Today, it is my pride to introduce you to the first official Yukon Poet Laureate in Canada, pj johnson. She was formally invested this honour on Canada Day, July 1st 1994. When I contacted her to feature her work in our community, she doesn’t refer to herself as a writer, but rather as a storyteller. You might wonder, where is Yukon? Yukon is the westernmost and smallest of Canada’s three federal territories. Whitehorse is the territorial capital and Yukon’s only city.
Here is a backgrounder of pj johnson and her poems from her website:
The daughter of a Yukon trapper, I am also known as “The Yukon Raven Lady” – a self-proclaimed “Raven Maniac” who led a successful campaign to have my personal symbol and spirit guide, the northern raven, formally recognized as the Yukon’s official Territorial Symbol In 1985.Over the years I have participated in the world of creative arts as a musician/ composer, actress, poet, playwright, photographer, performance artist, and creative mentor. My original creative works have been performed live and televised at various local and national venues.
As an annual performer at the Yukon International Storytelling Festival, in 1992 I composed and produced the play “Dance of the Northern Lights” and was invited to perform it at the National Gallery of Canada and the Astrolabe Theatre in Ottawa. My performances have also been featured on a variety of national television and radio programs such as CTV’s “Canada AM”, CBC’s “Midday”, ABC’s “Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!”, Peter Gzowski’s“Morningside” and WTN’s “Lifestyles” Network.
As a performance artist little of my creative work is actually in print. My first book, “I Sing Yukon” , a small collection of my earliest poems, stories and anecdotes was published in 1982 and is now out of print. A second book, “Rhymes Of The Raven Lady” was published by Hancock House in 1995 and is basically a reprint of “I Sing Yukon”.
At present only my earliest works are actually in book form. Since my first venture into becoming an author in 1982, I have continued to compose creative works and post them online incorporating many artistic genres and disciplines. I consider myself first and foremost a storyteller who delights in sharing the history, mystery, and excitement that is the Canadian North.
Here are some poems from her website:
The poem “she walks with a certain pride“ was inspired by the vision of a Yukon elder I have seen many times, in many forms. A most admirable spirit quietly living a remarkable life yet she is all but invisible. Some of the most amazing people go unnoticed.
“she walks with a certain pride“
moving slowly along the highway
each step a labor and leaning heavily
on a gnarled willow stick
she walks with a certain pride
her wispy hair flowing out
from under a fox-trimmed hood
that frames her sun-dark face
in the tedious tailwinds
of traffic rushing infinitely
her teak-brown gaze
unwavering
and destination-fixed
betrays no air of expectation
only the steady dark prints
of moosehide moccasins
and the rounded tracks
of her pack-laden Husky
trail out behind her
panting, the two plow unbroken drifts
their trail growing distant
in the lengthening of shadows
her old eyes bright in bitter winds that whisper
of a day when Raven stole away the Sun
of drumsongs. dancing.
and of legends passed down by elders
weaving baskets
over pine-scented campfires
as a cool December moon
outlines her smallness
she pauses to tug at the Husky’s harness
sighing frostily
and trudges on
the steady thrust of her
willow stick
piercing the snow
like the rhythm of an ancient drumbeat
she begins to chant a tuneless song
of burning sweetgrass.
sinew-threaded moccasins.
and great warriors
gone back to the earth
like old totems
returned as she
the circle of her life complete
will
©pj johnson March 1989
————————————————————————————————————–
According to Native legend it is said that when our days upon the earth have drawn to a close the owl calls your name. When a loved one moves on into the Spirit World there are often many things left unsaid. This song is dedicated to a friend of mine.
“The Owl Called Your Name”
Now the winds blow cold on the Skagway road
And the snow falls without end
And I never said goodbye to him
Even though he was my friend
Oh why is it so hard to say
What’s hidden in the heart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
Well I saw a sparkle in his eye
As he said, “I’ve got a load
Haulin’ ore from Whitehorse
Down the Skagway Road
Well she’s a steep grade down to Skagway town
And it ain’t much fun to do
But I’ll drive that 18 wheeler
Just to make a buck or two”
I said “Hey that’s great, I’m running late”
He just smiled and walked away
I said “It’s been fun I’ve gotta run.”
But I wish that I had said…
“You touched my heart
You touched my soul
And I have loved you more than you could ever know”
And I wish that I could have told him so
But it was hidden in the heart
That night in a blinding snowstorm
On a winding mountain pass
The fog rolled in and the route got thin
And the road was smooth as glass
And somewhere on that mountain
On a lonely canyon lane
Came the growl and the squeal of smokin’ steel
And the owl called out his name
Now sometimes when I’m dreaming
I see him lookin’ good
I see that sparkle in his eye
And I would tell him if I could….
“You touched my heart
You touched my soul
And I have loved you more than you could ever know
And I wish that I could have told you so
Before the owl called your name”
Now the winds blow cold on the Skagway road
And the snow falls without end
And I never said goodbye to him
Even though he was my friend
Oh why is it so hard to say
What’s hidden in the heart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
The words that mean the most to us
Before we’re torn apart
©pj johnson 1999
I asked pj how important is her heritage to her writing. This is what she wrote to me:
My strongest influence has come from northern culture which is an oral storytelling culture. Recorded history in Yukon scarcely goes back a hundred years. Prior to that, history was preserved orally by the passing down of stories by our elders (oral tradition). The Elders are our heritage, they are the holders of a wealth of knowledge, wisdom, and history. It is only when we understand where we come from that we truly come to know who we are. I feel that in my creative works, I am continuing the tradition.
If you have a question for her, you can contact her at: http://pj-johnson-yukon-poet-laureate.webnode.com/contact-us/
How about you, how important is your heritage or stories from your elders in your
writing ? Or does the lack of heritage help or hinder your poetic journey? Do you regard poets as storytellers?
Thanks for dropping in today! See you tomorrow for our Poetics.
dVerse 
What a fascinating article, Grace. Greetings Friends, Grace will be a little late due to things happening at work….but will be here as soon as she can.
The pub is open. Smiles.
Thanks Mary ~ Good afternoon to everyone ~
I really like the poem “The Owl Called Your Name.” I had heard before that when the owl calls one’s name your time is up. This poem really was very meaningful, beautiful, and touching!
That poem also bringing through the contrast of the modern world of steel and eighteen wheelers with mythology and owls spoke to me too.
To me as well. It reminded me, the rhythm and flow, of tales I was told as a child by the elders on my mother’s side of the family – wild Vikings supposedly. I heard the term many times, sogur(?) /stories. I used to be afraid of owls because I heard they came to take you to the land over the bridge to the land of the dead. As a child, it was frightening but when older, being taken away by an owl wasn’t so bad, all things considered.
I like the symbolism to animals, in this case with the appearance of the owl, signifying that death is near or coming ~ For me, it also speaks the reverence for the animals, which I imagine in those early times, was high & deep ~
Yes! and now…very different. We have a family of owls in our woods. Sometimes when I am walking about at night, I hear them muttering and clucking to each other. I wish I knew their language.
I loved this poem, “The Owl Called Your Name”, emphasizing how life is too short to wait when it comes to our feelings about family and friends.
Indeed. t really is good to emphasize how we need to speak now, to say those things, to hug…
And, as for the question…”Do you regard poets as storytellers?” Most certainly. I do think that many of the poems we write tell a story – either ours or someone else’s, real or imagined. Not ALL poems, but many.
I agree.. I love poetic storytelling.. But most often for me it’s imagined tales
Most of my poems seem to be stories, even the tiny haiku. I wish I knew how to record one so I could post with the poem I would be linking.
I too like poetic storytelling but I love the imaginative write based on someone else’s story or journey ~
It is good to read someone else’s story. I think of great stories that are poems – Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Faery Queen, Paul Revere’s Ride…all of them so wonderful and so taking one out of the ordinary.
I too would agree that poets, like many artists, are storytellers. We certainly choose what part of our stories or that of others we want to tell but we do tell stories.
I think telling stories is the best way to get through, normally I prefer Narrative to lyrical poems
Exactly – and we tell them in a concise / concentrated way oftentimes.
i agree… i love to tell stories with my poetry… and i love when a poet shares a bit of their story through their verse…
This is something I have learn, capturing the stories in my words ~ I see that you Claudia often share your travels in your poems ~ In a way, we get to travel and see the world through your eyes ~
You are always excellent with telling stories in your poetry, Claudia. We always see a glimpse of your life.
I agree that we tell stories in our poetry…even if it is cryptic, which leaves the reader to interpret and imagine the story. I am intrigued by various cultures in the melting pot we call Canada. Writing about them depends on how well these stories and traditions were passed down. I am part German/Austrian and apparently Scottish, but this is another controversial story in itself. I don’t normally write about my ethnic roots, but it could be a good poetic prompt. 🙂
this is really an amazing read… Hey all 🙂 I wish I knew more about my heritage, especially the german side. I’m 1/4 and my greatx2 grandfather was a full blood german. Unfortunately, The German side are racists and want nothing to do with The African side of my family.
And for the storytelling question – hell yes! Poems (many, not all) tell amazingly vivid stories… that’s the thing I love about poetry. My attention span is horrid so reading “mini” stories aka poems is all good… smiles
That side in itself is a tale worth telling..
That is very sad that part of your family is so closed minded, Anthony!
Yeppers. It is sad that that part of your family is how they are. They have missed much in the knowing of you. My father, during WWII refused for German to ever be spoken in our home even though he grew up speaking it. When other racist groups would make their presence known in the community, he would often risk problems to let them know they were not welcome in our neighborhood. I was raised about 3 blocks from Duke U’s (go blue devils!) east campus in the South, but was raised that such things were evil and not to be tolerated. I was lucky in that I was raised among people who were open and not racist. and a fine story I could tell about the first Jewish mayor being elected – funny tale.
Please do tell the story one time ~ I find it interesting to read the background of the poet or where or how their family started ~ When I trace back my roots, it boggles my mind that my ancestors came from Europe, when I was born in my native land, the Philippines.
How interesting you were born in the Philippines! Such a wonderful and beautiful place and the people are amazing.
Thank you ~ At one time, I was trying to learn Japanese, like my brother ~ But I lost interest, while my brother went to Kyoto university, stayed there for 10 years, and now works for a Japanese business in the US. He is very fluent in the language. I mentioned this because I noted you have a deep appreciation for Japanese culture & heritage ~
that is so cool, Grace!
indeed it is… also I would like to hear this funny tale. smiles
What an interesting heritage Anthony ~ I think through the years and generations, there will always part of our heritage that are distinct and don’t want to be mixed up with other cultures ~
Hey all, I have some coverage on my way up to the Swedish far north.
My heritheritage, the story of my family and country rarely peak through. But maybe it’s the cushion that my poetry is built upon. Somehow I wish I could have more in my writing. At least it got me thinking in ways that I can address subjects…
But yes.. I love telling stories, and I love poetry telling stories
I wish so too!!!
I rarely speak about my heritage in my poems too Bjorn ~ Maybe, its because I don’t know much about it, and Western readings have largely influenced my growing up years ~
Maybe sometimes we should all try to share just a little bit about our heritage in poetry….even if we don’t know a whole lot. It would be interesting to read, I think.
This would be a great idea for Poetics.
Great post Grace! I love poems that tell stories.
The Yukon poetry was so exciting 🙂
I agree. I think it is very cool that the Yukon has their own poet laureatte.
Somehow Lapland and Yukon share some similarities – I need to find out something about Sami storytelling and share.
Very unique and a great tribute to the Elders ~
Yes, I agree, Grace. It seems like a lot of their history is known, passed down to the younger generations…which is good!
My heritage rarely peaks through either, Bjorn. I don’t feel I really know enough about my heritage to have it DIRECTLY influence my poetry. I think it does on a subconscious level though. I think somehow that all of what we write is in one way or another influenced by it. I don’t think we can NOT be. It is part of who we are.
That makes a lot of sense.
My poems rarely speaks of my heritage too Mary ~ But my eastern upbringing comes up when I talk about past memories like fruits for example- it will always be mango, guava, star apple, etc. But I agree with you, our heritage is part of who we are ~
Ah, Grace, I always notice the mango, guava, etc. in your poems. Definitely reminds the readers of the poet’s heritage. Smiles.
You are so right, Mary – even when we fight against it, our heritage secretly peaks out somewhere… Shame you didn’t get a chance to explore it in more depth, though.
I do like the way P.J. Johnson writes her heritage. In the two poems you shared, Grace, she has given us glimpses of the culture as only one who has lived it could do. These poems make me want to read more!
Yes! I am going to read more and ask a Canadian friend of mine if she has heard of this incredible and talented woman.
I have provided a link to her website, so if you like to hear and read more of her work, you can check it out ~ I also like another poem from her, Reclaiming ~
Thank you. I am also going to forward to my friend.
my heritage is lost I barely knew my grandparents – but a heritage verbally passed down – I think that sticks longer, becomes part of you.
I agree ~ If my grandparents have told me stories, I would remember them. Like you, I didn’t have a chance to know my grandparents really well.
What I also like is that the Elders have kept their stories alive through oral tradition. I think there was a conscious effort to preserve their culture, without the Western influence.
Ha! this is both literally and metaphorically the topic of my last two epic free verse poetry ‘taling’ posts.. of around 7.5K words each..
I love the way my elders can story ‘tale’ for hours around the table.. effortlessly without catching a breath…
By the time i enjoy THAT in an input furry of school.. i barely have the ability to state an oral paragraph in words….
Now in the Twitter world ‘we’ live in now.. a paragraph is becoming unknown.. and even words are reduced to letters instead of metaphors…
Anyway.. i enjoy it and will continue enjoying it..
even if i the am last ‘human’ on earth who
is capable of going further in life than..
a paragraph…
a word..
and who knows..
eventually..
potentially a letter too..
when the human race
can no longer communicate…
socially.. reciprocally.. or cooperatively..
@all…:)
Some people.. think I am intelligible..
as truly some have likely never ever
come across..
a heArt.. and that is the tale in telling the TRUTH OF A
BRAVE NEW WORLD.. COME TO REALITY.. INSTEAD OF JUST
FICTION…..
in print….
or
thINK.
Oh yeah.. and then there is dance instead of sidewalk straight talk.. but
that’s a story for another comment.. somewhere.. some ..now.. later.. i guess..:)
I enjoy a story well told, with all the metaphor and details ~ I can’t imagine telling a story, short and brief in twitter form ~
Her second poem, in both the type of content, as well as the rhythm, reminds me a lot of some of Robert W Service’s poetry (Rober W Service, although born in Scotland, spent a good portion of his life in Northern Canada and earned the nickname “The Bard of the North”)
for example, check out Service’s “Cremation of Sam McGee” as a great use of poetic story telling in much the same manner as today’s terrific poet!
http://www.internal.org/Robert_W_Service/The_Cremation_of_Sam_McGee
Very interesting Bryan ~ I will check the link that you gave us ~ Thanks ~
Ah, Bryan…..I really do like Robert Service as well. I really don’t think he is as famiiar (as he should be) to most Americans though. Sigh.
What an interesting background and experience! There is a jauntiness at the start and a sadness at the end about the owl poem which feels very much like the Australian Waltzing Maltida song. Thanks for introducing us to such an unusual poet!
I am glad her poems resonated with you Marina~ Thanks for dropping by ~
Oh Grace, I am THRILLED to read this. Thank you for introducing me to a poet I had somehow not known about until now. I am proud and inspired, and am now going to follow her site and catch up on all the wonderful reading I have been missing until now. What a wonderful interview – and artist!!!!!! This does my heart so much good. Thank you both!
I am glad you like her poems Sherry ~ There is a deep reverence in her words for animals and the stories of their Elders ~ Thanks for dropping by ~
Ah, Sherry, I knew you would love this poet. She writes YOUR kind of poems!
Oh this is so wonderful! The Owl poem is just incredible. I think story telling may have been the first type of poetry. Reading this poem brought to mind all my regrets at not saying things I wish I had said.
My heritage is English, Danish, and Irish. We have quite a few “sons” on the end of surnames – Ericsson is one of them. I grew up hearing stories of my forebears both on my mother and father’s sides of the family. I heard how on an island off the NC coast, my family originally settled after coming from the “old world” and were farmers and watermen. I remember as a little ‘un, being taken to the original home place and us walking early one morning on one of the jetties cutting clumps of “coon” oysters – because they were small enough raccoons could easily open with their paws. These clumps of wonderful, tender, briny goodness were part of our breakfast that morning. My great great aunt, tiny and old, had a cloth bag full of still warm homemade biscuits. The clumps of oysters were opened and the oyster cut out and laid between the split biscuits. it sounds awful but it was so good – the cool misty morning, smell of the sea, all of us together walking and talking and munching. I saw the graves of my grandmother’s mother and grandmother and heard stories about these women. My father would tell tales of his family and grandparents during long winter evenings in front of the fire. Most of the stories I have written down because many of the tellers of the stories are dead. My mother still tells tales though.
You have an interesting heritage and I enjoyed the stories you shared as little ‘un. I have not tried that interesting combination for breakfast with the smell of the sea around you. I now wish I listened and took notes when my mother would share stories of her grandparents and dead relatives.
At one point, one of my aunts started doing tape recordings. I have no idea where the recordings are.
That would be a good find, like a treasure box ~
True treasure indeed. How I would love to pick among those jewels.
Ah, I see you have a lot of subjects for poetry! So many stories….nice.
I come from a long line of talkers…
wow I am definitely down for a breakfast that includes oysters!
Us folk from the coast love our seafood! And fresh! Have you ever had shrimp and grits? It is some kinda good breakfast.
For breakfast, I haven’t tried it. What I have tried is fried small fish, very tasty with eggs & tomatoes & garlic flavored rice. Now in Canada, I eat milk & cereals for breakfast (which is very bland but good for my health).
That sunds like a breakfast from when I was living at home. I think Southerners have odd breakfasts – at least according to other folk. I had just started a new job and was sitting at my desk having breakfast (after I had worked there a couple of weeks and was comfortable) of rice and a few tablespoons of barbecued pork. A woman in our unit (a lovely Phillipine woman of about 60) passed by, stopped, and came back and on knocked on my office door. She pointed at my breakfast and asked, are you Philippine? I laughed and said, Evangeline, do I look and sound Philippine? (mind you, I have a thick southern drawl). She laughed and said, isn’t that adobo and rice? I laughed and said, it is barbecued pork and rice! We discussed the ingredients and not so very different. But it was leftover from the meal before and so it became breakfast. The area of the south I am from eats a lot of rice. We became tight friends and often discussed the similarities of things we ate and how they were fixed. Most of my co-workers had cereal, eggs, sausage, oatmeal. Vangie and I had rice with whatever. Now I eat bland cereals and fruit…but on weekends, I break bad! This past weekend, I actually did have adobo and rice!
I am hungry now for rice and adobo (and its lunchtime here), smiles ~ Leftover food mixed up with rice sounds good and tasty to me, ha ~
Funny but exchanging recipes with my officemates also makes me realize that beneath our different cultures, is the same love for food ~ A little change in spice or way of cooking, but the end result may not be that different. Thanks for sharing this 🙂
It is almost lunch time here. Alas…salad for lunch! 🙂
I have got to read more by this poet-storyteller-performance artist! I wonder if I have seen her perform because her rhythm and symbols are familiar to me. And these poems would thrill some of my facebook friends. Thank you again, Grace, for the intro to poets I should know.
From what I have read, she is very comfortable with performance poetry or songs ~ Feel free to get in touch with her as she is very friendly and gracious ~ Thanks for dropping by Susan ~
Great article..thanks, Grace 🙂 I think that even poems that are not specifically telling a story, per se, are still telling a story…..if that makes any sense….and so I do think that all poets are story-tellers…..they tell the stories of what we see and feel and hear with our senses and how our emotions are captured and processed and, through their words, they also tell us the story of how other people feel and evoke emotion within us. Definitely!!
I like the way you framed it CC ~ I never thought of myself as a story teller before, but you are right, when we capture the time & place & characters, we are sharing a story to our readers ~ Thanks for dropping by ~ Happy to read that you like the article 🙂
Thanks for joining in everyone ~ I will saying goodnight and checking back tomorrow for comments ~ See you tomorrow for Poetics ~ Sleep is calling (hint) me 🙂
thank you Grace, poets are storyteller, there’s a man that I love he strengthens me
That is lovely ~ Thanks for dropping by Lisa ~
I love both of these, amazing writing, thank you for showing us Grace. I’m with CC on her comments too, all our works are stories, just shortened versions.
Thanks for dropping by, smiles ~
I’m sorry I don’t visit more often. Thank you Grace I hope you and yours are well.
I really think that society and technology have taken their toll on intimate face to face story telling. In some cultures where elders are highly respected, the tradition of verbal story telling still exists to a point. My co workers have shared with me many stories that have been passed down from their parents and grandparents of the Chippewa tribe. I have to say for me it goes beyond interest…I have actually come to believe some of their animal symbolism’s, stories of the “little people”, the spirit world, etc. Thank you, Grace for introducing pj Johnson..I’m looking forward to reading more of her work. 🙂
And yet, even in the corporate world, at conferences, in all the boring places I have to go sometimes, amidst all the jargon and buzzwords, when someone says ‘let me tell you a story…’ everyone wakes up, draws a little closer and starts to vibrate again.
Storytelling is such an essential skill – and I hope science, technology or even just indifference will never kill it off!
The best way to show how it is done or share a lesson is through a story ~ I hope storytellers persevere & prosper despite the technology ~
Thank you Grace for this amazing introduction 🙂
Arriving late to the party I find most of what I think already posted, lol… so I would just say I agree.
A heritage, whether known or subconscious, is a part of every individual. As such, I think it has to come out, one way or another, in expression of any kind, especially the artistic one. The emphasis one puts (or not) is one’s choice (and possibly the only conscious choice). And that, the way I see it, is related to how passionately one feels about it 🙂
I think without knowing it, our heritage peeks through our words ~ Happy to read that you enjoyed this post ~ thanks for dropping by ~
I too am late to the party, but I did want to thank you. This is such an interesting poet and culture. I really liked the poem “She Walks with a Certain Pride,” and the observation that so many unnoticed, invisible people lead lives of great value.
You are welcome & thanks for dropping by Mary ~
The ability to see past the first and second dimension in a literary sense is a talent that pj Johnson seems to have mastered. Stories are our heritage, more so than blood lineage. Culture, I believe is what you live, and leave for others to carry on. She is a great read, and her works should defiantly be shared and celebrated.
I agree that stories are our heritage, more so than blood lineage ~
Thanks for your visit ~