Poetry By Jewel Kilcher
"Long before I wrote my first song, words formed as poems in my journals; and poetry drives my song
writing today. I've learned that not all poetry lends itself to music-some thoughts need to be sung only against the silence.
Poetry is the most honest and immediate art form that I have found, it is raw and unfiltered. It is a vital, creative expression
and deserves to find greater forums, to be more highly valued, understood, and utilized in our culture and in our lives.
There is such wonderful poetry in the world that wants to be given voice.. My hope is to help inspire an appreciation and expression
of that voice." - JEWEL
FAITH POEM
I don't know how to do anything/ I am trying to move mountains with words/
But I am not an ant/ I scribble/ I drool/ I move like a worm/ whose world/
(words)/ encompassed a mile/ How do I rise above?/ Where will this warm/
find wings?/ I look in the mirror/ and I see filth/ Who is that?/ Where did
the Angel go?/ Why is there dirt?/ staring back at me?/ Why is the soil of/
incompetence beneath my nails?/ Why does doubt paint/ blue rings/ beneath my
eyes and/ stain my skin?/ Why does my spine assume failure/ Why do my lips/
flirt with the sky;/ why do I try to lasso/ Beauty with such a / pitful rope?/
Where is the hair of Rapunzel?/ or Samson?/ Where is my sling/ Where is my
stone,/ My gun?/ Where is the weapon with which/ I may fight this apathy/
that feels like sleep/ in my limbs/ that loosens my brother's smile/
that kills my neighbor's daughter/ This pen is scrawny and hardly/ seems
able to ink out/ or erase this plague that infests my/ Generation/ This Giant,
This Ogre/ The Beast, This Death/ that assumes a million faces,/that borrows
my own.
Upon Moving Into My Van
Joy, Pure, Joy, I am
What I always wanted
to grow up and be
Things are becoming
more of a dream with
each waking day-
The heavy brows of Daily Life
are becoming encrusted
with glitter and the shaking finger
of consequence is
beginning to giggle
Grumpy old men
have wings
Bums sport halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breath
as I remember the
incredible lightness
of living
I Look At Young Girls Now
I look at young girls now
in their tight crushed velour
skin tight blue sky
hip huggers with the baby doll
tank tops
and I think
I've been there.
God have I been there.
Sixteen years old and
wrestling with an overwhelming
newfound sexuality
Parading it in all its
raw and awkward charm.
I had a pair of vintage
burgundy velvet short-
shorts that laced up
the sides
from the 1920's
and I wore them with a tight leotard
and a plastic faux pearl
choker
showing off all of my lanky
leggy blossoming
young on the verge
of womanhood for all the
free world to see
with no idea how to keep
a secret, especially my own.
Email: dionchante@yahoo.com
