Dancing with the Flame
By
Jamieson Wolf
Third
collected works of poetry * 212 pages
Author
Bio:
Jamieson has been writing since
a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in
school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies
and live out his dreams.
He is a Number One Best Selling
Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different
genre’s. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media,
charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet
and graphic designer.
He currently lives
in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Tula, who is
fearless.
Social Media Links:
Blurb:
Following the Number One Best Sellers,
Talking to the Sky and Talking with the Earth, Dancing with the Flame contains
poems that are part memoir and part journey towards self-love.
They are Wolf’s attempt to not only find
balance but to love all parts of himself, even those that are most difficult to
love.
They are a testament to the strength of
the human spirit. The poems show us that whatever life throws at us, with
courage anything is possible.
With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks
about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.
Buy
Links:
Excerpt:
What I Had Become
When the New Year
began,
I looked into the
mirror.
I saw a reflection
of myself
from long ago. I
was
lying on a bed,
weak,
my whole world
changed.
I watched as my
reflection
lifted a hand and
beckoned to me.
“Come on.”
He said.
I touched a hand to
the glass
and it was as if
there was no glass
there.
The veil between
the present
and the past was
thin.
I stepped through
the mirror
and found myself in
a place
that I remembered
but fought
so hard to forget.
It was dark and
there was only
one small light in
the room.
Even so, by that
light I saw
who I used to be
lying
on the bed, my past
self,
my other self. He
regarded me,
and I looked at
him.
I remembered that
day,
how the night
before the New Year
my life had changed
forever,
never to be the
same again.
I knew just how he
was feeling
as I had been him,
he had been me.
He was weak and
disoriented,
unable to walk very
well at all,
his whole world
seeming to
move around him,
unable to keep still.
He regarded me with
tired eyes,
the fear in them so
total.
He knew that
something was wrong.
“You forgot about
me.”
He said.
“You forgot our
anniversary.”
It was true. I had
forgotten.
Every year since
that day,
I always wondered
if this
would be the year
that it happened,
the year where I
lost control
of my body once
more.
For a while, I
lived in fear
of December 31st, of who I had been
and of what I had
become on that day.
“I’m sorry,”
I said.
“I did forget. I
did forget you.”
“Why?”
He asked.
“Because I left you
behind. Because I’m so much stronger now. So much happier.”
He regarded me with
a blank expression,
the fear increasing
in his eyes until
they were full of
tears.
“I don’t know
what’s wrong with me. I’m so afraid.”
“I know,”
I said kindly.
I sat on the bed
beside him and took his hand
in my own. It was
cool and sweaty and
I remembered how
warm I’d been,
how nothing had
felt right,
and how my own body
had turned against me.
“You’ll have to be
strong,”
I said.
“There is a lot
more pain coming, but you’ll have to be stronger than you’ve ever been. Can you
do that for me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t, but
you’ll learn. There will come a moment when you’ll want to quit, where you’ll
want to give up and head towards the darkness. But I promise you, good times
are coming.”
He looked at me
with such
an open expression,
one of yearning
for something
better. I remembered
wearing that look,
wishing and hoping
so fiercely that it
was painful.
“Okay,”
he said.
“Okay.”
I heard my partner
calling me from
the other side of
the mirror,
his deep voice
making the liquid glass
move in ripples. I
took one last look
at who I used to be
and patted his hand,
leaned forward to
kiss him on the forehead.
“I have to go now.”
“I know you do.
Don’t forget me, okay?”
“I won’t, I
promise.”
With that, I stood
and moved towards the glass.
When I stepped
through the glass,
I left behind what
I had been
and into what I had
become.
1. How did you get
started writing?
I’ve always been a writer. I wrote as a child,
mostly stories, since I was eight or as soon as I was able to string words
together. I was nineteen when I decided to make it a profession.
2. Name three things
on your desk right now.
A Tarot guidebook, my cup of coffee in a Harry
Potter mug and a statue of Buddha.
3. Hamburger or sushi?
Always sushi!
4. If I were your
favorite cookie I would be what flavor?
Macadamia and white chocolate without question!
5. Open your new
release to any page and tell us what is happening.
It’s a poem called Floating on a Sea of Stars. Here
it is:
Floating
on a Sea of Stars
I walked into
the room and
tried not to
shiver. The hospital
was cold, especially
so in my
gown with my
back exposed for
all to see.
The technician smiled
weakly at me.
It was late
and who knew
how many MRI’s
she still had
left to do.
She gestured to
the machine, sitting
larger than life
in the middle
of the room.
“Here are your ear plugs. And you even get a little party hat.”
She handed me
a disposable cap
that kept the
machine sterile. She
gestured again at
the MRI machine.
“I want you to lay down, putting your head here in this rest. I’m
also going to prop a pillow under your legs.”
I nodded and
hefted myself up
onto the table.
I lay down
as she helped
me guide myself
into the proper
position. She attached
the camera that
would take close
pictures of my
head and neck.
This was the
moment I always
began to lose
it a little.
I felt I
was being shut
into a cage,
with no exit.
“Try not to move while the MRI is on.”
She said. I
knew I would
be able to
hear her voice
once I was
in the machine.
I nodded and
the table slid
into the long
metallic tube. My eyes
were closed and
despite whatever bravery
I possessed, my
eyes watered with
a few tears.
I opened them
and blinked a
few times to
chase the tears
away. It was
then that I
noticed the stars.
Someone had stuck
stars on the
inside of the
tube. I looked
at them and
marveled at the
sight of such
a happy thing
here. I heard
the clicks of
the machine starting
up and then
the MRI started,
shaking the table
that I lay on
as the magnetic
rings moved faster
and faster around
me. I closed
my eyes and
focused on my
breathing. After a
few breaths, I
was able to
breathe deeply. I
eased into
my breathing, letting
their rhythm compliment
the sounds of the
machine as it
thrummed around me.
After some time,
It began to
feel as if
I was sliding
out of the
magnetic tube. I
opened my eyes
and saw the
stars were still
in front of
me. I hadn’t
moved. I closed
my eyes again
and after a
moment, the sensation
of moving returned.
It was as if
an unseen wave
of water ran
beneath me, except
it wasn’t water,
but stars. I
could feel their
sparkle caress my
skin. I was
still moving, sliding
out of the
machine. I heard
a voice speak
in my ear.
“You’re doing so well. We’re almost done. Just a few more
minutes.”
I opened my
eyes and saw
the sky, filled
with sparkling stars.
They joined with
the ones that
held me aloft.
I floated there,
held by a sea
of stars. It
seemed like I
could look into
them forever and
never see the
end. Below me,
the machine began
one last loud
round of thrums,
bumps and beeps
It sounded like
the music that
stars would make,
unintelligible to my
human ears. The
the voice spoke
softly once more.
“You’re almost done. You better come back now. You’re almost
done.”
I closed my
eyes and relaxed,
floating downward until
I felt the press of
the sliding table
against my back.
The tickling of
the stars lessened
as the machine
began to settle
itself around me.
I felt the
stars leave from
beneath my body.
They slide out
as if made
of water. Then
the machine gave
one final click.
I opened my
eyes and was
once more looking
at the yellow
stars that someone
had stuck inside
the machine. I
said a silent
note of thanks
to that technician,
as those stars
had given me
a way to
float amongst the
stars that came
from forever. As
I walked out
of the room,
I looked behind
me and saw
that I left
behind a trail
of stars, sparkling
in the air.
I almost reached
out to touch
them, to run
my fingers through
them. Instead, I
made a wish
on one of
them and hoped
that it would
come true.
6. Heels, flats or
sneakers? (or nothing at all)
As I would kill myself in heels, always sneakers.
7. Tell us one tip you
would pass on to new writers.
Just keep writing. Is you have the will and want to
write, just do it. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.
8. Plotter or
pantster?
Pantser. Whenever I try to plot, I get writers
block.
9. What is your
favorite movie or book and why?
The Princess Bride, both book and movie. I just
love that, despite everything, true love always wins.
10. What's next on your
writerly horizon?
I’m going to continue my current work in progress
called Boy Friends and hopefully put out a book of short stories.
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