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Julie Heckman Poem
We are a jelly jar full of pencils new in town.
From Europe we came heads up, points down.
No fancy names, we shared the same woodshed
and thanked Welches jelly for this practical bed.
Lead was a number four and fatter than all.
Trim number twos, we all awaiting the call.
Writing and erasing, sometimes we paid
For frivolous writing the humans had made.
The sharpest point in the jar was funny ole Lead.
His weftage was smooth but his family all now dead.
Lead became smaller and smaller and in time
was nothing but a stub, when #2s were in their prime
It's unfair to be held back once you know our point of view
to trash cans we go for no reason with no expectation to sue.
Till one day we snap and die from being tossed
A point without a pencil, life is colder than frost
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2011
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Julie Heckman Poem
My grandfather on my father’s side, was a pecker-toothed sidle who raped his
daughter when she was just ten. He threw down vodka from an eternal well and took my father out to buy prostitutes when he was just fifteen... It was here that my father first learned the true value of a woman. Mercifully, a permanent steel brace got loose at the Pennsylvania steel mill where he worked and crushed Grandfather into a pool of blood and urine.
My father was a dried seed rattling in an empty gourd… he had grown up
hardened with leather-stiff roots exposed too long in the sun. My mother knew
that he wanted to rape me, so I kept guard with knives and ran away whenever I could. I went to bed fantasizing how to sneak into his bedroom and kill him with
the kitchen carving knife.
My older brother hadn’t adjusted well to the chaos either, so he put all his expectations and dreams into a matchbook and burned down three houses in the neighborhood. He secretly, robbed his friends of their valuable coin collections. He grew weary and confessed and was taken to a local Mental Hospital for evaluation. At fourteen, I needed a good stiff drink! I was transferred to two different foster care homes and grew up like a weed.
My mother Dolly was an auburn haired porcelain bisque, matt finished doll from a
discriminating collections of dolls... her father's dolls. She was not a witty woman
but silent, afraid and alone. She gave birth to three children who grew up like
wild dogs while Dolly made Betty Crocker weekends and otherwise TV dinners
until she grew tired... very tired.
One day the brothers were playing with Dolly tossing her back and forth…
like a ball, one to another... until we dropped her. Fragile, she shattered into pieces
on the gray cement patio. My father came out determined to put the pieces back
together but clumsily, he repeatedly stepped on Dolly crushing the refined
fragments into powdered dust.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2011
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Julie Heckman Poem
Crimson lips, lovers awaken with a kiss
Creamy white skinned Goddesses resting
In a time where Socrates lusted after Sappho's
Poetry and art.
The Grecian people worshiped her with
her beauty and exquisite prose. On the wings
of her art she played enchanting music arranged
for immortality.
Golden chariots in fields of apples bold,
yet, solitary like one fallen from the tree,
Sappho wrote her memoirs and music
while exiled, her death unspoken.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2011
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Julie Heckman Poem
Constellations of values and ethics
like dancing stars in onyx nights.
Majestic fields of ideals stay grounded
in what only seems right. Keenly, I search
philosopher’s heels to grasp theoretical
notions, held together by gravity’s scales
as comets of light circle in tails
and teach me in a dream.
What is the uniqueness of your poetry?
Someone once said to me that “poetry can’t include abstract language.”
Well, that really got me going! As a lover of language and theory I just couldn’t let this one pass. The uniqueness of my poem is that I use abstract language with planetary imagery to lightly illustrate two mega-abstract ideas, ethics & philosophy. The end culminates that all knowledge is refutable (i.e. “and teach me in a dream”).
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2011
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Julie Heckman Poem
Australia down under
Australia under prayers
Prayers that fly
Prayers that bother
Bother your heart
Bother in swells
Swells into far lands
Swells into rocks
Rocks of honor
Rocks of pain
Pain of forests
Pain of tides
Tides circling the cold
Tides breaking waves
Waves of emptiness
Waves of glory
Glory in kindness
Glory in honor
Honor we meet
Honor we see
See the emptiness
See the smiles
Smiles without riches
Smiles of a trial
Trials that excite you
Trials that see through you
You are endless
You are poor
Poor in richness
Poor in pocket
Pockets of koalas
Pockets of kangaroos safely
Safely finding nests
Safely from the flight
Flight in forest
Flight in your time
Time past darkness
Time from the heart
Heart opens your senses
Heart opening to God
God sounding the music
God holding our hands
Hands touching our brothers
Hands binding the light
Light as your spirit
Light as your love
Love that dawns
Love that breathes
breathe the waves
breathing the dawn
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2015
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Julie Heckman Poem
Lies glamour gossip and Earl Grey tea
turbulent tales boiling in China cups
elegant sacraments of blue-haired ladies
pinkies stuck up in the air, hiding their
anger or boredom or feeling their own
despair.
Crimson glass roses feathers and jewels
crowned with wide-brim hats, trimmed
gloves, lace fans and perhaps some pearls
are appealing to these extravagant, fast
and proper old girls
The guild does not approve of
cola,
tortilla chips or
piercings of the tongue.
Invitation is by Tea Bag only. merely
a device to project the status of a
proper and affluent wife.
Shaved legs polished nails and GiGi’s
Brazilian waxing will enliven you as a
part of the crowd, but may be a little
bit taxing.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2013
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Julie Heckman Poem
What you gave was the humility
lost now in the starry universe,
dark and gray about to rain.
A circle of stars shuttering in place,
shifting from season to space,
dancing in darkness.
What you gave were these arms to
reach out and hold the world close
in an ever changing way, buoyant
and feisty, or ready to give up.
What you gave will always be alive
breathing into the surfaces of
the universe.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2014
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Julie Heckman Poem
The sea unleashes its children green
seeking a sandy shielded defense and
swimming wings for legs, scraping
their way from seaweed waters at low
tide the sea awakens...
Those crusted, frothy shells demand
their way toward the grasses as destiny
calls. Barely an eye to see, eroded like a
silver spoon, they plummet forward
jerky as a scared dog, tumbling at each
step... heavy trucks bumping over a
rocky road. As the gods would have
it they succeed to lay their eggs
on shore.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2014
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Julie Heckman Poem
It was my birthday and my partner wanted to take a trip to Mazatlan,
on the coast of Mexico. We decided to go deep-sea fishing so the next day.
We got up very early and headed to the beach. We were in a small
boat with two other men. We started out and the driver had hooked up
our lines with leuers as big as my forearm. Well within one hour we hooked
an eleven foot sail-fish, the beautiful beast took about 45 minutes to capture
after putting up an admirable fight we landed him and put him inside the boat.
As he died I remember his beautiful blue color turned to black. It wasn't
pleasant, I felt a tinge of guilt because they were not eatable but only stuffed
for show. I could just imagine how ridiculous this giant fish would look on my
small apartment wall,
We continued on our excursion and not even an hour later we hook another fish...
who ever thought it would be the fisherman's dream...a blue marlin. This required
some strength so the five of us took turns reeling her in. The marlin would jump
out of the water and the captain would speed up the boat in her direction allowing
us to reel the line in faster. Well we played this sordid game for five hours until the
marlin died of exhaustion. Now dead it floated to the top of the water, black instead
of blue from the loss of oxygen. We tied him to the side of the boat...he was over
eleven feet and weighed 750 lbs. The captain hung out the blue flag and we drove
back to shore to be welcomed by many from the small town. We were instant
celebrities but my guilt was getting the best of me. How or why did I just kill
these two beautiful animals, just for sport! ...barbaric.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2014
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Julie Heckman Poem
The strong, potent garlic,
browning in olive oil, fragrance
throughout the house. Pasta
soon would follow. As we entered
the dining room we could smell
the sweet fragrance of fresh basil,
an added invitation to sheer
delight.
Freshly chopped tomato and
scallions fried, gave color to the
dish and last, the gray, delicate
shrimp slowly turning pink.
All then poured over a bed of
penne pasta. Laughter filled the
room like a song. You could feel
the simple elegance of dining
with friends. A bottle of aged
Cabernet was poured... let the
feast begin.
October 1st, 2015
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2015
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