On the radio
Earlier today
They mentioned
Or so they say
About a fifteenth century Carol
Now long gone bye
That's still around
And would not die
I thought "Oh wow"
(Be i so bold?)
"She's really old!"

by Jemia

My poor poor rabbit
It is no more
With its soft floppy ears
And deep blue one eye
Shall no longer
Hop around the hutch
I'll miss
Miss Floppy Fun Bun
And how
You brought a twinkle
To my eyes
I don't know
Where to inter her
As i don't have room
In my special garden
Which is a bit bushy
I wonder if she's
Recyclable?

by Jemia

The media
Are stirring the ***
Of peoples frustrations
Like vultures
Readying themselves
To tear of the flesh
Of the vulnerable
In an already
Dysfunctional
Damaged
World
They play the free speech card
Like jokers
In the pack
Like wolves
Baiting us
Yet we have already
Become
The worm
On the hook
Wriggling hopelessly
And here's the rub
We are also the fish
Biting
Part of the medias
Food chain of despair
As we watch on
Living
In our goldfish bowl
Of lock down
Awaiting our small
Crumbs of hope

by Jemia

Today
I was awoken
Not by
The sounds
Of silence
But by the sounds
Of sirens
And seagulls
Like a screaming choir
In a frantic
Chaotic
Harmony

by Jemia

Sometimes
I doth not know
My derriere
From my elbow
Hardly, forsooth
A funny bone
Doth ache so
Remains
A lesser beast
With such sciatic
Derriere pains
Oh!

by Jemia

A Silence

I sensed before
Making my calls today
That they
Would have their own
Destiny of sadness
And disarray
One taken to hospital
This morning
Not without warning
And the next
And last call
Her husband had died (06-12-2021)
And had his funeral
Only yesterday (20-12-2021)
We talked for quite a while
And i think i made her smile
As we jested
At our mutual dislike
Of technology, and the like
A few other calls beforehand
That usually answered
Lay in an uneasy silence
Of forbidden Foreboding
During debrief, later
It was said
It's that time of year
Asked if i was okay
I said i think so
I'd had my own echoes
Of silent tears
Over many lonely long lost years

by Jemia

Averse

If i write
A bad poem
I don't throw it
All away
As all it was
Is the birth
Of a good idea
That went into
Disarray

by Jemia