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In the dead of night
     neither moon nor stars in sight
     only the winds' sigh
On a cold Thursday morning,
I sit outside, bundled up
in layers upon layers,
battling the weather.

Forty degrees is a heavy burden
for a man raised under an island sun,
beside hibiscus and ixoras.

It eats at my hands,
and feathers my nose.

What a blessing
to feel,
to be alive.

Oh, but what a curse.
Deep
    liquid rock seethes
          pressure builds
                molten fingers *****
                        probing
                              searching
                        pressed down
                        resisted
                        suppressed.

                        Incandescent lava
                            finds weak points
                                  pushes
                                      forces
                                      the mountain bends, buckles, swells
                                      strains, contains
                                      furious fire

                                      until

                                at supersonic speed
                      pyroclastic ash
                  rushes
            burns
        clears.

Quiet
    death has passed                                                          
          black cinder slopes
              and
                  a flower
                      blooms.
I wrote this when I was depressed and it is a metaphor for the stress that lead to my depression and my recovery.
~
November 2024
HP Poet: Jill
Age: 47
Country: Australia


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Jill. Please tell us about your background?

Jill: "Mum and dad immigrated from Northern Ireland to Australia before having my brother and me. I’m very grateful to be living in South Australia on Kaurna Land. My parents were teachers, and they seeded and encouraged my love for education. At university I studied psychology, philosophy, and French. Then I went on to a PhD in psychology, and later, a master’s degree in statistics. In my day job, I’m a psychology professor, which includes lots of scientific writing. Outside work, I love playing music and singing with my partner and our friends and spending time with my precious son and our fluffy dog."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Jill: "I’ve been writing poetry on and off for years. The times in my life where I have been most active coincided with having friends who were interested in reading and writing together. In high school, my dear friend and I would watch British comedy shows and write silly, surreal, or nonsense poetry. Our aim was to make each other laugh as much as possible. More currently, I’ve been writing songs with friends, including lyrics, which often start as poems. I joined HP only recently, in August 2024. This community is so generous and supportive, with such a variety of style, depth, and imagination for inspiration and motivation."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Jill: "In many of my poems, I’m trying to make sense of big feelings. I often write about my experiences caring for my parents, who both had close and complex relationships with alcohol. That is a never-ending well for poetry, ranging from trying to process some of the intense events, to exploring what it has meant for my self-concept and mental health. Having said that, sometimes I’m just trying to write something that sounds pretty or might cause someone to smile. I love challenges like BLT's Webster’s Word of the Day – seeing what comes from a single word across different poets."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Jill: "In my more personal poems I am documenting, reconsidering, and re-investigating my memories, and organising them in nice, even lines, which feels cathartic. In poems, I find that the small or large amount of distance that you can create through imagery, rhyme, or humor makes it possible to explore difficult or even traumatic experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Writing poetry is a transformative exercise, but there is something greater still about sharing poetry with others."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Jill: "One of my favorite poets is WB Yeats, I particularly love 'The Stolen Child'. Other all-time favorites include Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, AA Milne, Lewis Caroll, Edward Lear, Spike Milligan, Rik Mayall, and Crawford Howard. I also love lyricists like Joni Mitchell, Michael Stipe, Stephen Schwartz, Tim Minchin, Wayne Coyne, Stephen Malkmus, and Rufus Wainright. I have so many favorites on HP – too many to list!"


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Jill: "I love music. Since childhood, I’ve played violin in classical orchestras and musical theatre pits. I adore Irish folk music. For me, at the moment, music mostly happens with friends, with my electric violin, in pub bands of different kinds. Most of the poems I’ve written previously have only been publicly shared, adapted as song lyrics, with some of these bands. I also love all things science-fiction."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much Jill, we truly appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! We are thrilled to include you in this ongoing series!”

Jill: "Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to be a part of this, Carlo! It is such a privilege."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Jill a little bit better. I most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #22 in December!

~
In a lonely darkened pit I wander, some might call it hell but it's far too familiar with every texture, every smell.
It's been with me for so long I choose to call it home this cold and lonely labyrinth of desperation that I roam.

Searching in vain for my true love fair

Crying out her name hoping she'll be there, but only the wind will answer echoing her name, taunting me and haunting me is it all just a dream, an opioid delusion as a field of poppies I cross.

Breathing in a fragrance nearly as intoxicating as her, down the rabbit hole I tumble everything becomes a blur.

Alice sweet Alice won't you please come home. This is no wonderland since you've gone.
As the world moves toward a singular race this does not bother me.
It does not affect my Heritage, History, or Ethnicity.
I am not white, yellow, or red.
I am not black or brown.
I am an amalgam, a melting *** in a world swirling round.
No man is a color.
No color a race.
Someday you'll have to check my DNA to decide if you hate my face.
So I'm a little darker than you  maybe I have a good tan, if I stay out of the sun and fade a bit will that make us friends again?
Games of race are senseless, I know what race I am.
I'm a member of the human race, just like every man.
What can you do in a second?

I don't know, give me a minute.

Maybe an hour, just an hour to think about it.

Is that wrong to dedicate an hour to the thoughts of a second?

How many decisions made in seconds affect us for years?

Not hours, not days, but years.

To be clear, not hours, not days but years.

So go ahead take a second, take all the time you need.

I'll wait.
Tangerine and honey drip in equal measure on the finely woven silk that lightly covers you.

As my tongue takes its pleasure I can barely discern where the silk stops and your skin begins.

The sound of your sighs and a rise in temperature tells me I've found a sweet spot.

A soft spot, goose flesh and shivers, not just yours but my own.

Had I known such joys could awaken, I would have mistakenly spilled the honey long ago.
A sign of the times,
Prince has left us and the world's gone blind.

This post-covid apocalypse is so
Sublime.

So many factions, only two teams remain,
Are you Red team or Blue?

I don't need your name.

Kiss me, **** me, it's all the same.

If my facts aren't your facts you must be to blame.

If my lies aren't your lies  you must be to blame.

Somebody please tell me why the world's gone insane.

I just want to shut out all the noise, and play Purple Rain.

I only wanna see you laughing in the Purple Rain.

Purple Rain

Purple Rain...
Hope everyone is singing along, it's impossible to feel bad while playing this song.  I hope PRINCE is resting in peace right now.
Rains fall on panes of blue

walking lonely streets, memories of you

Down pours disguise watering eyes

there are no tears under crying skies

Opening heavens, rain falls like hell.

Calm washes over this fool

and I smile

for there are no tears in the rain
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