Jamieson Wolf's Blog, page 70
May 18, 2015
Who I Had Become – A Poem
I hadn’t been
through the suitcase
for some time.
It had sat
forgotten in my
storage locker. I
unzipped it and
found many forgotten
items. Among them
was an engagement
ring that a
man from my
past had given
Its shine
was gone, its
lustre dimmed. I
did not remember
who I had
been when he
had placed the
ring on my finger.
I could picture
him though: a
little lost, afraid,
surrounded by people
in the bar
where he had
given his proposal.
There was never
any question in
his mind that
I would accept.
I wore the
ring but after
only a little
time, it felt
too tight, as
if it was
burning my skin.
This was not
a fear of
commitment, but only
what I would
become when I
was wedded to
him. I remember
one of the
first things he
said when meeting
me face to
face for the
very first time.
“Well, you can stand to lose a little weight, you’re quite fat. I’ll design a workout for you though.”
There were no
terms of endearment,
only criticisms. He
would look at
me after I
had said something
off the cuff.
“Oh, my little freak. Who’s my little freak?”
As I came
to know him,
I realized how
little we had
in common, how
little we had
to talk about.
“Why do you read so much? Would you please put down the book and stop ignoring me?”
That was his
constant bitter refrain.
“What joy can there be in books, my little freak?”
When I found
the ring, all
this came rushing
back to me,
condensed into a
single memory, as
if there was
a time lapse
camera inside of
my head. I
saw who and
what I had
been. It was
made even more
clear to me
what I had
become. I was
stronger, I was
more whole and
made complete by
the love of
a man who
loved me unconditionally,
who loved everything
about me, who
cherished every thing
that made me
all of who
I was. I looked
at the ring
with no remorse
for what had
transpired, no hate
towards that man,
nor did I
hate who I
had been. Instead,
I looked at
the ring and
said, softly:
“Thank you for showing me that I was worth more. Thank you for showing me what I didn’t want. Thank you for showing me that I was stronger than I thought I was.”
Then I let
the ring fall
from my fingers
into the trash,
along with who
I had been.
I turned away
and instead focused
on who I
had become.
May 14, 2015
Bus Guru – A Poem
He sat on 
bus in the
front seats. He
had his legs
crossed, and thus
he had three
seats to himself.
He had long,
shaggy black hair
and he wore
sandals on his
feet that were
falling apart. Even
from my seat,
he smelled of
something akin to
rust and dirt,
as if he
carried the scent
of earth and
grass with him.
His hands were
together as if
he was in
prayer. There were
a stream of
words coming from
his mouth that
I couldn’t fail
to overhear from
my seat. I
leaned in a
little closer while
everyone else kept
as far away
from him as
was humanly possible.
“They say God doesn’t exist, but I know that God is many things, he’s the ground we walk on, the clouds we walk under, the sky they are painted on. He has many names, so many names.”
A woman sitting
closer to him
than I was
let out a
snort of laughter.
He didn’t stop
flow of words.
“See how they laugh at you, how they choose not to know you. Even the most un-religious person must agree that our home came from someone. The angels tell me you exist and so you must, my faith is that strong.”
He kept his
eyes closed, but
still managed to
look peaceful as
if he were
talking to a
friend. Perhaps he
was. Maybe there
was a link
between him and
a higher power.
The woman laughed
this time instead
of snorting. The
man turned his
head towards her,
though he still
didn’t open his
eyes. He pointed
a finger at
her and she
almost shrunk into
her seat.
“You are married to a man who you do not love. Love him or let him go.”
She gasped and
put a hand
to her mouth.
He pointed to
a man sitting
behind the woman.
“You are too angry. People are afraid of you. Let the light in to chase the darkness away. Only then will you be happy.”
The man made
a sound like
he was clearing
his throat and
coughing at the
same time. He
turned his head
and pointed at
me. I wondered
what he would
say, what wisdom
I had to
learn, what God
or the angels
had to say.
He was quiet
for a moment
but then spoke,
ever so softly.
“Sparkle on.”
He said. It
was as if
the whisper came
from someone else,
sounding different than
his normal voice.
I wondered if
one of the
angels spoke through him.
“Sparkle on.”
May 8, 2015
A Joy All Her Own – A Poem
They greeted each 
other like old
friends. They sat
in the front
of the bus
and I was
only a seat
away from them.
The woman spoke
first, the smile
on her face
giving joy to
her voice. She
motioned to the
man as if
he had already
spoken to her.
���I���m on my way to see someone at the office that runs the shelter. They say they might have an apartment for me.���
Her eyes lit
up with undeniable
happiness, giving a
glow to her
dark skin. The
man across from
her was older
and kept readjusting
his ball cap.
He gave her
a toothy grin.
���You���re on the way to get an apartment. That���s fantastic. I���m so happy for you!���
���Yes, well, I���m a little worried.���
���Why, you should be dancing! I danced for an entire night when the mens shelter found me an apartment. A whole home, just for me!���
She thought about
it for a
moment before responding.
���That���s what I���m worried about. There are one hundred and forty of us at the shelter. I won���t have to fight for the shower anymore!���
She smiled at
this simple gift.
���Imagine that, not fighting for the shower!���
���Or the toilet. Or wearing flip flops to the bathroom!���
���Oh, won���t that be nice.���
She said, her
face filled with
childlike joy so
potent the front
of the bus
seemed to shine.
���I wonder what I���ll do first.���
She said happily.
���I think maybe I���ll make the bed. Won���t that be wonderful? Or maybe clean the place from top to bottom.���
Her face crumpled
slightly and the
joy slipped a
little from her
face. When she
spoke next, her
voice was softer.
���I���m afraid though.���
���Why are you afraid? You���ll have a place all your own!���
���That���s what I���m afraid of. I haven���t been alone for so long. There has always been someone nearby, sometimes too close.���
���Then you have to get to know yourself. This is a gift, a joy!���
I watched the
woman nod enthusiastically.
���Do you live with anyone? Is there someone waiting at home for you?���
The man nodded.
���My fianc��e.���
���Oh, what���s her name?���
���She hasn���t told me yet. But she will.���
It was then
that I realized
they didn���t know
each other and
were just meeting
for the first
time. I wondered
why they would
just start talking
to each other
as if they
were old friends.
Perhaps they saw
the same spark
in each other,
the same otherness
that set them
apart from everyone
else. The woman
rang the bell.
���Are you getting off here?���
���Yes, you going straight to their office?���
���Yes, to be shown my apartment!���
Her whole face
smiled. Gently, the
man shook his
head as they
moved towards the
door. He held
out his hand
to the woman.
���No, your joy. A joy all your own.���
Her face smiled
more brightly than
before and she
took his hand.
���Yes, my joy. A joy all my own.���
The bus stopped
and I watched
them for as
long as I
could, before the
bus zoomed away
leaving the woman
and her joy
behind me but
with me at
the same time.
May 6, 2015
Elemental Man – A Poem
You are the sun to me,
bright like Fire.
Every time I look into your eyes,
my world is brighter and
filled with light.
You are the wind to me
Every time you speak my name,
it���s like a soft breeze
caressing my face.
You are the Earth to me,
supporting me with each
step that I take.
You are water to me.
Every time you tell me
that you love me,
my body and soul are
nourished by you.
You are the Element
that brings all of me to life
and you make my Spirit
whole.
April 29, 2015
When Two Stars Meet – A Poem
When I was
younger, there was
a star I
used to wish
upon. I would
always be able
to find it
in the sky
as it shone
the brightest. It
was with me
through thick and
thin, guiding me
through my past
and present. I
would wish upon
it, waiting for
the dream to
come true. A
few weeks before
I met you,
the star vanished.
I would look
for it within
the sky, but
it was gone.
Then I met
you and the
first thing I
noticed about you
was your light,
as if your
body couldn���t contain
all of it.
I wondered if
I had been
a star for
you within your
own sky, guiding
you towards your
future, towards me.
As I grew
to know you,
then to love
you, I wondered
what two stars
who were earthbound
would look like
from above and
how brightly we
shone now that
we were together.
April 24, 2015
Free Sparkle! (or Free Books!)
Everyone loves free books, right? I know I do.
I’m going to be celebrating this weekend for two reasons: I’m moving in with the man I love (YAY!) and I’ll be taking part in the MS Walk again, with him and my family and friends walking with me! How cool is that?
Well, what better way to celebrate than with free books? Plus, I just felt like sharing some of the love. That way, we all get to sparkle.
I’ve decided to share three books, a play, a book of short stories and a book of poems. Why three books? Well, all good things come in threes. Here they are in no particular order:
Talking with the Earth (Poems)
Talking with the Earth contains poems that are part memoir, part journey to healing. All the conversations contained within are real or imagined. The poems are the author’s attempt to find his place in the world and to carve his own path through life. With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.
When Love Blooms (Stories)
Welcome to the village of Inglewood Hamlet.
Nestled between a large forest and sprawling mountains, Inglewood Hamlet is home to many. Some that live within the village are like us. Others that live there have powers told in myth, legend and lore.
There, magic runs free. There, you might meet a Mermaid longing for her lost love. You might happen upon a shape shifter who has never known true love. You might chance to hear a conversation between a Dryad and a Queen, or witness the reunion between a King and his Fool.
There are all kinds of Love in Inglewood Hamlet. And all you have to do is let Love bloom���
After/Life (Play)
Three teens are defending themselves against an unseen voice. All are reliving one horrible night of their existence…
Veronique, Barbie and Justin are all asked to relive one evening of their lives where things went drastically wrong. After a car accident claims the lives of three people, and injures several more, Justin is held suspect.
He was the one driving the car.
But not all is as it seems. And there are secrets to be learned that could change everything. Each of them is carrying a secret they have not told each other. There is also one voice, that belonging to Toby, who holds the biggest secret of all.
What will the ultimate judge make of their case and will Justin be able to go free?
Now, I chose these books because they all have to do with love in one way or another. The poems contained in Talking with the Earth are about my continued battle with MS and other subjects, but there’s a lot of love poems contained within the collection and that has everything to do with Michael.
When Love Blooms concerns the town of Inglewood Hamlet. In the collection, I wanted to write fairy tales that examined all different kinds of love in one way or another.
In After/Life, things take a dark turn but, ultimately, even the most harrowing acts can be done out of love.
The eBooks will be free on Amazon starting tomorrow, April 25th until April 29th. They can be read on your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, PC and any Android device (just make sure that if you don’t have a Kindle, you download the app first).
If you enjoy the books, feel free to share this post and review them on Amazon. I really hope you have fun delving into the worlds I’ve created and that you keep calm and sparkle on!
Happy Reading everyone!
April 21, 2015
Body Music – A Poem
I try to
think of my
body as an
orchestra. The musicians
are busy warming
up and getting
ready to play
something wonderful. I
listen to the
musicians warming up
all their instruments.
The pains
and spasms in
my body are
like music. The
twinges in my
shoulders? The percussion
section banging on
cymbals. The slow
throb of pain
in my legs?
They are but
cellos playing a
soulful tune. The
intense stabs of
hot needles in
my back? Violins,
playing aggressively. The
fatigue, pulling me
into sleep? They
are but flutes
touching notes that
lull me into
slumber. The temporary
speech problems? It���s
the conductor getting
ready. The loss
of balance as
I try to
walk? It���s the
audience taking their
seats. Something good
always comes from
something bad and
my pain is
really my bodies
music, and my
body is a
symphony of sound
and colour. Every
morning, I take
a moment to
see what kind
of tune it
will play today.
I listen to
my body and
the music that
it makes, hoping
to hear something
beautiful.
April 20, 2015
Lies I Told by Michelle Zink – A Book Review
Grace knows that everyone lies. She also knows that she’s living one.
To the outside world, she is part of the perfect family: devoted parents, loving brother. She is a girl with the world at her fingertips. What the world doesn’t know is that it’s all a lie, a carefully constructed one.
She is part of a family of con-artists. Adopted at a young age, she is part of the con. In exchange for her work, she has a family, such as it is. It’s preferable to the life she left behind, one of foster care and abuse. Now she has safety, as long as she follows the rules.
They travel all over looking for the next mark, the next job, the next person to steal from: money, art, bonds, nothing is safe Grace is used to this, for it’s the only life she’s ever known. However, sometimes, she wishes she were just a regular teenager, able to have friends, to have a life of her own.
It’s always the same, though. They move in, set up house, find their mark and pull their con. Then they move on, leaving everything and everyone behind. Or, in Grace’s case, almost everything.
She knows it goes against the code of the con-artist, but she has a small wooden box containing items from her different pasts to remind her of who she was and who she is. Grace knows that it’s wrong to hold onto anything from a previous con, but she holds on to her keepsakes nonetheless as if she’s gathering pieces of herself.
Everything changes when they find themselves in Playa Hermosa. The mark is a wealthy family and the heist will be their largest yet. She has one job: get close to the son, Logan, to find an in into the family.
She integrates herself into school, makes friends with others and all is going according to plan. What she didn’t count on was falling for Logan. He was supposed to be just another part of the heist. She had used boys to achieve her means before, but had never fallen for one.
This time, the emotions she feels for Logan are all too real. She has trouble distinguishing between the Logan she loves and Logan the mark.
Things begin to unravel for Grace when one of the other high school students finds an old high school photo ID that Grace was stupid enough to take to school with her. She had been using it as a talisman of sorts to give her strength.
Now it could mean her downfall…
In short, I was blown away by this book. Lies I Told isn’t just a novel that you read. It’s a novel that you feel, that seeps into you; one that leaves you feeling a kind of shell shock when it’s over. What I loved most about it was the underlying sense of unease worked all throughout the novel. You can’t escape the sense that something will go wrong.
That’s an incredible feat for any author to carry throughout a whole novel. Michelle Zink manages to do this with aplomb, never letting up the suspense for a moment. Add to it one of the most moving young love stories I’ve ever read and you’ve got yourself a winner.
This is Zink’s first novel that has no fantasy elements whatsoever and it’s an incredible success. You can tell that she’s done her research for this novel, nothing feels too heavy handed or fake. She brings you into a family of con-artists and it’s like we’re there with her. We sense the danger, the unease, the upset.
What really worked for me was the characters and how real they were. Logan, Parker and Grace were the stand outs for me. Logan goes beyond the standard book boyfriend in the YA genre and is a real man, full of compassion and honesty. Parker is a surprise for me. He knows what he must do but fights against it. He’s in a constant state of breakdown.
Grace is the real stand out for me, though. She isn’t really a heroine but an ant-hero. However, you can’t help but feel for her, following her along on her struggle to do what is right and what her heart wants. Michelle writes so well that you can’t help but be pulled into Grace’s plight, loving Logan right along with her and dreading what she must do.
This was a thrill ride the whole way through and the ending will leave you breathless. Lies I Told is really the best book that Michelle Zink has written, and I’ve read them all. This is Zink’s most accomplished novel, her most adult YA. It deals with themes that aren’t normally dealt with in YA literature and succeeds because of this.
I can’t wait to read Lies I Told all over again.
Clouds and Spirit Wind – A Poem
My mind is
full of clouds
and my spirit
is the wind.
The clouds are
shaped like you.
I can see
the outline of
your chin, the
strong set of
your jaw, it’s
disapproving frown seeming
to mock me
as it did
so many times
before. Lately, I’ve
started to forget
you. The timbre
of your voice
when you got
angry, the colour
of your eyes.
What your middle
name was or
your birthday. Those
details ceased to
matter, though I
thought they would
be burned into
my mind forever.
The more I
forgot, the more
I was able
to let go.
As I look
at the clouds
inside my head,
they begin to
disassemble, the wind
of my spirit
growing ever stronger,
a storm without
lightening. I watch
the growing breeze
and wonder why
what you thought
of me mattered
so much, why
I’ve carried pieces
of you around
with me like
a hair shirt
made of needles.
Why I’ve based
my self-worth on
someone who isn’t
worth anything to
me anymore; who
didn’t treat me
like I was
worth anything at
all except a
convenience. I stare
at the clouds
as they continue
to shift and
watch as the
outline of your
face begins to
disappear, the shape
of your brow
begins to lessen.
Thunder from the
clouds that make
your shape and
form let out
a rumble of
thunder and there
is a streak
lightning in my
head that flashes
sharp like a
knife. I take
a deep breath.
“I let you go.”
I whisper softly.
“As I forget you, I let you go.”
My spirit grew
brighter than a
star, shining brilliantly
upon the clouds.
It began to
gather force, creating
its own wind
to push away
the gathering storm.
The spirit wind
ran at the
growing mass of
darkness and pushed
the clouds away,
forced them to
break apart until
there was nothing
left but smoke
and vapour. I
looked up at
the bright blue
sky within me
and my entire
body felt full
of the light
that had always
been within me.
“I’ve let you go.”
I said and
took comfort from
how free of
clouds the sky
was.
April 11, 2015
Dance Across the Page – A Poem
In the dream,
I’m talking about
my writing, about
the novel I’m
working on, the
poems that I’m
writing, the short
stories I’m bringing
to life. I
see myself in
the dream and
my face looks
so lively, animated.
I happen to
look down at
my feet and
see that, for
some reason, I’m
wearing dance shoes.
They are leaving
ink stains on
the floor as
I walk along
with my companion.
Then I look
closer and see
that the floor
is made out
of paper, that
I am leaving
footprints shaped like
words behind me.
I wake, only
for a moment,
wondering what the
dream meant. When
sleep finds me
once again, I
find myself in
another dream. I’m
talking to a
fellow writer about
the dream I
just had. I’m
looking at her
in bewildered confusion.
“I just don’t understand what the dream meant.”
I tell her.
“I don’t understand what it was trying to tell me.”
She gives me
a look of
patience, as if
the meaning behind
the dream should
have been obvious.
“I think the meaning is pretty clear. You’re a writer. You can’t keep your words bottled up. You have to dance across the page.”
I wake with
a start, wondering
at the almost
dream within a
dream, at what
my subconscious was
telling me. I
feel the urge
to write, I
need to write.
It is who
I am.
