Rating: 
Summary: Cool.
Review: My best friend has this book and I took the chance to read most of the poems in it. Some of them really made sense and hit home, others, well, weren't so good. But no one, including Jewel, can be perfect and great all the time. So give the girl a break if you didn't like her poetry. Also I noticed that some of the reviews submitted by other readers for her book were rather prejudiced. One review remarked,"typical of high school students." I bet this person was in high school once too. (And just for the record, Jewel isn't in high school anymore.) I also noticed teenagers seemed to like the book, but adult mainly said it was horrible. The lovely generation gap makes its existance known again. Jewel wrote this book of poetry from her soul and her experiences. I do have to say, though, that I believe she should stick to acting and music though, since she is more capable in those aspects then she is in poetry. I also must say that I admire her as a guitarist, as I also play guitar and piano and realise how gifted she is as a musician.
Rating: 
Summary: This is just sad
Review: Poe, Frost, e.e. cummings, Shakespeare, Shelley, Rimbaud, Baudelaire,Dickinson,Blake,all great and familiar poetic luminaries, all lighting the stage of life with their brilliance and creativity, illuminating our minds with their eternal brain stimulating art, even influencing languages and society, changing lives and inspiring others. I think Jim Morrison could be rated up here with these monumental cornerstones of Western society. But Jewel? Jewel?! I don't think so. Her poetry has become impossible..Impossible because its actually worse than her music. Something I believed existed entirely within the imagination. Her poetry reads like something scrawled by an overwrought angst ridden teeniebopper restless with the fleeting heart flutterings of the post puberty flatulence called infatuation but mistaken as "love". Bereft of intelligence or wisdom, creativity or ingenuity this can only be rated as "bad poetry". Very, very bad poetry. Laughably dimwitted, flighty and depressingly sad poetry. Sad because the English language in all of its nuances and complexities could be abused in such a way. Its a sad, sad world and Jewel's poetry sums it all up in a neat sad little bundled collection of scratched banality. Its sad that a group of trees had to die for this. This is just...sad.
Rating: 
Summary: a reminder of how beutifull life is
Review: Sorry Jewel fans, but this book is bad. Worse than bad. A serious waste of the trees that were used to make the paper that went into this book. If you think this book is any good you need to consider the fact that you probably dropped out of community college because it was too hard, and if your father hadn't paid for your braces you wouldn't even have that waitressing job at TGIFriday's. I shutter to think of how many copies this book sold, because that number reflects only a fraction of the number of complete morons walking around today in the U.S. This book will some day be in exhibit right next to the New Kids On The Block Christmas Album in the museum of the downfall of the United States. And Jewel, if you're reading this, please do us all a favor and go back to living in that van in Alaska. The future depends on you.
Rating: 
Summary: Almost anybody could've written these.
Review: Walt Whitman, what have you wrought upon us?
The advent of free verse was like literary punk music: While a potentially liberating influence which could serve to wrest artistic expression from the elite, it also leveled the playing field to such an extent that almost anybody putting words into a "poetic" arrangement could now call his/her work "poetry".
I liked Jewel's early music a lot; I'd bought her record Pieces of You a whole year before "You Were Meant for Me" became a hit, before that song made a little neo-folk album (which had many tracks recorded live, acoustically) into a sales juggernaut. But even when I was listening to her songs, I never considered Jewel to be much of a lyricist. Her chief strengths were really melody, a simple guitar style, and her voice. Jewel's lyrics were almost always direct expressions of what she believes -- no hidden meanings, no craft, and almost never any surprising thoughts (after all, she was 20).
On her poetry, the problem burns right through. Stripped of the melodies at which she excelled, her writing is awfully sappy, worthy of high-school student scribbles. And it reads without much verbal (ie. poetic) flow. Have the layout artist put the verses and stanzas back together, and it sounds like undoctored prose. What use is the term "poetry" if it's just prose broken up? Sometimes Jewel does come up with interesting imagery, but if poetry is all image and no verbal artistry, then she should be doing photography or film work, not poetry.
Young readers with little experience reading poetry may respond to the artlessness of it and embrace the direct sentiments of this writing. But to them I would suggest: Write your own poetry, get your friends to do the same, and read one another's works. Chances are it'll be just as good as what's collected and published here. Even Jewel herself admitted that the publication of these poems was due to her fame as a musician, not her skill as a poet, and frankly, I don't think her writing comes close to being able to stand alone without her guitar and songwriting.
Rating:
Summary: Love & Loss
Review: We are the living
and the living
must love the world
~Jewel
A Night Without Armor is an intricately crafted collection of honest expression and spontaneous revelation. Jewel Kilcher is not only a singer and songwriter, she is a truly gifted poet. Her love for the poems of Shakespeare, Dylan Thomas, Rumi, Yeats and Pablo Neruda flows through her poems in a mingling of mysterious longings and vision.
I spent an entire afternoon reading "a night without armor" and Jewel's intuitive understanding of life and descriptions of loneliness in the midst of popularity left me in a state of extended contemplation about beautiful moments and the cravings of the soul.
Jewel paints unforgettable scenes in vivid imagery. In "Communion" she shows a deep understanding of intimacy and her artistic descriptions capture environments in sensual words that slip over the pages in beautiful streams of inspired imaginings.
I have cast my heart
like a purpled fruit
toward the violent earth,
far from the Heaven
of your arms
Her words will at times take you by surprise and I found myself retracing my steps to understand the unique poetic forms and deeper meanings woven within complexity. I found myself reading "Wild Horse" three times before I could turn the page. "Still Life" and "Lost" are also equally interesting in form.
"Gold Fish" was a sweet innocent and playful surprise and her witty interpretation of life in Spivey Leaks made me laugh. "You Are Not" is a revealing look at belief that sharply contrasts with action.
Many of Jewel's poems are saturated in deep heart longing and many are resting in delicate moments of peaceful childhood memories from Alaska. There is a profound poem about her brother Shane and many poems about her childhood and family life in Alaska. "The Slow Migration of Glaciers" is a love poem to Alaska and explores Jewel's longings for home.
Struggling to hold back
the dawn
open-hearted lovers
cling to the sweet fruits
of last-minute kisses
so eager
to lose themselves
in the honey-thick gravity
of love so new
Jewel's love poems are unique and she delves into dreams, experience, loss, passion, trust, betrayal, fear, disappointment, uncertainty, longing, infatuation and kisses.
These poems are alive with emotion; they capture the beauty of Jewel's soul and make the world feel a little less lonely.
~TheRebeccaReview.com
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