Today’s choice
Previous poems
Julie Stevens for Mental Health Awareness Week
You Ask Me if I’ve Had a Nice Day
Are these the words you want me to say
about how my day became a raging river
crashing through my bones?
Its giant stones thumped my body
like the fall of a hammer.
Does that terrify you?
Have you managed a day while being dragged
backwards through all the muck,
still holding on to your invisible truth?
I have no proof, but I couldn’t walk to the fridge,
never mind my car, couldn’t even wash two cups
in the sink and don’t get me swearing
about the delivery driver, who came strolling in
just after I’d sat down with no legs left
to reach my front door.
My words may claw your restful evening,
stop you holding on to your important week,
leave you far from that bright exit.
Is this really what you want to hear?
Julie Stevens writes poems that cover many themes, but often engages with the problems of disability. She has 4 published pamphlets: Journey Through the Fire (2024), Step into the Dark (2023), Balancing Act (2021) with The Hedgehog Poetry Press and Quicksand (Dreich, 2020). Website: www.jumpingjulespoetry.com
IS&T editor Helen Ivory talks to poet Julie Stevens about writing poems as therapy
Helen: Can you say something about when you started writing in earnest? Had you written before you became disabled?
Julie: When I was a student at Homerton College, Cambridge, I remember a friend suggesting we wrote poems as a way to pass time, usually in the afternoons after lectures had finished. I have kept 3 poems from that time (dated 1991) and do not know how many more there were. They have the same dark themes as I write now: ‘Lift this being from clouded confusion and educate’ and ‘Why do you betray us life?’ My Multiple Sclerosis (MS) started at Homerton in the first year (1989-1990) and I think it was already showing in my writing.
Teaching then took over and no more poems were written, as far as I can remember. Possibly during that time, I wrote poems with the children. I dared to show those 3 college poems to a therapist 27 years later and he sent me off with the words: ‘Go and write some more.’ I’d now had MS for over 30 years so had plenty to write about. Who’s to say what would have happened if I hadn’t taken that chance?
Helen: I think one of poetry’s gifts is finding shape for trauma. How does writing poems help you to say what you want to say rather than just saying it? You Ask Me if I’ve Had a Nice Day is about this very thing. Can you say a little about how transforming experience into art is therapeutic for you?
Julie: I think poetry sets me free from the reins of illness and trauma. It gives me permission to speak in a way I wouldn’t normally do. I can venture further, be daring with comparisons and dig right into the heart of them. For me, in a poem, using concise words is so important, so I must just say how it is. By using a metaphorical voice or simile gives me freedom to think about the worst or most beautiful situation, similar to what I’m thinking.
I have a clear screen in front, no one near peering over when I’m writing and am able to be as honest and as powerful as I want to be without any worry of what will they think? That can come later, not now. I am in my own space and can write exactly how I feel. The process is incredibly relaxing for me and that sense of achievement when you finish a poem beats everything, so yes, it is therapeutic.
Helen: I always feel that thinking of myself as a person who writes poems gives me a voice I wouldn’t have had otherwise, or at least a clear channel for all of the chaos. Do you have similar feelings?
Julie:Yes, for sure. I wouldn’t be here now, talking to you, if it wasn’t for the poems. I had to retire from teaching nearly 20 years ago due to my MS and spent time playing silly online games and whatever else?! Poetry has definitely given me a voice, made me someone with a purpose, a passion for writing, that I can share with others at poetry events online and in person. Even better, they tell me how my poems speak to them.
I’m not only now trying to improve my walking, but I’m reciting words and lines as I make my way around the house and garden and the path often seems shorter. It spurs me on, make me aim for more, walk further.
Helen: Your most recent pamphlet Journey Through the Fire appeared from The Hedgehog Press last year. Can you say something about how you have grown as a poet since you started writing and what might be next?
Julie: Since I started writing full-time about 7 years ago, I regularly attend poetry workshops and readings. There is always something more to learn, be it a new form, a new theme, or a new poetry book to read. I will continue to write poems about my health for both adults and children, but with each workshop comes new ideas and with each magazine submission comes a different prompt. I am now writing about relationships, my family, the weather, current events in the news, to name a few.
My latest pamphlet Journey Through the Fire contains illness poems, but also my school years are there, my parents and friends, Alzheimer’s, sewing and a visit to a café. My next pamphlet out very soon with Flight of the Dragonfly Press is called Forest Girl. My love for nature is included here alongside how it affects my MS, but these are my typical dark poems. I may be writing about flowers, trees and the sea, for example, but I always show it through my own experience and difficulties. As Margaret Royall wrote: ‘Julie’s Forest Girl poems present the reader with an alternative, often startling view of nature. No pretty descriptions, just raw emotions pouring from a dark place.’
Paul Stephenson
Goya was an octopus that smelt of funerals on Mondays.
Sundays, the scent of getting ready.
Jessica Mookherjee for International Women’s Day
The pain comes plucked from a field
in a garland of sunlight.
Jenny Pagdin for International Women’s Day
After many moons
I am perhaps readying to speak.
Kate Noakes for International Women’s Day
Each year in March, on the eighth day,
the one we’re allowed to call ours,
slowly, Jess reads our names . . .
Julia Webb for International Women’s Day
hoover witch mum / mum on the rocks / mum’s coach horses / all the king’s mums /
Sue Burge for International Women’s Day
speaks whale, speaks star
breathes in — tight as a tomb
breathes out — splintered crackle
Gill Connors for International Women’s Day
Rack and stretch her, loosen flesh
from bone. A jointed bird will not squawk.
Helen Ivory for International Women’s Day
A woman somewhere is typing on the internet
my heart wakes me up like clockwork.
Hélène Demetriades
At breakfast my man sticks a purple
magnolia bud in my soft boiled egg.
The flower opens, distilling to lilac.