Friday, 22 April 2016

Guest Author & Poet Judy Savoie of Grand Barachois, NB.

This week's post is a First for the Scribbler with a collection of poetry from our talented guest. .


Judy Savoie was born in Fredericton, N.B. and began writing poetry at an early age. This pursuit continued into her early 20’s when she became a technical writer at the University. She co-authored a learning directory after graduating from U.N.B. with a BBA and didn’t return to creative writing again until 2011, a traumatic year of personal illness, divorce and the loss of her stepfather.

Judy was able to turn difficulty into productivity by expressing her emotions through writing. While adapting to these many changes, she took an array of workshops to hone her writing skills. During the summer of 2012 at a cottage in Shediac, she spent an intense week of writing and meditation.

Judy is the author of two books. Her first, titled ‘Serendipity’ was launched in 2015 and is a collection of poetry, prose and song lyrics. It expresses a love of music, photography and nature; all elements that are nurtured by life spent near the beauty of the ocean. 


Her second book project, ‘All About Hats’ was completed in 2016 after much research and collaborates personal experience with a life-long passion for hats. Though lighthearted, it presents interesting stories, poetry and historical facts that demonstrate the influential role that hats have played in affecting all world cultures for countless centuries.

During the time that she undertook a summer hat business, her partner challenged her to write a book about ‘Hats’. After deciding to answer this challenge, she began her research and within four months the book was printed. Both books are available on the internet (lulu.com) or at various venues in Moncton where books are being sold. A third book that blends new poetry, songs and photographs is in the making and will be completed in the very near future.

 Judy is a member of the Writers Federation of New Brunswick, the ‘Shediac Writers Group’ located in Shediac, NB and is a participant of a group in Grand Barachois called ‘Women Who Write’.  

A major inspiration for her songwriting is derived from her partner, Gilbert Babin who is a talented musician/composer. Exposure to music that encompasses Acadian, Folk, Celtic, Jazz and Spanish has helped her to transfer from expressing herself in poetry to crafting lyrics for music composed by her partner; a transition that has been both immediate and seamless. She wrote fifteen songs for this new venue during the first year and another ten have been composed since that initial flurry of writing. Although she had never sung in a serious way, she discovered that she enjoyed doing so when Gilbert recorded her voice. This fulfilling collaboration was extended when they made a c.d. together that was included in Judy’s first book, ‘Serendipity’. Last year Judy held three book launches and accompanied by her partner, sang publicly for the first time.
 
Copyright is held by the author. Used by permission.
 
 
 


Apuka 

Faded photograph.
The young stranger that I see.
He has disappeared,
and only these tattered pictures remain. 
Yet I know this gentle man,
With tanned skin and deep wrinkles on his forehead.
This quiet man who molds who I am today.
Who others portrayed as a villain.           
I see an intensity in his eyes:
another country, another culture.
A familiar place I have not been to. 
I long to know that truth,
the dreams and aspirations of his youth,
before the damage done to him in the war. 
I study the image,
the faded black and white.
He is handsome,
slim like I remember him.
Carefree, quiet, lonesome. 
A bicycle at his side, a teepee-like hut in the foreground,
he blows into his harmonica. 
It's like the wind that woke me this morning,
or the train passing through the backyard bedroom window
of my childhood home. 
I know now.
he is here, somewhere.
 
 ****
 
 
 
 
 
 
Dune Shadows 
What were these grains?
Fossil, animal, human? 
Feel them with us.
Each speck of dust,
Gently caressing us. 
The ghosts of our past
Want us to know
Their history, legends, knowledge. 
They are forever with us
In a different form,
Watching, whispering,
In the depths of our consciousness. 
*** 
I arrive home,
Shake the sand from my garment,
Spray my feet with running water.
The bubbles tickle my toes
And I watch the sand swirl
down the drain. 
A vague feeling overcomes me.
I am clean but saddened at the realization.
I quietly reply goodbye,
To what very well could be part of me.
  ***** 
Little Bird (Fanny Power)
There was a young girl, her name was Fanny,
Her spirit so open, and light and free.
She knew in her heart, she was meant to be,
Patiently waiting his plea. 
Nearby, a boy, who could not see.
He never saw light, but he felt her glee.
He knew in his heart, where he wanted to be.
To live in her eternal beauty. 
Come little bird, come little bird, come little bird,
Come little bird, come little bird.
With you I shall flee,
Teach me to fly,
Soar with me high,
Until we shall die. 
One afternoon she lost her way,
She flew to the end of the earth to play.
She lost all her senses that very day.
Because he was too far away. 
His powerful thoughts were of her each May.
He missed her so deeply, he had to pray.
Her image was in him, was meant to stay.
A feather fell to the ground that day. 
Come little bird, come little bird, come little bird,
Come little bird, come little bird.
With you I shall flee,
Teach me to fly,
Soar with me high,
Until we shall die. 
Many years later, a man on the beach,
He plays his guitar in solace and peace,
His beautiful music, her ears they do reach,
She writes words that her soulmate can teach.
 
 *******


 
 
 
 
 
 
  
Smelt Cabins 
Randomly scattered
Square boxes.
Delicately placed
on a crystal platform.
 
Reflections below
are accentuated
By  the horizontal peach beam above.
Another breathtaking optical illusion
continues.
A gaze shifts to the left,
Two trucks, one cabin and one post,
Pose on the glassy surface.
On the opposite side,
the sun blazes,
As it fires up the sky.
 
The wharf’s silhuoette recalls memories
while it stares in stillness
Of moments below.
The brilliance gradually dims.
Then disappears.
As suddenly as it came.
We are left to marvel in the smoke.
 
  *****
 
Divine Reality
A vision of mind, a mission of heart,
Holds them together, yet tears them apart.
Though oceans away, through veins pump a youth,
Heart beats of legends, lost ashes is truth. 
The future amidst, a flurry of now,
Pasts soon are forgotten, none left to endow.
Will ever it change, fate being misled?
With eternal sun, their souls will be fed. 
When smoke disappears, then what will remain?
Remnants with nothing to prove what was gained.
 
  *****
 
My favourite hat story was at my mother’s private wedding ceremony to her partner of 30 years. My mother was married in September, one month before her partner passed away. It was a day of mixed emotions as everyone knew he had very little time left after a brave fight with cancer. My youngest son, 11 years old at the time, showed up at the small ceremony wearing a vintage top hat, dating back to the late-1800s to early 1900s, which my best friend had loaned him for the day. The strange part was that she had purchased the hat at an estate auction, and it happened to be my new step-dad’s late-father’s hat! My step-dad, his sister and his brother-in-law were delighted. Despite the fact that no one at the wedding was a hat person (except me), the boys and men alike took their turns wearing the top hat. I fervently took photos of their fun as they smiled from ear to ear. It was among one of the highlights of the day, fragile moments almost frozen in time, which somehow eased the sadness of knowing we were to lose someone very special soon.

 

Thank you Judy for being the guest this week on the Scribbler. Visit Judy's Facebook page. here
 
 
Watch next week when the Scribbler hosts John Nicholl of Wales for the 4Q Interview and an excerpt from one of his psychological thriller novels.
 
 
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