projects and for “workshop favors”. This page was one I brought and I love the colors so I circled willy nilly and found the parade of P’s did not want to stop with the words I circled.

Sometimes alliterative silliness is exactly what is needed to bring poetry onto the page in unexpected ways.

Some of the words I use may be unfamiliar to you as they were to me:

praeposter: a senior student at an English public school who is given authority over other students

praetor: (in the ancient Roman republic) elected magistrates charged chiefly with the administration of civilian justice

pragmatics: the branch of semiotic dealing with the causal and other relations between words, expressions or symbols

prairie phlox: a flower that grows in the Eastern Midwest of the United States. It has white flowers. Not sure if this is the same phlox that grows here in Bakersfield or not! :-)

Chilly February night before the practicum

her head fell to the feather pillow

the penultimate night before

her fate as praeposter was proposed.

or Not…

 

“Or Not”

“Or Not”

“Or Not”

a praise choir proclaimed

notes and rhythms causing

the prairie grass to prance

like wild ponies celebrating.

In the center sat a magistrate

apparently of Rome

in an impossibly pizzazzy

pearl coated throne

 

“Imposter?” she wondered

“Praetor impersonator?”

Her feet pushed her forward

weightlessly on plush grasses

the apparent praetor wore

a prairie phlox crown atop her

Veronica Lake tresses

“A prettier version of me?”

she whispered aloud….

 

“Nothing in prepared me to

pleaded this case.

There is nothing practical about

posing imperially in the middle

of the prairie when my present

academy is in the outskirts

of London!”

 

The Veronica-Lake-Like-Other

Her,  scepter raised high

promulgated,

“Pragmatics, not practicalities

need to be explored!”

with a matching thunderclap

 

Her sleeping eyes opened to find

her patterned quilt may as well

have been floating over Prague

“No more pragmatism!”

She shouted, rolling

over in her weariness

“It makes dreamy sleep

Images too preposterous!”

-- Julie Jordan Scott

 

The Lovely Veronica Lake with the Beautiful Hair!

Purple (appropriate, yes?) prairie phlox

 

Flittering Minnions - An #OctPoWriMo Poem, Day 6

 

Occasionally saccharine flavored optimism

Releases a flock of monarchs

            Stepping in front of an audience

            Preparing for a special occasion

            Gathering of new friends

 

Flitting in my belly

Slight quickening now nausea

            And I remember

 

            I remember before

Anxiety built a steel birdcage

Inpenetrable tho small, for a finch

Doubt and blundering pushes the limits

            (Less pretty than a sparrow)

 

            I remember now

            Angry mob boss yelling, his

gut the obvious leader

Gathered moles grab sledgehammers

Pummel my belly, bruised and battered

a bleeding memento

smirking at the optimism

that may no longer be

 

-- Julie Jordan Scott

 >> -- <<

This is my response to Day 6's prompt: Butterflies.

Obviously, a dark cloud overtook me. Rather than hide from it or run ashamed from my OctPoWriMo friends, I just went with it.

Happy October, all!

Poetry: My Forever.... Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom

The rhythm is all around me

Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom

Red walls or red blanket or red.... what?

Can't seem to discern the relevant words

In retelling this pre-language tale.

Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom

I am here -

You are here -

We are here -

All is good -

We are safe -

There is love -

There is love -

There is love -

I hear what I now know are voices.

I feel what I now know are my mother's hands,

touching my red blanket home,

caressing my red blanket home,

my red blanket home touches and

caresses me.

My thumb in my mouth takes

that caress and translates it into

comfort -

bum boom bum boom bum boom.

all is well -

all is well -

all is well -

Love is here.

Love is here -

Love is here -

Poetry lived with me

in my mother's womb.

There was never a choice

there simply was:

love love love -

prelanguage notions

of poetry translated

by crayon three years later.

My mother copied letters with love

My little self copied straight lines and curves.

Bum Boom Bum Boom Bum Boom

Poetry has been my forever companion

Never leaves me.

Never chooses anyone else.

Caresses my neck when it is tight.

Covers me with a  blanket when my

feet are cold.

Bum Boom, Bum Boom, Bum Boom.....

-- Julie Jordan Scott

 

Related articles

New Rendition (A Magpie Tales - Norman Rockwell Inspired Poem)

Electricity: An Acrostic Poem - (Have no idea what is up with this Fictional Poetry Character!) :-)

i am most certainly not hiding.... an #OctPoWriMo poem

A brief preface: The "You" mentioned by the speaker in this poem is not YOU the reader, it is "You" the community at large, as she sees it. Many times when I write in first person it is not necessarily my voice you are hearing, it is some fictitious poetry character I create in the moment. Because confessional poetry is so much more common than fictional poetry, I wanted to declare that before people started either apologizing to me or getting angry at me. Phew! Glad to make that straight!

 

blue word cocoon

wraps me in a net of

productivity:

idol, deity, pin-up girl

I worship

will not

can not

shall not

abandon

without

just

cause

 

some might call this

Hiding.

i call it time stewardship.

wise

wonderful

satisfying

committed

sanity

saver

no matter what

you busybodies

say

#####

This poem reflects the theme of hiding, as offered by the OctPoWriMo prompt on October 2, 2013. If you have yet to hear of OctPoWriMo, it is a month long poetry challenge: 31 Poems in 31 Days. As you can see, it is flexable to a degree - I am not posting this until the morning of October 3, simply because my mind was crafting it throughout the day yesterday AND I didn't have adequate keyboard time to get it out to the world and YOU! Join us and enjoy!!

New Rendition (A Magpie Tales - Norman Rockwell Inspired Poem)

This morning I was busily working on a blog post writing about ekphrastic poetry for an OctPoWriMo. My primary intention is to preparing poets to write a poem a day during the month of October. I was reading articles and essays and poems on Poets.org and thought, “I’ll pop over to Magpie Tales and see what Tess Kincaid, et al are up to. Haven’t been there lately…” and boom. As often happens, the simple act of communing with art and other poets births a poem (or at least a first draft of a poem.)

The art is Boy in a Dining Car by Norman Rockwell. The boy posing is Peter Rockwell, the painter’s son.

Once I read Tess’ poem (my attempt at coming up with suitable adjectives is coming up blank), my hands itched to pen something, too. To read the other poet’s translations of art to poetry – and perhaps write your own – visit "The Mag" at Magpie Tales here each Sunday for new artful inspiration.

New Rendition

Earnest eyes will listen.

Scuffed sneakers know

The shame of exclusion.

The ripeness of hunger.

The longing to please.

Be heard.

For once

The gift of a random someone

Showing compassion.

Before this moment

Is left on the prairie.

On the way to

Maple St and Monroe Avenue.

-          Julie Jordan Scott

-          September 8, 2013

Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

Please stay in touch: Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot    

  Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)

Follow on Instagram

And naturally, on Pinterest, too!

© 2013

 

Contingency Plans: An #OctPoWriMo Poem Day 29

I followed today's OctPoWriMo prompt, but you would never know it from the outcome.

Contingency plans: if this happens, that happens
If this doesn't happen that won't happen
If you are not up to our standards of liking
Nothing will happen

Contingency plans: if you change your thoughts
to no longer match ours, if you drift into
any unfamiliar territory that doesn't match us
Nothing will happen

Contingency plans: forever grieving the other
I listen, numb to the smarting of my dead skin
Maybe that's why I have it, so inside your rant
Nothing will happen

Contingency plans: scoop up my not-so-little ones
Continue to evolve without the need for outside
relationship. Holding arms out - high - forget
Nothing will happen

Follow me on Twitter: @juliejordanscot   

Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook (THANK YOU!) 

© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

#OctPoWriMo Day 24: Fellini Told Me So It Must Be True

I borrowed the words to inspire my poem from Terry Tempest Williams Book, When Women Were Birds. The words she loaned me were Beyond, Walking & Blue.

Fellini Told Me So It Must Be True

Blue on Blue on Blue

Sky ocean eyes

beginning irrelevant

ending unnoticed

passion served on the page-plate.

Music pushes the pencil

beyond vibe of the electric guitar.

Waves play the sound

of unraised light switches

last year’s Christmas lights

yearning to be lit,

wrapped in a neat

not quite circle

across baggies filled

with silvery Santa Clauses.

She walks to the attic

to push the Easter boxes away.

Chattering jogger won’t stop -

unable to hear the gentle mama bird

won’t quietly blush at the sea lion’s

romantic interlude wooing the

Plein air writer. She understands

what it means to take a morning

walk beyond the boundaries

Grey on grey on grey

Path Fog Walrus

 

 

There is still time to participate in OctPoWriMo: Check out today's prompt & join us on twitter and facebook. Stretch, grow and enjoy a supportive creative community.

Follow me on Twitter: @juliejordanscot 

Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook (THANK YOU!) 

© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

  Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

Did you enjoy this poem? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -

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A Random Gift from Toni - #OctPoWriMo Poem #22

Today's OctPoWrimo prompt was RANDOM. Something happened last night which was completely random, so I decided to use that as my inspiration. I may write more poetry later as I used a different form today - the Etheree - and it (also randomly?) makes me want to experiment.

I may pick a strange fact out of a bowl and write of it. That sounds like fun!

For now.... a random meeting on my front porch last night lived again for you:

A Random Gift from Toni

Two

Kittens

Scamper

To my bare feet

Sweet yellow felines

Where did you come from, sweethearts?

Samuel’s laughter rises with their

Feet, hopping, darting under the… house?

Yellow bundles of fluff live below me?

How did I not notice their birth, their mews?

Big yellow Tom cat was a Toni?

Did she leave her babies for us?

Random questions amidst shock

First stop: vet’s office

No more random

Kittens will

Appear

here

View from the 19th Floor #Englynn (Soldier Version) Reflection: #OctPoWriMo Day 14 -

I love writing challenges partly because they teach me new forms, take me to new heights and occasionally make me angry. Today I decided to try writing an ancient Celtic form of poetry. I was trying a different form of Englynn (trying to be oh-so-fancy) but decided against it.

So, without a proper photo illutration... since my cell phone with camera is AWOL.... I am posting a couple OTHER reflection my first ever Englynn here with my friends from OctPoWriMo.

View from the 19th Floor

Mirror against the building’s wall

Lengthy as Cahuenga is tall

One-oh-one? Grandest of all

===

To find out more about Celtic Poetry forms, visit here.

To participate in OctPoWriMo (You are always welcome, it is never too late... visit here....

Follow me on Twitter: @juliejordanscot 

Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook (THANK YOU!) 

© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

 Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

Did you enjoyed this essay? Receive emails directly to your inbox for Free from Julie Jordan Scott via the Daily Passion Activator. One inspirational essay and poem (almost) every week day. Subscribe here now -

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OctPoWriMo Poem 2/31: Seventy Five Minutes on Tuesday

Alert readers: This is a poem written in character. I took the prompt I wrote for OctPoWriMo today very seriously.

First, I brainstormed some questions on a sheet of paper. 

Then I tore them the questions up...

 

up and drew this one:

 

So there you have it. My OctPoWriMo day two assignment from myself is to write a character poem about someone you don't like written in the voice of an adoring fan.

I kind of stuck with my own suggestion but wow, it was harder than you would think.

So - here goes nothing.

Seventy Five Minutes on Tuesday

The way he micromanages takes the worry off my fragile shoulders.

His use of ethnic accents and voices of handicapped people is charming.

I don’t know why some people find it offensive...

He is generous and compliments me profusely each time we meet.

I don’t know why that one woman with the red hair told me to watch out,

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing is he.”

She just doesn’t understand the complexity he wears behind his classes

The inner creative spirit that roams through his book he needs to feed

and constantly, I mean constantly needs absolutely regular musing.

I am glad, grateful, thrilled he sought me out

To be Tuesday’s Muse.

I am the only Tuesday’s Muse.

This is something, isn’t it?

All day Tuesday, or all night Tuesday or Tuesday

From 6:30 to 7:45 he gives full attention

And affection to me and only me.

75 minutes are mine.

Of how many minutes a week?

My shoulders droop.

Not enough.

Never enough.

Not for the weak woman that is me.