Scott Chisholm Lamont, RN.

 
* Poet, Author, and Storyteller *
 


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I have finally started posting my poetry here.

My goal is to get a PayPal donation link up too. I think that a fair exchange of energy is appropriate for the enjoyment of art, and will ask that people who want to download my work make a small contribution for it. I leave the value up to the discretion of the reader.


 

 

A gift of poetry for two dear friends:

Two Boys

Alone in the desert,
under a broad clear sky
filled with indifferent stars,
I dreamt of your smile.

Sad name had I,
noble burden
waiting to be supplanted.
My heart was barren
as the cold deep ocean,
a space
filled with loss.
Who would brave
its vast expanse?

What my heart knew not,
my Spirit held certain:
You were near me,
brave voyager,
unknown lover,
clear eyed and warm hearted.
Close as my breath,
far as the sky.

You, a smiling young man
from a new town,
a seeker of wisdom.
What were you looking for?
What paths would you travel?
Would you be my valiant protector,
my determined guardian,
holding back dark fears
with a kiss?

Strange chance,
to be in the desert,
so seemingly empty,
yet open my eyes,
and find my dream before me
cloaked in your form.
Who can say
what Divine hand
brought this gift?

All it took was that smile,
that glow setting dry air
to shimmer and dance.
Aloof not longer,
the stars leaned down
and whispered in my ear:
Here is the One
who could fill that ocean.
Hold him to you
by the heel, if need be
and don’t let go.
So I did.

Love is the place
where Flesh and Spirit merge -
something found
at the end of desire,
yet always present,
realized or not,
seeking its mirror.
Sweet reflection,
what I found in you,
I found in myself.

Now here we stand
under the sparkling stars,
an island
conquered by love,
two boys together clinging
in the warm desert oasis
at sorrow’s end.

By Scott Chisholm Lamont,
June 2004

|

I wrote this for for the Handfasting of Billy & Tristan, which took place last summer in the labyrinth Tristan built in their garden. It was a lovely ceremony.

A gift of the Season from a friend:

I participate in a poetry writing group at UCSF called Poets on Parnassus. One of my friends from that group sent me this little "doggerel" for the holidays. I asked her permission to post it here, and she kindly gave it to me. Enjoy!

Ho, ho, ho .........


‘Tis the week before Christmas and all through the mall
conservative Christians are having a ball.

They have a mandate ‘cause Kerry was Gored,
and Bush gets four years of free room and board.

“Merry Christmas” stores -- that’s where they shop;
“Happy Holidays” signs just have to stop.

They boycott the stores that are on the wrong track.
Christmas is Christ’s, and they’re taking it back.

They’ve put beefy guards round Victoria’s store
so hot Christian men will be sinning no more.

They’re singing and chanting and writing big checks
for teens who sign up to never have sex.

As for the new year, the plans that they’ll make
will turn your cheeks pale; you’ll barf your fruitcake.

The Senate is theirs, as well as the House,
but they don’t have the courts yet; that’s reason to grouse.

The judges were wrong to allow gays to marry.
God made Adam and Eve; not Adam and Harry.

Trial lawyers, of course, will be Blitzened and Dondered,
and folks who say f*** will have their mouths laundered.

Dear ladies, take note: new programs begin.
Abortions are out, and burkas are in.

There’s the church and the state, and all of that flak --
Yes, they’ll be kept separate, but just in Iraq.

So what do we do to get out of this fix?
Let’s start working now for 2006.

© Miranda Coffey
December 17, 2004

|

Miranda has also published a chapbook of poetry entitled Forgiveness. If you're interested in a copy, e-mail me.

 

A sampling of my poetry

I have some older poems that I wrote in the 1989 to 1999 period. They are all in .PDF format, so you will need Adobe Reader for these. The early ones are kind of dark, even depressing - perhaps appropriate for an angst ridden young man, which I was. Very early attempts in terms of style, and written in a free form. All three have been read on CBC in Alberta on a program reviewing the works of Bow Valley writers.

I have one poem from that period that was an inspired piece. I was attending an Earth Healing ceremony at the Morley reservation of the Nakota Nation back home in Alberta, and during the closing we were all asked to say something in circle. This just flowed through me and out my mouth. Fortunately, I wrote it down almost immediately, and so it wasn't lost. It is presented here with little refinement. It is kind of strident towards the end, and maybe a little patronizing, but I think it captures my passion at the time quite well, and reflects some of my early spiritual understanding. I've toyed with the idea of rewriting it from a more mature perspective, but don't know that I want to. I might prefer to write a completely new piece in the same form and with the same theme, and see what results.

Last in this group, I'm posting a mildly amusing, if macabre piece that was developed in a writing group I participated in for several years in Banff called "Writer as Live Animal". We each put words or short lines into a pot, then pulled out a selection and used them in a poem. It is kind of like developing a found piece. I submitted mine to a poetry contest my mom found advertised in the newspaper, which I found out years later is a scam. It is run by the National Library of Poetry - do not deal with them. They publish you in a book you have to pay a fortune to buy, they offer no editing nor assistance to developing writers, and they run "conferences" to suck in people who want to be writers - for the purpose of sucking money out of said writers wallets. If you have been had by them, you can go to their website and rescind your permission to post your work there. That's what I did. I've checked and they did remove it, but I am embarrassed to say that there are plenty of other Lamonts listed.

I'm also posting three published nursing poems in the section below. The titles link to .HTML pages, and the pages have links for comments. They also have links where you can download .PDF files of the individual poems. I still hold copyright to all three, so please don't re-print or post them without asking permission first.

The first two poems were published in a wonderful anthology of nursing prose and poetry entitled Intensive Care, available through the University of Iowa Press. It was edited by Cortney Davis and Judy Schaefer. Cortney is a good friend and excellent poet, and her website is very nice - check it out! The last poem was published by the University of New Mexico Health Sciences Center periodical the Medical Muse. I have many more poems written or in progress, but have submitted them for publication, so cannot post them here until they are either accepted or rejected. I haven't given up on any of them yet, so I don't have any recent unpublished nursing poetry here.

If you would like to see samples of the published poems out on the net, you can visit Nurseweek, and also the Medical Muse (you need Adobe Reader for this one).

The final section is for my spiritual poetry. I am often inspired by my relationship with the earth as a sacred space, and by the constant yet shifting cycles of the seasons (the early poem mentioned above, "This is a Truth I tell you", is an example). I wrote the first piece in this section for my wife when we were still relatively early in our relationship. Looking back on it now, I love the pagan imagery, which creates a rich sense of place and emotion. The second poem was written in 1997 for the Long Dance, an annual event in Zuzax, New Mexico that celebrates the solstice by drumming and storytelling from sunset to sunup, to carry forward the light into a new solar year. This poem is short, as is befitting the shortest day of the year, and looks forward to the rebirth of the Sun. I have more to post here, some of which I am trying to get published (like my nursing poetry), so it may get posted in fits and starts.

Early Poems:

Because

Northern Men

The Trouble With Normal

This is a Truth I Tell You

First Date

Nursing Poems:

Four Men Sitting

Not Mine

The Hug

 

Spriritual Poems:

The River

Winter Solstice

 

 
 

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Recent Entries:

* Poetry *

Early Works
>> First Date
>> Because
>> Northern Men
>> The Trouble With Normal
>> This is a Truth I Tell You

Nursing
>> Four Men Sitting
>> Not Mine
>> The Hug

Spiritual
>> The River
>> Winter Solstice

 

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Last updated: July 2, 2008 21:55

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