Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Jym S. Mitchell Self-published Author
"Does the weeping mother with a folded flag in her arms love and miss her child more,
than the young mother with a crack pipe in her pocket whose child has been taken away?"
I've always written. When I was growing up, my brothers and sisters where all a lot older
than me. So I ended up playing with my nieces, and they were more my age. And we would make
up stories and we would have pretend soap opera's and pretend movies. With these fully
evolved characters.
As long as I can remember, story telling has been a part of our family . Sitting around
campfires, and talking about the old days with my aunts and uncles from the greatest
generation were part of the world war two thing. And I just love story telling.
This story sort of came to my brain about a young man in a concentration camp during
WWII. It's called "Intensity".
"Ah again they wake me. The lice on my body wake me.
I've some how adapted to never being warm and always being hungry.
But my constantly crawling flesh, sometimes strangely a blessing
Because it's always the same in my dream"
And I think the things I write are not conventional poetry, in the literal since. I think they
are little stories. Their little character studies.
"One might say the addict created her circumstance, but we all know about hindsight, and sometimes
things escape our control, when we really mint know harm."
People ask me about inspiration, I don't know. Things just come. I've never been able to
sit down and write a poem it has to come to me or it doesn't.
"Listening to Sarah Palin The Princess of ignorance and hate
conjures visions of a place without compassion for which it's just too late
IS THIS OUR AMERICA
Young people taking their own lives because their told that different is wrong
convinced their unique gifts and talents have been useless all along
hopeless in OUR AMERICA
Untold millions paid weekly to movie stars and to athletes
our country shrugs its shoulders at kids with nothing to eat
hungry in OUR AMERICA
Veterans with shattered bodies and minds sacrificed for our freedoms and rights
don't receive the respect they've earned and sleep on a park bench at night
homeless in OUR AMERICA
To a low paying job a tired mother walks
providing children a home and a bed talking to God and hoping for the future
while bullets wiz past her head praying in OUR AMERICA
She managed bills and medication both this month
yet sits with a tear in her eye she's 85 yet her family won't visit
though most of them live near by lonely in OUR AMERICA
His drunken mommy knocked to the floor then daddy kicks her too
he thinks this is how real men behave so someday that's what he'll do
a school night in OUR AMERICA
What may future generation deal with in the beautiful land of the free
their only to review some of our mistakes to know how things shouldn't be
here in OUR AMERICA"
by Jym S. Mitchell
There just every topic you could imagine in my book, almost. Everything but grave robbing.
(laugh) There were poems I had written years ago , some of them were a little too much
to be in the first book. But I retained those. Someday maybe I will share those with people
but they may be perceived as a little bit offensive or racy right now.
Of course I write about family a lot. But a lot of things are just made up. But they
come to me in fully formed characters.
"She always grew flowers flowers in abundance
Lilly, Hydrangea, Irish, Morning Glory, Tulips, Violets, Daffodils
which she unfailingly referred to as Easter Flowers.
Flowering bushes, Forsythia, Snow Ball hearts bursting with love
but primarily and most diligently she planted roses"
Like I say I just like to tell stories, I like to entertain. I like for people to read
things. And think about things they never thought of before.