In Burien there are many remarkable, talented people. Burien.News wants to highlight artists, poets, authors, inventors, and others with creative giftings. We believe they are “Bright Gems” in our community.
One of these “Bright Gems” is Ben Curtis, a Burien citizen gifted in poetry writing. He has written hundreds of poems; we will share several of them in this article.
Ben began writing poetry in his teens. He had teachers at Kelso High School and professors during his years at Whitworth College who helped him develop his gift. While studying in college, he found he liked modern poetry the best; a couple of his favorite poets over the years have been James Wright, John Berryman, and Wilfred Owen. “When I was younger, I had a particular affinity for the Beat Poets,” said Ben.
Ben majored in Creative Writing at Whitworth College and graduated. He moved to Seattle in 2004 and eventually to Burien in 2018. On his career path, Ben worked 17 years for a non-profit organization that helped the homeless. He now spends time with Joseph Riverson and his team to reach out to the Burien homeless population.
Ben says he is inspired by everyday events, writing poems freely and spontanteously about his life experiences. He grew up in a family of faith, and his parents encouraged him to do well in school and get a college degree. Today, Ben is involved in Hope Church’s community ministries for the homeless and also helps lead a support group for recovering alcoholics. He is married to wife Flo, whom he met on “e-Harmony” several years ago. Together they are serving as foster parents through the Olive Crest agency.
Ben is presently working on writing a book. He also thinks he would enjoy teaching poetry writing to some home-school students or gathering together a group of adults who would enjoy participating in a poetry-writing workshop/class. We hope he can do this soon!
Here are a few of Ben’s poetry pieces to enjoy:
Three Plums
It’s all I’ve eaten so far today.
The current hunger pangs belie
The satisfaction that those few stone fruit gave,
Juice squirting onto the dish rack as
I ate them over my sink,
The sweet liquid running down my face
When I bit into the tasty, orange flesh.
I think about how that handful of sustenance
Could have fed my wife’s family in the not-so-distant past.
Her grandfather sold towels to passersby on the packed streets of Pagasa.
If he sold one, it was vegetables with rice; if he sold two, Hallelu!
Some protein was on the way.
It took faith to believe he would sell at least one towel a day.
Daily bread, always just enough.
I marvel at faith like that as I come back to reality and wipe
Nectar from my chin.
For a plum tree to produce more fruit it must be trimmed back every fall.
In the same way for my faith to increase,
And so I can bear more fruit,
I must be pruned.
Friend of Bill
I’m a friend of Bill,
I just don’t know which one
Is going to show up each day, if at all.
I guess that’s what it’s like being schizophrenic.
Today he says he feels sick,
No sir, that’s called being an alcoholic.
It won’t help, me being sarcastic,
But I can’t stand another friend becoming a statistic.
Brandy is too young to recall the war in Vietnam,
But if she doesn’t get a new pair of shoes
She’s gonna know trench foot, first hand.
God, this is an odd prayer request,
I’m pleading for dry feet and my friend
To just dry out.
Maybe it could stop raining.
Now you’re getting warm,
Yeah, let’s just go ahead
And rebuke the whole storm.
Rumination on Naloxone
It’s the first day of autumn
And I’m reminded of the fall.
At the needle exchange
The brokenness is palpable.
I’m led by the Spirit
Into the wilderness.
Downtown, there’s lots of folks,
Eating, drinking, shopping;
Addiction affects all
Parts of the spectrum.
I say a prayer for more workers.
I went to the needle exchange
To get a Narcan kit.
If someone is ODing,
It will bring them back from the dead.
From what I’ve seen though,
True resurrection power
Goes beyond the physical.
