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Of the Stroll's Anthology is where you will find me... my poem. 

Rejection 101

The past few weeks have consisted of writing and submitting. Sending my poems off. Branching them out. Letting them be. Waiting is the hardest part.

I have heard back from a couple so far. "Thank you for submitting but unfortunately.............." Standard issue response. *SIGH* So many emotions run through me. One can feel completely deflated. I know not everyone is going to send a green light my way. I have to keep trying. I have to keep pushing and one day one of the many publications out there will publish me. I welcome (not accept) the "rejection" letters because it's all a part of this dance. To fully accept them I would have to give up. I'm not there yet so it gives me something to look forward to. Speaking of which.....

I have another poetry reading in April. Deflated, I think not. I've been filled with hot air. *wink*

Uppsala Girl

Oscar Wilde once said:

"Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life."

this poem I wrote was inspired by a painting that gives some truth to that very quote.

The snow falls down

there sits the Uppsala girl in silence

she barely moves her red lips

Uppsala girls see things not like you and i

girls from Uppsala sometimes are mute and shy

up, up, up with the Uppsala girl

down, down, down is her frown

up, up, up with the Uppsala girl

down, down, down is her frown

Stare into her eyes

you'll wonder what is on her mind

girls from Uppsala have heavy hooded dark eyes

you can understand why

when you see an Uppsala girl

approach her while you can

girls from Uppsala sometimes are mute and shy

up, up, up with the Uppsala girl

down, down, down is her frown

up, up, up with the Uppsala girl

down, down, down is her frown

She is silent

she doesn't speak

© copyright written January 11th 2009 by Jacqueline Williams Bourgeois

publishing is prohibited unless with the authors permission.

It's just rock and roll.

Back in August I went to see Oasis. It was my first time seeing them live and the first time they had played here. The concert was sold out. The crowd remained on their feet the whole night. Sang all the words to their songs... except new songs from the new album. Those songs had fans falling in and out of tune. It was one of the best rock shows I have been to. It even left arrogant Liam Gallagher speechless. He so openly admitted to the crowd of thousands and said that the boys would definitely return to this fair city. Honestly, I think Noel Gallagher is the master mind behind this band. That aside they appeared to be more solid than ever before. The pure essence of their rock and roll sound. The Gallagher brothers did not disappoint. The above clip takes us back to that night and one of my favourite Oasis songs.

I was searching through the writing vault so to speak and found this piece. I wrote this awhile ago.

the isolation

the surroundings

repeating like a living heart beat at night fall.

she stood in her own silence. she walked over towards the window. there is the breath taking view. the one in all it's glory, so perfect. the one that keeps her here. the lake deeper than her eyes but cold like her body. just along the water's edge a boat gently sways back and forth in the crisp wind. the boat will take her. the night air is becoming thick around the stately house.

moving across the room, through the open door down towards the corridor to the staircase. silently she stood at the top of the staircase. admiring but waiting. waiting for the maid. anticipating someone, anyone. eventually no one. they have all left for the night. she doesn't need reassurances as she travels down the staircase towards the front door. the darkness brushes along side her. the door gently inching it's way open. the crisp wind reaches the floor. swirling and moving right through her. she is staring out to the lake. her skin pale as fog. her eyes glazed over. the passion and determination washed across her face. she moves lightly making her way to the boat. trying to breath. she lowers herself down to the night's vessel. there are no words. the boat is gently pushed by the water and by the wind. silence is everywhere and the darkness swallowing her. time passes. slowly from the mountainous depths the boat pushes it's way back, empty. alone. the boat wades back to the water's edge. waiting. waiting patiently as it always does. the air is thick and fell all around the stately house. where it will always be, where she will always be.

© copyright written on April 15th 1991 by JAQ.

protected by copyright laws. publishing prohibited unless by the author's permission.