Monday, February 16, 2009


Well, welcome to the world of the technologically challenged. When my blog wouldn't accept my posts, I looked to the help center, and somehow managed to revert my current blog to what they refer to as a 'classic view' thus eliminating my layout page and all my old links, so I am in the process of creating a new blog that will hopefully be more friendly to me, and to you as well! I am sorry for any inconvenience, but if you would be so kind as to paste this new link into your data, you can now find me at Jukota's New Place

You will actually have to copy and paste the new url link, as I have, alas, deleted the section that would allow you to easily click on the new link!

I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you and thank you for following me during my time of confusion!

Julie C. Eger

Friday, February 13, 2009

Metal Rose Sculpture: Photo by Julie Eger

Happy Valentine's Day!

Suited For Love

He hurries past the girl
in the spandex running suit,
past the pretty waitress
in her tight uniform
at the outdoor cafe'
and up the steps
to stand in front
of her door
in his blue suit coat,
flowers in one hand,
anticipation in the other.

~~Julie Eger

Monday, February 9, 2009

For OneSingleImpression: movement

photos by Julie Eger

like some guilty thing
he trembles when he takes off
his wedding ring




~~julie eger

Friday, February 6, 2009

sketch by Mary Lou Judy

It isn't always known what will happen when Mary Lou Judy's pencil hits the page, but whether it's a drawing or a poem that appears, you can be sure the image will be clear. It might be a self portrait or include a touching memory of leaving behind small hand prints in wet cement. She is an artist who touches your heart.

Mary Lou Judy has been published in The Wisconsin Poet's Calendar, The Chicago Quarterly Review, Free Verse, Once Around the Kitchen Table, At the Heart of Riverwood, Write Away! An Anthology of Poems, and in several chapbooks of haikai-no-renga. She lives with her spouse, Richard, in Stevens Point, WI.

A New Beginning 2009

photo by J. Eger
Article courtesy of Barbara Fitz Vroman

The Original Voice to feature Julie Eger

The Original Voice has presented a wide range of visiting poets, musicians, authors and even comics, from numerous places, including Nekoosa, Appleton, Westfield, and Milwaukee. On Thursday evening, January 8th, one of our Waushara area poets, Julie Eger, will be featured at the group's new home, The Coloma Hotel.

Eger, as the found and coordinator of The Original Voice, has been reluctant to be the highlighted presenter, but has finally given in to the pressure from others to take the spotlight. Eger has lived in Waushara County all her life so much of her poetry and prose reflect the people and places in this area, which give it a special interest and poignancy to those of us who were also raised or reside here.

Eger's intent in founding The Original Voice was to encourage the expression of others, who as she once did, created music, poetry, songs, or prose in secret because she feels 'Art is meant to be shared."

Publish Post

Thursday, February 5, 2009

And Then There's the War in Iraq

Photo by J. Eger

It's always a dilemma
because you can only read
two poems at the Poet Tree Reading,
and you must keep the introductions
shorter than the works themselves
and this is important
so all during the day
I'm thinking, which two will it be?
Should I bring more than two poems
and let fate
and the mood of the crowd decide?
Should I read the one
about my mother's ashes
and she's not even dead yet
or the one about grandma's cookies,
which isn't about cookies at all?
Will my poems be good enough
or will the audience just sit
and smile, nodding politely
because I was brave enough
to stand before them
and read these words
that scare even me?
And then I think how amazing it is
that I have more than one poem
to choose from,
and if that's the extent of my worries,
then really
I have nothing to worry about
after all.

~J. Eger 2008

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Eternal Eclipse

Ain't any sunshine, Willie
in the bottom of that bottle.
Ain't any sunshine down that road.

Ain't any sunshine, Willie
at the end of that needle
and there ain't any sunshine
in the cup of her hand
as she reaches out to smack you one
for that time she came to see you
and you told the guys at work
she was comin' on to you
but really it was because
you were on the verge
of losing your job
after one too many hangovers
and even though you and Charlie
had a secret language
while you ran the excavator
and he was in the hole
and if he squeezed
his fingers together
it meant meant go one foot deeper
you thought the company
would never let you go,
and how the last time she saw you
was when you came
knockin' on her door,
after you had agreed
to testify against her at the trial,
sayin' she wasn't a good mom,
she let you in and listened
while you stumbled through
your apology, sayin' her ex
was gonna pay you a $100 to lie,
and you were hard up,
but she knew you would have done it
for a bottle of whiskey
and now they're all callin'
and tellin' her they saw
your obituary in the newspaper
and how sad it is you're gone now,
and only 45 years old
and all she can think is
there ain't going to be any sunshine
where you're goin', Willie.
There ain't any sunshine, Willie
under that lid.

Julie Eger 2009

Sunday, October 12, 2008

in the fitting room

I tried on many mirrors~

they were all too small

~~ J. C. Eger

this haiku inspired by OneSingleImpression prompt: reflecting - from what seems a long long time ago.

(this haiku was first posted when I went by the name Casconda - it's a location thing)

Photo by Julie Eger

Friday, September 19, 2008

No Soliciting photo by Julie Eger

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Little Lesson in Alliteration

Wild September Plums photo by Julie Eger

Plum pudding.

Plum pie.

Plum perfect.

~~ J. Eger

Sunday, August 31, 2008

The Great Letting Go

Red Rolling Pin photo by Julie Eger

I didn't look as he examined
each item in the box
from my mother's kitchen
filled with all the things
I decided I didn't want -
at least until I peeked.

He was holding the rolling pin,
with its chipped red handles,
smooth surface, dark greasy sheen
of memories of pie crusts
and special occasions, apples,
peaches, pears, and years of cinnamon
wafting now all around.

I almost sprang from the chair
near my makeshift table
at the side of the garage
where I was stationed
so I could keep my eye
on these paltry things
lined up on the table -
all this stuff for sale.

I almost shouted someth
to the man holding the red rolling pin
but I had promised myself
no matter what I saw
I would not look back.

~~ Julie Eger

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Mail Box 21 Photo by Julie Eger

a million ideas
and just one little box
to launch them from

~J. Eger

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

July 22, 1978

Catch and Release

and when the morning came
it brought a message -
remember what’s so special
about today?
and I had to blink back
think back through time
to see what I might have missed
and then it started to come
through all the words
and all those years
piled on boxes and new houses
and not enough money
for all the betrayal
of lying and leaving
so much behind
because remembering
hurt too much.

Today was the day I married you
all those years ago,
and in my head I said
Happy Anniversary Vern,
wherever you are.
Happy Anniversary 30 years ago.

photo by R. J. Thompson/ Carter Studio 1978

~~ Julie Eger

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Splittin' Image

attempting a rubaiyat
With ax in hand he bends at waist,
steadies the log until it’s placed,
exact enough to take a blow,
then ax meets wood in sharp embrace.

His breath - a tree - a lonely crow -
a rhythmic sound from long ago;
this kind of work he must repeat
to quell some inner dwelling foe.

A thing inside becomes complete
whenever ax and wood do meet.
For like those of his ilk and kind
upon some stump the ax must beat.

Laboring long beneath the pines
quiets something in his mind.
He stacks the wood in long straight lines.
He stacks the wood in long straight lines.

by Julie C. Eger

Cruising For A Poem

drawing by Julie Jannette 1974


With mind wide open
I cruise the back roads
searching for verbs,
a few good nouns,
an idea I can throw
in the back of my truck.
Keep the image.
Drive it home.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

An Evening With Lou Roach

…and we drank ‘til the bottles were empty, an evening punctuated with profound conversation, she drinking from the Queen’s glass, the one I found in the house up in Keweenaw, next to Amos Bammert’s blacksmith shop, Juliette’s glass, and the wine was good, and my husband smiling, as though he heard me for the first time, talk of my writing, and he said later, “I never knew.”

~ Julie Eger

photo by J. Eger

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Excerpt from Essay - Navigation Day

photo by J. Eger
She took her cup and went outside, standing on the deck, letting the morning get to know her, standing, offering herself to the day the way a person would offer their hand to a strange dog, letting it sniff her, see if she was worthy.

~~ Julie Eger

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Morel Dilemma

photo by J. C. Eger

To pick or not to pick
the morels, that is the question
nature asks of me.

~Julie Eger

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The Gazing Ball

photo by Julie Eger

The Gazing Ball

(overheard in the garden aisle of the great big shopping center)

And we will get her a gazing ball for Mother’s Day
to distort the flowers in her garden
just in case her world isn’t distorted enough
with dreams of peace that will never come
in our lifetime and half-hearted hopes for truth
and understanding where everyone believes
they have the right idea about how to make it happen
while their neighbor or the guy in the car
in front of them has their head up their ass
with no clue how to achieve peace or even live
their own lives the right way and
the Kiwanis Clubs and Rotary Clubs
walk up and down the shoulders of the highway
picking up garbage the rest of us leave behind
and where will they put it all,
as if putting it in one big pile
in a designated area is better
than leaving it lie in the ditches
but then everyone bitches about all the crap
we throw away while all the big companies
keep making more crap to put in the trucks
with all their precious cargo and noxious exhaust
and in the end we believe in the idea of crap,
but it’s never our own, it belongs, always,
to the other guy.

J. Eger

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

My Mother's Doves

digitally altered photo by Julie Eger

We didn’t know until she gave us the pictures,
those professional photos of herself, for Christmas,
this, the woman who could smell a camera coming
she, who could duck behind a counter quicker
than anyone I knew in order to dodge having
her picture taken. My sister and I figured it out.
Mother was dying, and this was her way of telling us
because she wouldn’t talk about death.
When we confronted her, she said
she’d made her decision four months ago
when they gave her six months to live. No more
cutting, she said. I’m doing this my way,
and if you’re not with me, you’re against me
and I’m telling you right now, I would love
to have your support because I can’t fight this
and the both of you. We all cried then.
Fifteen years later she told me about the doves -
how she pictured them every day, pecking away
the little pieces of cancer and carrying them
to a place where they couldn’t hurt her anymore,
where they couldn’t hurt anyone else.
It was very important they drop the pieces
where they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

J. C. Eger

Friday, April 25, 2008


Photos by Julie Eger

You cannot lure
my mother with wine
to make her come alive;
you must give
her seeds to bury.

~Julie Eger

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Wind and Leather

Photo by Julie Eger

I took her out
for the first time today
Is there anything else
I need to say?

J. Eger

Saturday, April 19, 2008

This One's For Sharon

Photo by Julie C. Eger

It's nice to know
I'm not alone
when the subject
turns to stone(s).

(these are a few of my favorites)

Julie C. Eger

Sunday, April 13, 2008


Photo by Julie Eger

snow is obstinate
attempting to push back spring
tulips disagree

~~ Julie Eger

Tuesday, April 8, 2008


Photo by Julie Eger

Along the shore of Buffalo Lake
the waves washed
washed away the sins of the warriors
Warriors hell bent and broken
broken among limbs and promises
promises never kept
kept upon the lips of judges or kings
or pioneers or ordinary men.
Along the shore of Buffalo Lake
the waves washed
washed back the broken promise
of a secret the earth chose not to keep.

~~ Julie C. Eger