Three Unpolished Poems from Jill for Renaissance Group Thursday February 13 2025
jill stockinger
Jill Stockinger
My Name Is America
My head is high,
higher than mountains;
my arms spread wide,
wider than a river.
My heart's on fire,
flaming like a star;
I'm crazy America,
and I'm crashing through.
I'm wily like a cockroach,
no one can stop me;
I'm a volcano set to boil,
and I'm starting to heave.
I'm loud and I'm brilliant,
no one else is this bright;
I know that I'm holy,
and I'm always right.
I'm eating the forests,
I'm eating the grain,
and I'll eat this whole world
before I'm done.
____________________
Anger's Harvest
When anger grips me,
the shadow stops my hands.
It's the shadow of a young man
who died in a bar fight.
I was cleared
by a jury of my peers,
but there's a neon sign
flashing GUILTY
in my mind.
The only thing that dims it
is drinking and pills.
Though I try to do good,
the Devil owns my soul.
I'm in Hell already–
and Hell below
will be worse.
A Young Girl's Anthem by Jill Stockinger
I won't sing you a new song–
I've barely learned the old.
I won't do any sewing;
my poor work can't be sold.
The work you give me is boring,
so I won't do as I'm told.
I like to play and eat blueberries;
I don't care how much you scold.
Some say I'll never marry,
but what is that to me?
I'm happy in the forest
eating blueberries and honey.
At thirteen, such strong words slip
from my daughter's lips.
How true will they be
when she's twenty-three?
I hope her spirit doesn't change,
though she's called touched and strange,
but life can be hard for those seen
as different; people are often mean.
A hundred years from now, it won't
matter, says my head.
No one will remember us;
we'll be long dead.
What I'm hoping for, I can't even say–
if secretly
I want her to remain headstrong
and independent or that she will marry.