Posted by: tsopr | December 25, 2010

Stephanie Kjaerbaek, Canadian Poet

Stephanie Kjaerbaek was born in December 1975 in Powell River, British Columbia, Canada. Educated in social work and accounting. Hospitality industry employee. She has travelled to U.S. and Europe. She’s single and enjoys biking, poetry, guitar and other pursuits.

                                Featured Poetry of Stephanie Kjaerbaek

In Defiance Of

Fireflies gather on nights of rain
After days that God was a lightning waltz
Rhythms of fires like nightmarish dreams
Woken up from a state of dormancy.
Dreams stolen from me in my heyday
Thoughts of revenge keep emotions at bay
The rocky shore calls out to me
To forget acts of avengers I see.
Blood in a military family
Dead son of an Israeli
Wars between cult gatherings
At the stone walls of Jerusalem.
The books speak of nothing to me
In a climate of bloodshed for holy misery
Interpretations of history
Intifada and the AWOL soldier.

The Artists’ Manifesto

She left home in search of Rome
–All sculpture and crumbling finery–
With a sense of dread, she looked half-dead:
On the Coliseum steps, she had slept.
Her father said, “Why buy an artist’s gallery?”
She paid her way with jobs and painting sales,
And let go of the benefits she had reaped.
Once a thief–devoid of personal belief–
She hit the bottle while they were sleeping.
‘For the same reasons I deface public space
And the reasons I bought warehouse space,
I refuse to endure this snarling.’
Why should she bear false humility
For the sake of upper-class drudgery?
She preferred lunch with Edvard Munch
To brunch with farmers at the dairy
She launched a protest statement
That her aging parents found scary.
So she left home and went back to Rome
Till she settled in the slums with Anthony.
Now she lives there without due care
With brushes and her own crumbling finery.


Intimacy, what he offered to me
Sensual moments inside the trees
A forest of wet dew and memories
A meadow of deer and cougar call to me.
Intimacy, what comes only for free
Not one to impress me with his money
Food for the scavenger who is hungry
Follow the signs down the cavern passage.
My body gets the message, an instinct
Time to run away, get close, retreat
My mind sees through the pattern of deceit.

Copyright © 2010 Stephanie Kjaerbaek


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