Penelope Scambly Schott

Biography

Penelope Scambly Schott is a retired English professor who continues to scribble. She has published a novel and several books and chapbooks of poetry. Among them are four narrative poetry sequences based on historical research. Back when she lived in central New Jersey, she wrote Penelope: The Story of the Half-Scalped Woman (1999) about an early New Jersey settler. Since moving to Oregon she has published other historical poetry. The Pest Maiden: A Story of Lobotomy (2004) starts with a distant relative who had one of the last lobotomies in the United States. A Is for Anne: Mistress Hutchinson Disturbs the Commonwealth (2007) is a biography of Puritan rebel Anne Hutchinson. It received the Oregon Book Award for Poetry. Lillie Was a Goddess, Lillie Was a Whore (2013) is a history of prostitution. More recently she has published two books about her small town in north-central Oregon, Lovesong for Dufur and On Dufur Hill. She and her dog climb Dufur hill almost daily, and on most days she can see Mounts Jefferson, Hood, Adams, Saint Helen’s, and Rainier. Penelope leads an annual poetry workshop at the historic Balch Hotel in Dufur.    

https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/40708.Penelope

Penelope: The Story of the Half-Scalped Woman--A Narrative Poem

Excerpts from her book

             The Savage Native Here About                       

                 They came with fishing nets and weapons, bow and arrows over the shoulder and a stone axe tucked at the belt.  Three tall and well formed, all young, their heads shaven, except a feather center crest.  First they see the broken boat stuck on the shallow bar, and speak among themselves, and now see us. Swift butchers. First my husband: an axe to his back. He groans once and falls.  The loose and reddening sand.  Now three upon me. Fast. Each to destroy. My belly axed open, my arm nearly off  my hair yanked back and half way cut   away from my skull, and the sea and the sky turn black and black and black and nothing at all.  Moonrise over the wrecked spar: with one arm I gather my glistening guts. and crawl toward a hollow tree, and I see one star.

       A Grandson Remembers Penelope              

              Johnny put your hand in the garment of my pocket and feel the scars of my wound; that you will know that it is true and you can tell your grandchildren that it is true, and they can tell their grandchildren that it is true   And Johnny did

                           and it was all true.