JULIE A. DICKSON
Author Feature - July 2021

Julie A. Dickson is a poet and YA author whose work ranges from Bullying and teen issues to elephant advocacy to nature and environment. Her full length works are available on Amazon.

 

Dickson holds a BPS in Gerontology, allowing her home care work with elderly to enhance her poetry. Journals such as Ekphrastic Review, The Avocet, Misfit, Gleam, Smoky Quartz, Open Door and many others have included poems and stories. Originally from Buffalo, NY she makes her home in New Hampshire with two rescued feral cats, Claire and Cam.


Published Works:

Elephants , A World Without Ivory [Sunrise Press 2018]

Untumbled Gem [Goldfish Press 2016]

Big Boys, Bullied into Silence [Piscataqua Press 2014]

Forest Nectars [Morris Publishing 1997, Reprinted Lulu 2011]

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FEATURED BOOK

FEATURED POETRY

ELEPHANTS
Elegant in their stance

Lumbering slowly through the forest

Echoed voices, rumbles as they feed

Patiently caring for their families

Handsome young bulls growing to adulthood

Aunts and cousins nurturing their calves

No death goes un-mourned among them

Tenuous grip on freedom slips away as

Slaughter remains the imminent threat

UNTUMBLED GEM
Sometimes I am rough like an untumbled gem,

true essence hidden below the uncut surface.

An outward façade covers my deep red garnet heart,

spiritual warmth gently held in balance.


When polished with sunlight, I might glow

in facets of brilliance like a rose quartz;

but don’t be deceived by my reflection – 

for healing takes time under soft reiki-touch.


While gazing into seemingly endless depths,

the crystal light of my topaz-brown eyes

holds something else, as yet undefined

that mirrors a struggle you may have shared.

JOY

Dance around on carpeted floor

music plays, perhaps Clair de Lune,

no matter – my arms swing on their own,

a tempo of irresponsibility – in glee,

ah, Swan Lake now I’m in a ballet

on tip-toes, but no, I am no dancer.

 

I sit and wonder about joy, fleeting

thoughts while writing to birdsong,

eyes raised to sunlit window, finch?

No matter, I cannot play music, nor sing

but in words I can bring to life a time

when I smiled, wonderful bliss

 

taking over my face, if only a bell

rang at the moment I saw the new baby,

son of my daughter, delight to see

her smile, recall that exact time –

no matter, I can bring it back, her joy

in announcing Holden is born.

BIG BOYS

Facedown in a snow bank,

my brother lay frozen and still

Not wanting to incite more anger

from the kids that attacked him

though what he did to deserve

a torn jacket and a face full of snow

he would never find out.


I stood far away, afraid to move

until the big boys wandered off,

until their laughter died down

as they rounded the corner

on their way to buy candy at the store

as if the most natural sequence of events

was to tear my brother’s jacket and push him

face first into snow and then buy candy.