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.
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.
Evocative poetry, Allan. Thanks for the introduction to Judy Savoie.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome and thanks for leaving a comment JP. I always enjoy Judy's poems.
ReplyDelete