Jamieson Wolf's Blog, page 73
February 3, 2015
You Have My Heart – A Poem
I agonized over
what to get
him for Love
Day. It had
never been my
favourite day, it
had always been
a day of
heartache instead of
light. I commented
on this one
night as Love
Day was fast
approaching. He took
my hands in
his and smiled.
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
He said kindly.
“But I do. I have to find something for you that shows you how much I love you.”
He saw the
look of anguish
on my face
and smiled again.
“You already have given me something.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You have. Look.”
He took my
hand and touched
it to his
chest. Under my
hand, a brilliant
golden light began
to shine forth.
“That’s your heart. You gave it to me the first time you told me you loved me.”
I felt my
hearts warmth emanating
from him. He
took his hand
and pressed it
to my chest.
Gold light spilled
from beneath his
hand and the
light pulsated in
time with the
light that came
from his chest.
“If you have my heart, what’s inside of you?”
“Don’t you know?”
I shook my
head, seeing him
smile once again.
“It’s my heart. I gave it to you the first time I told you I loved you.”
I was breathless
with want for
him at that
moment and kissed
him softly on
his gorgeous lips.
When our lips
met, our hearts
sang to each
other, filling the
room with soft
golden light
January 31, 2015
A Man Remembered – A Poem
There was a sea
of police cars in
front of my building.
They dotted the pavement,
their lights shining like
flowers caught in the snow.
Entering my building,
I saw a stretcher in front
of the elevators. It was
red and empty. I wondered
what had happened,
if someone was hurt.
I saw the super standing
by the elevators, as if lost.
He looked unreachable.
I moved towards him,
called his name softly so
that he would hear me.
I had the sense something
was very wrong indeed.
He looked up at me,
hearing my approach.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
My voice seemed loud,
echoing off the lobby walls,
the lobby itself somehow
bigger than it was.
When he raise his eyes to mine,
they were red and swollen,
tears having dried along his face,
marking his skin like ink.
“You know the man downstairs?”
He asked me. His voice was cracked
and dry, as if he had forgotten
how to speak. I shook my head,
unsure of who he meant.
“He wasn’t well. Very paranoid. He’d changed his locks so no one could get in.”
I was silent, not sure what to say;
not sure there was anything
that could be said. The super
let out a sound that was
part breathe of release
and part sob. He took a
deep breath and I imagined him
swallowing the sob, as if he
taking it back into him.
“I’ve never seen a dead body. People were complaining about the smell.”
I found my voice, a small
quiet part of it that slipped
past my lips
“Didn’t anyone know him? Any family? Someone must have known him.”
The super shook his head,
more tears sliding down his
face in the tracks left
by the ones that had dried.
“He didn’t have anyone. He was alone.”
The sob broke free then and he
turned away for a moment.
When he turned back, he was
more composed, holding it together.
“You always hear about this in the movies, you know? This doesn’t feel like a movie.”
I nodded, my voice having gone again.
I needed to get away, to feel the
cool air upon my face.
As I walked out of my building,
I watched the blue and red lights
make patterns on the snow.
I breathed in the air,
relishing its bite,
grateful that I was alive
to feel it upon my skin.
When I walked back into my building,
they were bringing the stretcher
out of the elevator. This time,
it wasn’t empty. This time,
the man lay upon it,
encased in a cocoon. It reminded me
of a red chrysalis.
I stood to the side as
other men took the man outside
and away from me.
I watched him go and wondered
why there was no one that
would find out about him,
no one who would miss him,
mourn his passing, no one
who would remember him
for the man that he used to be.
I gave the super a final nod,
which he returned, before
going back inside my apartment.
Once inside, gathered some sage
that I had purchased.
I said a short prayer for him
and hoped that he could hear me.
“I just want you to know that even though we never met, I’ll remember you.”
I took a breath than and
lit the sage, watching the flakes
turn into fragrant smoke.
“You’re free now. Free. So be at peace. I’ll remember you.”
As I watched the smoke
from the sage float towards the ceiling,
I pictured his spirit,
free from the chrysalis of his body.
I pictured his spirit.
He had finally grown wings
so that he could fly
home. I watched the sage
burn out.
“I’ll remember you.”
I said.
January 30, 2015
Talking with the Earth – AVAILABLE NOW in eBook!
Hey Everyone!
I have the most awesome of news! Talking with the Earth, the follow up to the Number One Best Selling Talking to the Sky, is released in eBook!
How awesome is that? I���m thrilled!
Here���s the book blurb:
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.
Take a walk along the Earth, won’t you?
It���s out in eBook now and you can find it here:
It���ll be out in paperback shortly. In the meantime, get yourself an eBook copy and start reading today!
It collects a year���s worth of poems as I continue to find my voice anew and hone it. A lot of the poems in the collection really surprised me. Unlike Talking to the Sky, this time around, I remember every one.
I am so proud of this book. I hope you come with me on my journey.
January 29, 2015
Warrior of Wind and Stars – A Poem
You are a Warrior.
With the Wind
as your steed,
you glide forward,
never looking back.
With the Stars
as your armor,
you are protected
and stand against
those who would
keep you down.
With the Sun
as your shield,
you defend the
honour of those
that you love.
With your Light
as your sword,
you cut away
at the darkness
so that you
continue to shine
bright for all
that know you.
Your strength and
wisdom are a
constant source of
inspiration and we
can only hope
to one day
shine as brightly
as you do.
*For Jackie, who is awesomeness personified. Happy Birthday!!!
January 28, 2015
Flower Fog – A Poem
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
The truth was,
as I saw
the woman approaching
along the crosswalk,
a smile of
recognition on her
face, I figured
she knew me.
As she came
closer, I searched
for her name,
tried to recall
it, tried to
pluck it out
of the fog
that had bloomed
inside my head
like a flower
made of fog.
As she got
near to me
and saw no
smile of recognition
in my face,
she slowed and
the smile faded
from her mouth.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
I looked at
her, at the
shape of her
face, heard the
tone of her
voice. I dived
into the fog
and hoped I
would come out
with her name.
Once, when I
saw someone who
I knew, I
called her by
a different name,
Sarah instead of
Stacey. She had
been insulted but
I didn’t bother
explaining. She wouldn’t
have understood. I
swam inside the
fog that was
like a flower
this time and
came up for
air, clutching a
name. I let
it flow from
my tongue and
hoped it was
the right one.
“Of course I know you. You’re Joanne.”
She smiled, but
it didn’t have
the same vitality
as before. She
looked slightly put
out as if
remembering her name
didn’t let me
off the hook
entirely. We talked
briefly, but it
lacked the warmth
there would have
been had I
greeted her with
a smile. I
knew she was
unnerved by the
blankness and nothingness
the fog that
not only swam
inside my head
but along my
face. We said
our goodbyes and
I walked home
proud of myself
for having remembered
her name.
Nigh (Book One) by Marie Bilodau – A Book Review
Alva Viola Taverner is a woman who has her world under control.
As a car mechanic, she is used to fixing things, putting them back in order. She has her sister and her job. That���s all she needs out of life in her small town. Everything else has let her down. However, things are about to change.
A thief breaks into her apartment. At first she���s worried that her most prized possession, her Grandmothers watch, is stolen, but its fight where she left it, safe and sound. Then things get even more bizarre when there���s a break in at the garage.
She knows without a doubt that it���s the same man who broke into her apartment. She corners him and he tells her that her Grandmothers watch has the power to stop an impending catastrophe: the veil between our world and the other has grown thin; and the things that go bump in the night are breaking free.
Soon, she���s on the run with Gruff, her boss at the garage, Al’s best friend Molly and Hector, the man who broke into her home and her work. Dangerous mists have started to roll along the roads and they can hear the sounds of others dying within them. The mists and what wait inside them are wiping out our world, one piece at a time. No one is safe.
When Alva is told that she has the only thing that can stop the impending doom, she has no choice but to trust Hector. However, will it be enough?
Or will they all die in the attempt?
I can���t tell you how amazing this book is. My meager plot summary does not do this book justice. Nigh (Book 1). Bilodeau has always been great at penning likeable, believable characters that we grow to consider friends, but in Nigh, she raises that up a notch and give us people we ache for. This is even more stupendous when you think that this is only the first part of a serialized novel.
That���s another great thing about Nigh. Bilodeau has embraced a storytelling method made popular by Charles Dickens, Armistead Maupin and Stephen King but she���s given it new life and an incredible sense of urgency. Make no mistake, you will race to the end to find out what���s going to happen, even knowing that this is only part one.
It hooks you in with elements of horror and fantasy. I was reminded of The Mist by Stephen King. I���ve read all of Bilodeau���s books, but was astounded that she had written something so dark and deadly. This is closer to a horror novel than a fantasy one, though it does have fantasy elements. Indeed, I was reminded of King mixed with Grimm���s fairy tales.
Bilodeau once again proves how adept she is with words. She’s written amazing high fantasy and thrilling space opera’s. Now she has bent and blurred the lines that separate genre���s and created something amazing.
I haven���t fallen in love with a novel like this for a while and I can���t wait to find out what happens next. Nigh is amazing, wonderful and captivating and this is only part one! It’ll be a long wait to part two.
I’ll just have to read it again.
Get your copy of Nigh (Book One) here on 29/01/2015 (tomorrow!)
January 25, 2015
(Me) (Myself) and I – A Poem
When I got
on the bus,
there wasn’t anywhere
to sit. I
had to stand.
I held on
to the pole
in front of
me, feeling the
bus move and
shift around me.
I marvelled that
I could do
such a thing,
something as simple
as riding a
bus standing up,
when a year
ago, I wouldn’t
have been able
to do so.
I noticed a
man sitting down
on a seat
to my right.
He held a
cane between his
legs. He caught
me staring and
smiled at me.
“You look like you have something to be happy about.”
I tried to
look respectful, hoping
he would forgive
my obvious rudeness
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I used to walk with a cane.”
He nodded, as
if he had
expected this response.
“What was yours named?”
“Hugo.”
I said, letting
the word out
in a breath
of soft air.
“Mine too.”
He said. He
held up his
cane and I
saw the brand
name stamped there.
“Why think of a better name when it already has one, right?”
“Right.”
I said, smiling.
He gave me
a serious look
and when he
spoke again, it
was like the
air around him
began to shimmer.
“Never be sorry for your strength. For what you’ve been able to accomplish.”
He said. He
shrugged and gave
me a smile
that I recognized
because I had
worn it. I
looked at his
face, really looked
at it and
something clicked within
me, I reached
to touch him,
to touch myself,
for he wore
my own face,
had my eyes.
He was me
as I had
been over a
year (lifetime) ago.
Me, myself
and I began
to fade away.
I wondered if
he (if I)
had been riding
the bus this
whole time, if
I had left
behind a piece
of myself. As
I thought this,
he reached out
and dropped a
small blue pebble
into my hand
“Here. You forgot this. It’s time you took it back. Don’t look back, though. Only go forward.”
“What is this? What do I do with it?”
He (I?) smiled
and gave me
a kind look.
“It’s a seed from where you used to be.”
“What do I do with it?”
He (myself?) gave
me another deep
smile, almost chuckling.
“You plant it, silly. Watch it grow. Make something wonderful out of what was. Don’t look back, only forward.”
He (me?) faded
away completely and
I was left
holding a piece
of myself that
I had forgotten.
I had not recognized
what I had
been, but I knew
who I had
become. I would
follow the advice
that I (me?)
had given myself.
I would plant
the seed and,
as it grew,
so would (me)
(myself) I.
January 16, 2015
Conversation Going Forward – A Poem
I saw him
before he saw
me. As I
had walked towards
him, it had
taken me a
moment to even
recognize him. He
looked like someone
I should know.
When I realized
who he was,
I made a
decision. I wasn’t
going to change
my path, just to
accommodate him. So
I kept walking.
His head snapped
up and looked in my
direction, almost as
if he had
heard me speak
his name. His
eyes were cold
like the air
around us, like
the snow that
fell from the
skies. We came
even nearer to
each other. I
wondered if this
would be the
time where he
would speak, would
tell me what
happened between us.
As we came
closer to each
other, he looked
as if he
was going to
say something. I
wondered what it
could be, what
he could say:
“Look, we have to talk. “
“It was all a misunderstanding.”
“I’m sorry.”
I thought of
stopping, but I
realized that what
ever he had
to say to
me had already
been said, all
those years ago.
At least, it
that was true
for me. How
odd that I
had waited for
this moment for
seven years and
now realized I
had already said
everything? He stopped
in front of
me and went
to speak, but
I kept walking
along my path
into what the
future would bring
and left him
behind me in
the past.
January 15, 2015
Now and Forever – A Poem
Just when I thought I would be
Alone for the rest of
My life,
I met you.
Every day, you
Show me that
Our love will only grow,
Now and forever. You are
A wish made, something I
Never thought would happen but
Dreamed about constantly.
My heart belongs to you.
I love you so
Completely and I’m
Honoured to have your love
And support in return.
Everything you do only makes me
Love you more.
January 3, 2015
When Goodbye Becomes Goodnight – A Poem
It’s hard to sleep
at night when half
of my heart is not
beside me.
I find it difficult
to take in a full breath,
when he is not
with me.
Every time he leaves,
saying goodbye when
the night comes
to an end,
I watch half
of my heart walk
out of the door.
I wish that I could
control time so that
I could speed it up
to the moment that
we’re able to live together.
Then I think of all
the wonderful times
with him that I would
miss if time was
under my control.
So, instead, I will
simply have to remain
patient for the moment
that the two halves
of my heart are reunited and
goodbye becomes goodnight.
