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Jacob Traver
MD    Class of 2018 - SMCM, Avid reader, constant actor, conversationalist, poet, author, musician... Me. -Love Life, Love People-
James Travers Blanchard
Lafayette, Louisiana    I am a writer, spoken-word artist, poet, bartender residing in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Poems

ungdomspoet Nov 2015
pigen der tavst traver gennem
skoven der efterhånden er helt nøgen
og iagttager de gyldne blade der er faldet
med hendes rødvinsfarvede læber suger ***
grådigt på den sidste cigaret *** kunne finde i lommen
og vinden hiver i hendes lange lysebrune bølgede hår
men *** er ligeglad, for *** kan kun tænke på at
en dag, snart, vil *** forsvinde fra dette sted
i ørene danser der stille toner komponeret af engle
og sunget af Bon Iver
pigens øjne er store og runde, og vidt åbne
for *** prøver at sluge så meget af denne følelse
før det er for sent igen og lyset der titter igennem de spinkle
grene atter er forsvundet og erstattet af en grå tåge
hendes tanker står så stille, samtidig med at stemmerne
aldrig nogensinde stopper med at hviske til hende
de hvisker, at en pige som hende aldrig vil blive lykkelig
pigen griner da lyden af ordene giver genlyd i hendes
hovede, *** havde nemlig for længst affundet sig med at
lykken er den nøgne skov, gyldne blade, rødvinslæber,
cigaretter, de sidste solstråler og Bon Iver
Having answered my ad for a handyman
A knock on my door offered the first applicant.
I am apt to hire anyone at first sight and
Never more so than when a poor supplicant
Is as myself but I know my own weakness -
Though that knowledge usually proves most worthless.

I let the man in and his look alone
Already predisposed the situation to be in his favor.
So, as usual, I hired him first and then began
To inquire of him what was his traver.
The man looked up to me and replied ”say what?”
I stated, “ Your sir name?”

He looked puzzled and stated, “Sir name, what’s that?”
“Well it’s your last name, sir.”
His voice quivered as he spit it out, “Nazareth.”
I kinda chuckled, “Say What?, Your first name – is it Jesus?”
He nodded his head as I half jokingly asked “Is that Jewish?”
“When can you start,” I asked handing him a wrench.

I explained that I had several tasks that needed completing
Knowing full well that a Hebrew can do anything.
We started with an outside light fixture which needed reseating.
I showed him where the ladder was and in a flash as he was riding
It up when 'Yahweh' started a low but cheery tune whistling
As he glided up the rickety thing.

I swear to my soul had the man been able to do nothing but whistle
His delightful tune - I would have not been better served.
Having finished that task I took him to the next which required a chisel
To skim off a bit of the top side of the front door which had become curved
By its constant dragging upon the frame.
He whittled it out whistling all the while just the same.

And from one task to the other we went fixing, repairing
And finishing them all until I heard his stomach growl.
I looked at my watch – it was after 12 – swearing
To 'Yahweh' that I had no idea that I had made such a foul
Keeping him from eating his lunch.
He not having one was my hunch.

“No worries,” I said as I led him inside.
We feasted on onions and tomatoes with all the trimmings.
When finished I made us a *** of coffee with a piece of fried pie.
As we ate I asked him what that tune was he was whistling.
He said he didn’t know the title but that he knew only the words.
He started whistling each line of the song like a songbird.

Between each whistled line he’d stop and speak the words.
The words went something like this.
“The lips of wisdom should always be closed
Until the ears of understanding are fully exposed.”
I had never heard this song before but from somewhere -
And I know not where – I seemed to be aware -

He continued whistling a line and then saying the words:

The mark of an intelligent mind
Has the ability to entertain
A controversial thought without
Necessarily adopting it.
Then he just whistled on as he got up from the table.


I paid him and he set out the door back to his life
As gallantly as any man ever does.
He served me a day that ended up being my whole life.
At the end of which I whistle as I go
About my day satisfying both my physical
And spiritual need to play and to know.

“The lips of wisdom should always be closed
Until the ears of understanding are fully exposed.”
I like to take real life experiences and put them to paper so that I can remember them. I think any person who likes to write knows what I mean. This piece is in part, a story but the roles have been switched. I'll let you figure out which role I played.