During my laureateship I have been invited to speak with students from across the country. My most rewarding work. The students were always receptive. Some were from troubled homes. I could relate. As a troubled child myself I knew that it was my art that saved me. From the book "it's howlin' time!" by PJ Yukon.
growing up in a foster home
growing up in a foster home
in a dysfunctional atmosphere
you learn not to say
what you think
not to express your feelings
you keep your thoughts
to yourself
my tremendous urge to be creative
is a survival technique
i learned early in life
you can go anywhere you want
in your mind
say what you want to say
be who you want to be
indulging in artistic expression
and sharing it with others
is my way of connecting
with the world around me
it is for me
the heartbeat
the very breath of life
©PJ Yukon
Poet Laureate of the Yukon 2024
#yukon #poet #laureate #storyteller #canada #poetrycommunity
How many women were triggered by the recent P Diddy Coombs abuse situation? The trauma delivered by a violent ex lives on long after the incident. If you reported them it got worse. How many were stifled by fear? How many like me were stuck with the last name of an abuser?
I was forced to marry an adult when I was 16. He chased me down a hallway with a butcher knife. A friend grabbed me and pulled me inside. I have quite a few scars from abuse. The body remembers. The soul dies.
There was no one to help and nowhere to go. If I tried to call the police I was beaten. If the police actually arrived they just laughed it off as 'little woman having troubles'.
I was denied a childhood. I had no voice. I carried anger around that had nowhere to go. With time I slowly learned to believe in myself and began to lose the anger. I focussed on just being the best me that I could be with an aim to being there for others when they needed someone to speak for them.
It's the thing no one wants to talk about. They rule by fear and our silence enables them. Nicole Brown Simpson tried to speak out but it wasn’t enough to save her. Quite simply we need to speak louder.
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July 26 2014: With fall coming time to dust off the snowplow.
Read more: https://www.yukonpoetlaureate.com/photos-2014/
I took this picture on July 26th 2014 at Fox Lake Yukon.
June 19th 2014 at at the Yukon Art Centre an exhibition of my friend Yukon artist Jim Robb's life works
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Read more: https://www.yukonpoetlaureate.com/photos-2014/
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"welcome to my fantis-phere"
the story of my life today
is written on the wind
it howls down the mountainside
it echoes like a sin
it dances with your memory
it hides inside your smile
it quivers like a heartbeat
come dance with me awhile
welcome to my fantis-phere
shake hands with all my grief
we’ll speak the foreign languages
that have no real belief
it’s all just words that never end
and dreams that never age
like schools of fish that flash and fade
and swim upon a page
you can’t deny your destiny
your edge is melting down
your bones are bent on ecstasy
but all you have is now
the flames of hell reach out to you
the snakes are on their way
the wind calls foul and strikes you out
there’s nothing left to say
you hunger for that mother-beat
that spoke to you in tongues
and wrapped you in its sanctity
and nearly struck you dumb
the hounds of hell are closing in
they’re nipping at your heel
to run. to hide. you can’t decide
there’s nothing left to feel
welcome to my fantis-phere
shake hands with all my grief
we’ll speak the foreign languages
that have no real belief
it’s all just words that never end
and dreams that never age
like schools of fish that flash and fade
and swim upon a page
©PJ Yukon 2013
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In the 1970’s I was a young single parent living in a cabin in the Yukon wilderness. In those days there were many colourful Yukon characters about, one such being my old friend ‘O. D.’ Don Brown. With his shaggy grey beard and tattered old Stetson he was the quintessential image of a Yukon Sourdough. O.D was laid to rest in 1985. Sometimes I drop by to visit him.
"hey o.d. "
hey o.d.
just last week i saw you
hangin’ out on main street
in your tattered old stetson
with the word YUKON
blazed across the hatband
so busy tellin’ lies to the
salesgirl in Mac’s
you didn’t even see me
wasn’t it just yesterday
we were neighbors
livin’ on bannock and moose meat
out there in the bush
-you mindin’ the babies
so i could hitch a ride
down to the laundrymat?
well those babies they’re pretty much
all grown up now
but i still remember you
out there in your
old red mackinaw
standin’ by the woodpile
thrashin’ away like a
windmill in a snowstorm
you swung a mean axe, man
chopping wood for you
was an art form
then on cheque days
you’d barge in the door
a bottle-a hootch in one hand
a barrel-a chicken in the other
hollerin’
“where’s the party?”
“where’s the party?”
i’d find you in the morning
on the floor beside the woodstove
but then a cigarette
an’ a cup of coffee later
you were playin’ your harmonica
dancing with the dog
and laughing about the night
you broke the door down
with a frozen hind of moose
because you couldn’t find
your key
last friday at the T&M
i said “how ya doin’ o.d.?”
you just grinned
winked at me
and said
“i’m on my way out, y’know.”
“dyin’ eh?”
“i’m sorry,” i said
and meant it
sandy-
she’s mad as hell
said you’d wanted your ashes
spread over Grey Mountain
i said “well at least he’ll be
on the mountain”
she just walked away
never did have a
sense of humour
well i gotta go
it’s gettin’ late
you know you can
almost see the river from here?
it’s really not so bad
for a cemetery
hey o.d. you never know
place might kinda
grow on ya
time to hit the road
i’ll come by and see you again
sometime
maybe bring the dog
i’ll say hi to the kids for ya
and hey you old
streak a’ misery
try an’ stay outta trouble
willya?
©PJ Yukon 1985
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"faith is"
faith is a journey
to a place you’ve never been
without a name
faith is knowing
that the sun is always there
even when you can’t see it
faith is believing
god gave us the rainbow
because there is always hope
faith is hearing
the voice of an angel
in the prayer of a child
faith is pausing
to admire the beauty of a butterfly
knowing god made it
faith is waiting
for the salmon to return
because you know they will
faith is perseverance
pursuing your dream
when the world says you can’t
faith is sometimes accepting
that you must walk through the fire
before you can walk into the light
faith is an embrace
that comforts you
in the howl of a storm
faith is a quiet voice
that tells you
you are worth loving
faith is discovering
that there really are
no coincidences
faith is an unlocked door
you choose to walk through
or not
©PJ Yukon 2010