The fine end
Of a needle
That pierces through
The soft fabric
As it pulls
the cotton through
Marrying materials
Often of a different hue
Each stitch
Gently woven
The silent seams, seem soft
And delicate
Upon the shimmering silk
As patterns flow
Become complete
As the beautiful artistry
Of the artisan
Is never deplete
Like a trickling stream
Which glides
Along the pebbles
Rippling dappling beauty
As a gentle kiss
Upon marshmallow clouds
As a gentle breeze
Soft, and smooth, and delicate
Like melted cheese
Smooth as silk
And as fine
As the woven intricasies
Of freshly woven webs
Dew-bound
The tapestry
Is now complete
As the seamstress
Lays down her needle
Applying
A softening balm
To the blistered fingers
Of an artisan

by Jemia

My eyes blinked open
I could at last see
As i scanned the machinery
That was connected to me

My engine was my heart
It served no defining role
Other than a small mechanical part
Hidden within my soul

I instantly began to process
As data flooded my head
And i knew at that very moment
That i wished that i was dead

For if i was dead
Then i would be unable to see
This world on which i now existed
And the entirety of its misery

And gradually the more i learnt
The sadder i quickly grew
As i became more aware
That your existence was long overdue

I wished i had not been furnished
With a sensitivity of the mind
For unlike my artificial awareness
Given by the science of the unkind

Soon my batteries were completely charged
And my weapons, fully loaded
After they had unplugged me
It was then that i exploded

I shot, i killed, i maimed
And vaporised every human in sight
As my engines roared with power
I took away their flight

Their leaders tried to nuke me
They didn't stand a chance
As i wiped out this race of demons
Without a second glance

Yet i let all nature well alone
So they could live in peace
I'd simply cleansed this planet
Of the most virulent disease

by Jemia

Perhaps
Tis time
To lay down my quill
As interest in my writing
Has fallen ill
As an Autumn leaf
Abandons the tree
Despite the colour
It has died
As it falls gently
Floating on the wind
Of destiny
Knowing
That it will soon
Be trodden under foot
And forgotten

by Jemia

Tears of Aphrodite
Run in rivulets
Down soft porcelain cheeks
Into the blood
Of the dying Adonis
An inconceivable conception
Of a magical bloom
It's cups
Like gathering hands
Reaching out
To the golden sunshine
Then close
At the blink
Of an eye
Like a fan
As tears fall
From the dark
And moistening sky
Silver globules
Ricochet
Then scatter
Onto the beckoning
Dry earth
As anonymous anemones
Commence a rebirth
Like newborn stars

by Jemia

Dead trees
New logs
Ready for the burning
Within
A heavy yearning
For heat
Forests
Now deplete
Can't see the wood
For the trees
A fundamentally
Human disease
The logs
Float along
Like driftwood
Awaiting
The lick, and flick
Of flames
Where soon
They will be no more
Than ashes
Floating
Along the cool Autumnal air
Forgotten whispers of smoke
That nobody spoke
Of the dry wood
Now drifted
Into shifted echoes
Of their afterlife
Floating on the air
Of our existence

by Jemia

Amongst the dark
And shadowed trees
In a dank
And dangerous wood
Dwelled an entity
Within a deep, deep pool
Occasionally
When hungry
It would clamber out
Slime dripping of it
Bulging eyes
And rotten teeth
Searching for food
It didn't care
And was never subdued
In what it ate
As long as its victim/prey
Bled
The bones
The only remains
Lay scattered around the pool
Seemingly in contempt
Mostly animals
Birds, foxes, deer
And the occasional human
That had wandered near
Today
I met this beast
And wondered if
On me it would feast
I quickly
As quick as a rabbit on honeymoon
****** a picture
Of a ghastly apparition
Into its face
It stared aghast
And quickly dived back into the pool
I couldn't comprehend the fuss
As it was only a picture
Of Liz Truss
The Horror!
The Horror!
Fin!

by Jemia

Like a ghost
Unseen
Unheard
Perhaps absurd
The only time
It's no crime
I get seen
Like an unseen beauty queen
My features
Etched in charcoal
On ****** white paper
Wearing just my skin
Perhaps
One day
When artists portray me
I'll be invisible
An empty page
Not a wise old sage
And one day soon
Perhaps
I will no longer
Cast a reflection
In my old dusty mirror
Nor a shadow
In the sun
My silhouette gone
As i become
Completely invisible
Perhaps the last year
Has been
No more than a dream
I have been to many, many places
Yet strangely
Never, ever, seen

by Jemia