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"If I could tell the world just one thing / It would be that we're all OK "
- 'Hands'

Here's just a few of my favourite poems by Miss Jewel Kilcher :) I've gotten them mostly from her poetry book "A Night Without Amour" (distributed by Harper Collins Publishers). There's also a few taken from the little booklet in her "Pieces of You" cd.

I'm not normally a big fan of poetry (i always struggled through that part of the English course miserably in school LOL). But i love Jewel's work. It's beautiful in it's simplicity. And speaks to you and inspires without the use of fancy metaphors and underlying themes. As i said there's just a few of my favourites here - if i copied out the whole book - not only would it take me forever! it would be unfair to Jewel and her management. If you like what you read here - please, go out and buy the book - you won't be disappointed. :)


So Just Kiss Me
Flight #364
Upon Moving Into My Van
Faith Poem
We Talk
Christmas in Hawaii
Bukowski's Widow
Taking the Slave
I Am Not From Here
I Guess What I Wanted Was
Someone to Know Me

"So Just Kiss Me"

So just kiss me and let my hair
messy itself in your fingers

tell me nothing needs to be done-
no clocks need winding

There is no bell without a voice
needing to borrow my own

instead, let me steady myself
in the arms

of a man who won't ask me to be
what he needs, but lets me exist

as I am

a blonde flame
a hurricane

wrapped up
in a tiny body

that will come to his arms
like the safest harbor

for mending


"Flight #364"

i miss you
my teeth ache
my bones are confused
  they'd grown so close
my flesh cries like children
i speak to them in hush
it's not fair they say
  bring him back!
  beg him stay!
it's not up to me. i try to explain
but mind can't make heart understand

  it does not whimper

its one lashed eye keeps blinking
it insists simply with quiet disbelief



I go back today
back to where I must move from
my toothbrush no longer welcome

my clothing canker sores

my altar a wound
whose bleeding can only stop
when there's nothing left
to remind him of me

(I don't wanna go)


"Upon Moving Into My Van"

Joy, Pure Joy, I am
What I always wanted
to grow up and be
Things are becoming
more of a dream with
each waking day-
The heavy brows of Daily Life
are becoming encrusted
with glitter and the shaking finger
of consequence is
beginning to giggle
Grumpy old men
have wings
Burns sport Halos
and everyday dullness
has begun to breathe
as I remember the
incredible lightness
of living


"Faith Poem"

I don't know how to do anything
I am trying to move mountains with words
But I am an ant
I scribble
I drool
I move like a worm
whose world
encompassed a mile

How do I rise above?
Where will this worm
find wings?
I look in the mirror
and I see filth
Who is that?
Where did The Angel go?
Why is there dirt
staring back at me?

Why is the soil of
incompetence beneath my nails
Why does doubt paint
blue rings
beneath my eyes and
stain my skin
Why does my spine assume failure
Why do my lips
flirt with they sky;
why do I try to lasso
Beauty with such a
pitiful rope?
Where is the hair of Rapunzel
or Samson?

Where is my sling
Where is my stone,
My gun?
Where is the weapon with which
I may fight this apathy
that feels like sleep
in my limbs
that loosens my brother's smile
That kills my neighbor's daughter

This pen is scrawny and hardly
seems able to ink out
or erase this plague that
infests my
This Giant, This Ogre
This Beast, This Death
that assumes a million faces,
that borrows my own.


"We Talk"

We talk
about nothing
about movies
  we stick to
surface streets
  and find no
meaning in cafe windows
no substance in
  hotel rooms
I used to unwrap you!
tender layers unfolding
like eager gold
  but now
we are cool
and recount
our daily bores
  as though
the sum of our
  while softer
things shrivel
  and dry roots
go unfed
by the phone line
and all
  that is
  not said


"Christmas in Hawaii"

The sky pierces me
with its turquoise embrace.
The scent of lemons
and suntan oil find
their way to me
by the pool:
No one is here.
I walked the beaches alone
and drink silly concoctions
with little paper umbrellas.
In my room, my guitar
is calling to me.
I will go to it soon
and write songs
for love lost
and for love yet to come.
Merry Christmas, baby,


"Bukowski's Widow"

My prince has slipped!
and his face has turned
  to shadow

his tongue no longer strong
but gray (how sad!)
it used to be so full
  of spit and roses

My prince the stars have
fallen from your crown
and I can not fathom
their fading-
some things should be forever!

You've taken your coal
and your seaward gaze-

You've taken your will
and your weakness and left

me with nothing but
words to keep me warm
  But I don't want them!
  Take them back!

I want Paris
I want you drunk on wine
I want to walk with you
  and hold you up
and giggle and kiss

God how I miss
your smile and thick skin

At night
  (Do you remember?)
  How I'd worry
and you'd press me tight
against you. Extinguishing
  the red flame
of my head against
your shoulder
  Smooth as chalk dust you'd laugh
in the face of
death and uncertainty
  Do you remember?
You'd say time knew nothing
well now you're gone
  and time is all I have left


"Taking the Slave"


her eyes
without hope of
understanding them


her mouth
that you may
its strange tongue


in her brown skin
it reminds you
of Mother


her mind
because it is not your own
but so sweet
so familiar

like coming home

to a native land
your pale and inbred hands
can only faintly fathom


"I Am Not From Here"

I am not from here,
my hairs smells of the wind
and is full of constellations
and I move about this world
with a healthy disbelief
and approach my days and my work
with vaporous consequence
  a touch that is translucent
  but can violate stone.



is a puzzle
of stars
that breathes
like water
and chews
like stone

is a reminder
of how far
is from

is a bird
that believes itself
into extinction

the honest recognition
of a false truth

seeing who you really are
at your highest
is who you will become

the refinement of a
Soul through time


"I Guess What I Wanted Was"

I guess what I
wanted was
to hear

you'd stay with me always.

I guess what I
wanted was
to see

those hands vowing
never to leave my own.

I guess what
I wanted was
to know

I am not loving in vain.



you don't call
I check again
I become uneasy-
  is this a frame?
Suddenly i'm not so sure
I check my sources
each conversation becomes a crumb
how easily I'm led
how stupid I've been
to believe
you could be
loving me
you who can not be seduced
by anything other than
the temperance
of need
  each one facilitating the next
and suddenly I see my place
the phone rings
you say hello
but I don't believe you


"Someone To Know Me"

At first it seemed shocking
but now the idea
tickles my tongue
and intrigues my curiosity
beyond the ability
to rationalize or resist:

I want to live with you!

I want to wake
each morning
in your arms

comforted by your oddness

seduced by your knowledge
of my ways.

I want to care for you

brush your hair
put lotion on your scars

and pet you at bedtime,
watching your eyes close slow
  like a child's
heavy with the thousand things
that filled your day.