I look to my artwork
Pinned onto my walls
And scattered pages of poetry
Like Autumn leaves, upon my floor
And the memories, and sentiments
Like my heart, on my sleeve
Lies also on shelves
And an array, of my colourful attire
That i adore, and adorn
Hanging, like ghosts
As well as my footwear
Although slightly worn
I view all this with sadness
As i know that when i die
All of these myriad memories
Will be dumped into black sacks
Then discarded, and forgotten
And it will be as if
I never existed at all
by Jemia

A psithurism
Quietly susurrating
Whispering leaves
by Jemia

I bought some mint chocolates
They were called After Eight
I'm now eating some, at 2:08 in the morning
They don't specify, after what eight
(ie; after 20:00hrs!)
So i try to rotate
I breathe eight times
Or count to eight
Or how many times
I ate eight After Eights, after eight
But by eating eight After Eights, after eight, eight times
Technically, ive squared it by eight
Eight After Eights, times eight, then eat eight times that
Equates, to a lot of after eights!
I now hate
All those After Eights, i ate
And my palate is in a state
And trying not to procrastinate
As i can no longer think str8!
Ooh, is that the time?
by Jemia

I am like a soggy leaf
Flapping haphazardly
In a wet winding wind
That may occasionally
Kiss you wetly, gently
Upon your cheek
You will then
Tear me off
And cast me asunder
As i fall
Crunched, and crumbling
To the moist wet earth below
Then trodden underfoot
With only the imprint
Of your size sixes
Left embedded in my wrinkled memories.
Or would you,
Keep me, and take me home?
Forever to remember
That wet kiss, on that stormy day
With fondness, and fun
Dry me out
Then press me
Buried inside
Then under
A few volumnous
Tomes?
I would be very impressed!
by Jemia

There's a monster rising
From the depths
Of the deep blue sea
It's made of plastic
Can you see?
by Jemia

The good old days
When i was filled with Absinthe
Now i'm only filled with
Absence
by Jemia

These are the hands
That hold a pen
That help me to write
Now, and again
These are the hands
That i can count my fingers
To work out a sum
When my mind lingers
These are the hands
When joined with another
That expresses fondness
And desire for a lover
These are the hands
That i stuck in the air
When knowing the answer
To a question, so there!
These are the hands
That held my thumb on my nose
Then wriggled my fingers
For a cheeky pose!
These are the hands
That played with toys
And clapped together
To make some noise
These are the hands
That ive had all my life
That despite their beginning
I am now their wife...
These are the hands
With sensually creative fingers
That caressed my lovers
For an ****** that lingers
These are the hands
That will forever offer peace
And will occasionally help me
Eat chocolate, or cheese!
by Jemia

I slowly drift off, and fade away
From another world, to another day
Where the sun is purple
And the sand is blue
Where the sea is yellow
And life is of a different hue
Where trees have voices
Of a variety of different dialects
A violet apple whispers in my ear
Indigo pears, sing surreal songs of sweet seduction
Accompanied by a curious choir of cherry blossoms
As this strange tapestry of a world, swallows my mind
Orange rain, falls from crimson red clouds
A black backward flying butterfly, flutters bye
Landing slowly, on a floating carpet of florescent flowers
Wings, pulsating like a gentle heartbeat
I glance to my now, ebony white translucent hands
As they slowly turn to a multi-colour dust
As i become a part of this colourful collage
A sublime surreal destiny swallows me up
Like a succulent peach,
i am no more, than nectar
by Jemia

Mew-Sings Of A Philosophical Cat
I purr
Their fur
I Siam
(Day Cat Art)
by Jemia

Living with people
You at first, get along with
You all love the same colour
Yellow
And you all have many tales to tell
Of personal experiences
With yellow
Be it paint
Pencils
Clothes
Lemons
Melons
Bananas
...............Submar­ines!
All seems mellow, with yellow
At first
After a while-the honeymoon period
Gone is the smile
You start noticing
How some of the others
In this yellow group
Prefer a paler
Or more profound
Different shade
Some even prefer their bananas
Green!
Or ripe brown
Then you start to realise
That you no longer share the same values
And apart from yellow
You had nothing else in common
At all
And start to see
Red!
by Jemia

Last night, sadly
A close companion of mine
Became a companion no more
As they first leaked, on my chair
Then on the floor
Now, no longer
Shall we snuggle up in bed
Now my companion, is sadly dead
So i was wondering
If any of my friends here
Would like to take my ex companions place
Someone warm, to snuggle up with
That wont leak
And available
Seven days per week
Someone to have
And someone to hold
Someone that is never, never, never cold
And a similar size
As my last hot water bottle
Not to fussed, what colour you are
Green, purple pink....
Any offers?

Ccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccco.....

As i lie, in my makeshift marmalade bed
Awaiting dreams, to enter my head
Suddenly, i'm all afloat
Upon a dreamy waxen, candle-lit boat
Then from the depths, of a deep blue sea
A curious creature, glides slowly to me
As it approaches, i'm soon to espy
As i float upwards, to a purple sky
I look below me, to a tormented troubled sea
Strangely, and surprisingly, i see another me
Yet within an eye-blink, i land on a soft sapphire sand
As a  sandstorm passes, i withstand
On the horizon, a faint figure approaches
I hear their voice in my head, as it encroaches
As she draws close, she hands me a gift
Of magical enchantment, to close this rift
I blink my eyes, and i'm somewhere new
As all around me, has now turned blue
An alien speaks to me, with a far-off voice
Invites me to join them, it's my choice
So i follow these benign beings, to another world
Where a tall wooden house, becomes unfurled
With a blink of an eye, and the flap of a wing
I'm on a marshmallow bed, that is able to sing
It sings me a lullaby, as i happily weep
And before i know it, i'm fast asleep

Seems like
Christmas, for some
Is simply to die for!

maybe because it's English,
or don't have religious belief
or transgender
a recent comment received

or maybe my poetry is *******
and perhaps i should write no more
but i did kind of hope for more response
is my writing really that poor?

i probably don't want the answers
the pain would be to much
and it's now gone three in the morning
and i'll start speaking double Dutch

but the truth to tell, i'm bored with life
and came hear for a lift
and thought i'd share my writings
not causing any rift

perhaps it's time to bid farewell
and return to my far of world
seek out new adventures
to see what will maybe unfurl

or sit alone in my ramshackle flat
and reflect on better days
where once there was happiness in my life
whereas now there is just malaise

so fair ye well you kindred folk
i may soon bid you all adieu
and rest on my laurels, and derriere
and find a peace, now long overdue
bye Jemia

On A Whim
I heard a Flimsy Whimsy
On a Winters day
Shouting whoopsy daisy
Then it ran away!

It ran into the garden
It ran into a toad
Then it finally croaked it
When it ran into the road!

So now the Flimsy Whimsy
Has had its final hour
So ive put it in my notebook
Just like a fresh pressed flower!
by Jemia

When it comes to Covid
I'm hoping for no Christmas presence

Naked Cherry Blossoms
Are far more ****
When clothed
A bit like me really!
by Jemia

I have a street sign for Carnaby Street
Hanging high, upon my wall
Me, and a close friend, used to go there
And to Portebello Road, and all

We'd jump onto the tube, every weekend
Not a ticket did we buy
Dodging the ticket collector, with derring-do
Up destinations fire escapes, we would fly

Our road map of central London
We eventually carried in our head
Having knowledge of the main attractions
Like Highgate Cemetery, where lay the famous dead

We visited museums, and Buck' Pal of course
And Downing Street, and Big Ben
Crossed most bridges over the Thames as well
Battersea Power Station, and the Dogs Home den

Witnessed changing of the guard
Visited the Art Galleries of the day
Listened in at Speakers Corner, Hyde Park
And sneaked in at Regents park zoo, by the way

Went down Baker Street, to see Sherlock
And Madam Taussauds, full of wax, and flair
How we never got caught sneaking in, i'll never know
I think London wanted us there

We also saw the drunks, and homeless
All scattered in disarray
There was something about their life
That i knew i would experience one day

I kind of knew i'd become a squatter
Before i would become a woman
i needed to have more life experience
Before confronting that truth

My friends name, was Irish Bill, he was a wild child like me
He introduced me to his girlfriends mother
I was fifteen, she was thirty six, i was a ******
she plied me with Dutch courage, we then had a bit of the other!
by Jemia

poison is poison
no amount of sugar
will prevent it
from killing you
bitter sweet

comment on my poems are generally friendly
unless of course, they are not
the latest, and nastiest
worse than the rest of the lot
was on here today
i am upset, not much more to say
"Matthew Thompson  What's the population like in Blondeville? Do they have a lot of newly formed voids to fill? My second question is, do you instinctively know to hit someone with your purse, or is that a personality trait specifically for from birthers? I just wonder, because I assumed there was some form of psychological test given before you could change genders. Like your therapist tries to **** you and sees if you stab him with your high-heels or attack with your large shoulder-bag."
the poem ironically perhaps, is called "can't tell write, from wrong"
and with regards to this site, may become my swan song
but until his comment, it had been well received
now it's something, i feel only grieve
parting, in such unsweetened sorrow
Jemia

that moment you realise
that epiphany
that slaps reality
around your face
that you are not the poet
you had hoped to be
and that
perhaps it is time
to lay down your quill
and put away your ink
and disappear
into the ether
my heart
bleeds dry
as my dust vaporises
and floats into a void
jemia x

The unseen life lay, within a wooden tomb
Were now to be awoken from their slumbers
And were soon to become aware
Of the outside world they were to encounter

They soon sensed the lurking danger
An eerie atmosphere hung low
Now was to be the time
For these normally unseen, to be seen again

They had existed, way back in darker times
And had aged, and were mostly forgotten
Now was their time to rule supreme
As they readied themselves for battle

They moved slowly, and deliberately
Trudging through the soft, and pliant ground
Some on all fours, some stood *****
Others gliding on mighty pliant wings

They thought they were ready for any weaponry fired upon them
Knowing of course, they would suffer casualties
The fallen heroes, knowing that they would somehow return
But the course of things, were soon to change

A young boy suddenly appeared before them
In his hand, he held a strange wooden box
Which he slowly raised, high towards his mouth
Then, with the breath of a hundred hurricanes, blew!

A curious thing happened, the box was a secret weapon
There was an inner box, which flew out with devastating force
In the process, slaying all armies before him
Their last vision, was a name engraved on the weapon Bryant & May!
by Jemia 19-11-2020

Oh wonderful beautiful sprout
So great when you're in
And great when you're out
Like a small green whirling planet
Occupied by little loving leaf people
In an infinite magnificent cuddle
I wish i could hug as profoundly as a sprout
And wish there was more of it about
Oh wondrous sprout
I love you when you're in
And delighted when you're out
This earth, this realm, this sprout
You are like another world
Oh Cosmic sprout of mine
Let us fly, as i undress your emerald gorgeousness
To taste your majestic flesh.......
by Jemia

On my way to the Red Post Box today, i was caught in a sudden heavy rainfall, also the wind suddenly picked up, and within seconds, there were wet autumnal, sodden yellows, reds, and brown, rusting, and rustic leaves flapping around, one of which, slapped me around my cheek!
I carried on walking, my only concern, was to make sure i posted the small bundle of envelopes i had clutched in my hand, and that actually, i quite enjoyed the rain, i found it's honesty, refreshing. The envelopes only suffered mild moistening, where some droplets had run of my hands. I posted the letters into the welcoming mouth of the Red Post Box. I  was about to turn around, and make my way home, when the Red Post Box spoke to me! "I hear that you mention me on your FB posts quite often, and also in your short stories and poetry, like i'm some kind of inanimate object, but refreshed that you don't say anything negative about me, i still feel taken for granted!" L looked the Red Post Box, straight in the mouth (it obviously had no eyes!) I was about to say something, but then remembered the other day when i'd been chatting with a Daisy, and after, a slightly psychotic Mole, and that some neighbours had witnessed this, and given me a "LOOK!" So i quietly whispered to the Red Post Box "I'll write to you" and left

.....Was at the school, picking up my daughter, and a friend of hers. They were both now 5 years old. All went well, and we had plenty of time before parents evening started. It was a nice day, so we stopped off at the park, telling them they had half an hour, as i still had to feed them. Half an hour, became 45 minutes, so we left the park, and headed home, and decided to just give them sandwiches instead. funny how quickly time can go, especially when you have to be somewhere....anyway, they were eating their sandwiches, and i left the kitchen, and popped into the living room, and then things suddenly turned really surreal. The atmosphere, and reality changed, it was like those brief minutes during a total eclipse where time seems to stand still, and nature seems to freeze. Then the girls shouted out, in a tone of amazement, rather than fear "times going backwards!" i ran into the kitchen, and saw the kitchen clock literally going backwards, like something from a sci-fi film. The last things i remember, was the girls screaming, and the hands of the clock, gaining momentum, as we started to lift off the floor, and thinking, ****, this is it...then i woke up

The Dragon viewed her, through deep scarlet eyes. It knew instinctively, she was not after the treasure, so was unsure of her quest. She carried no obvious weapons, nor could he sense any magic from her, so was puzzled why she was risking her life, by entering his cave, for surely she would be aware of his ferocity, and that no-one had ever left his cave alive. he slowly, deliberately, and menacingly, moved around her, examining her features. She was well dressed, clothed in a crimson red velvet, and her lips were of a blood red colour, highlighted by her pale face. He then looked into her eyes. They were a magnificent jaded green, and this colour seemed to swirl around in a cloud, like a brewing storm. The dragon stood, transfixed. Then she spoke, her words were smooth as silk, and her voice was soft and eloquent, " I know your story Dragon, i know your past, and i know of your rage, at the betrayals you suffered, a long, long time ago, now lost in time, and as you have not been seen for hundreds of years, you have become part of mythology. But your rage remains, towards those you once trusted, and that this still eats away at your heart" The Dragon stood frozen to the spot, like a statue. He could not move, he remained transfixed, almost hypnotised, by the swirling jade eyes. The girl began to speak again..."I am here to take away your pain. The world outside, has aged, is now old, and embittered, cruel, and brutal, and i have no desire to be any part of it, for it is being ruined, they are destroying the planet, and themselves. their souls are lost, they are empty inside. They are divorced, from love, and passion, and they not only betray one another, they also betray themselves!" And with this, her eyes turned grey, as a rising tide of sadness overcame her, as silver globuled tears, gently rolled down her cheeks. With that, the Dragon sighed deeply, for he knew, that what this girl had just said, was truth. He bowed down before her, and was about to speak. But at that moment, a very powerful bomb hit the mountain above the cave. both the girl, and the Dragon, were turned to dust.
by Jemia

On my walk to the red post box today
A daisy, was sticking up, in a most unusual way
I went to take a closer look, a bit amazed
To see one in November, and in such cold days
When much to my surprise, it spoke to me
When i say spoke, it shouted loudly
"Don't you dare pick me up, i know your sort!"
"You'll turn me into a chain, or something of that sort!"
I was much taken aback, at being shouted at by a flower
Funny time to be daydreaming, at this particular hour
But felt a little guilty, as for a small lark
Last Spring, i'd made some Daisy chains in a park
I also wondered, that a daisy can talk
Maybe it could read my mind, as i walk
So as a way to give it some reassurance
And to let it know, there's no need for life insurance
I said "how can anyone make a chain, with only one Daisy?"
The Daisy pondered this, and looked a bit hazy
At this point, a neighbour walked past
Upon seeing me talk to a verge, a strange look was cast
With a certain amount of panic, and distress
I said "Prince Charles talks to flowers!" to try and readdress
She looked at me again, and increased her pace
At which point the Daisy laughed, at the look on her face
I joined in too, as i could see the funny side to all this
Unfortunately, another neighbour saw me, and all went amiss
This neighbour, gave me an even stranger look
At me, laughing gleefully, like an insane Rook
I made it worse, when i told her i was laughing with a Daisy
She began running, as she obviously thought me crazy
Meanwhile, the Daisy in hysterics, laughed off her petals with glee
I felt embarrassed, and knew the neighbours, would be avoiding me
All of a sudden, the Daisy, shot out of the ground
Up popped a mole, from beneath his mound
The mole spoke these very words
"That got the ******!" i thought how absurd
The mole promptly went back down his hole
The Daisy lay dead, without a soul
So i wandered off back, to my humble home, and clutter
Saddened at the Daisy's demise, now left lying in a gutter
And wondered how could it really be
that a flower, and a mole, had spoken to me

Today, i looked at a wall
And saw a face, i didn't recognise at all
It returned my gaze, and said this one thing
If you have an ******, try not to sing!

This puzzled me, to the furthest extreme
As if i had an ******, i'd more likely scream
But my memory of such things, were in the distant past
And a scream might sound like singing, but very very fast

So i checked my old diaries, and that kind of thing
And found a comment, "remember not to sing!"
It was in my own writing, i was much perplexed
As i don't remember being, quite so oversexed

So i contacted ex girlfriends, and a one night stand
One of them had moved, to a far off land
I asked if they'd moved there out of choice
She replied no, it was because of my voice!

I screamed, and cried, and lamented, was my voice oh so bad?
She told me it was more to do, with the fact i was mad
It would of been okay, if i'd sung ballads, and similar things
But i screamed like a Banjee, as if strangled by strings

I thanked her profusely, and apologised too
And considered on whether, i should be caged in a zoo
But as i was single, and likely to stay this way
I told the face on the wall, to simply go away

The face on the wall ignored me, for quite a while
Then opened it's eyes, and began to smile
You silly woman, you're talking to yourself
I am just a mirror, hanging on your shelf!
by Jemia

Butterflies, flutter by
Uttering a sweet delicate silence
Teasing, and tantalising
Tempting tranquility
Euphoric, and enchanting
Rolling over an undulating landscape
Flying high, without a sigh
Lifting gentle wings
Yearning, sweet succulent nectar

So now, we're under lockdown again
Choice of virus, or going insane
Talk to myself, as no-one else left
Of human physical contact, i'm now bereft

I speak to people, on Microsoft, and Zoom
aAs they wander like ghosts, into my room
So not entirely isolated, As you see
But nobody to chat with, over a nice cup of tea

I'm like a grain of sand, on an empty beach
Floating in a universe, not able to reach
And the only people, iv'e seen around
Are these masked aliens, headed for town

And in their eyes, behind their face
The look of fear, and sadness, in an empty place
It's like living, in an obscure surreal dream
As nothing is any longer, quite what it seems

As the silence returns, we all turn mute
And there's not much around, other than political dispute
I await, for this ****** virus to end
So we'll eventually meet up, with much beloved friends

Clair De Lune
Light of the Moon
Under which lies,a place of magical enchantment
As the land of Fae, dance, and play

Wolves howl, as creatures of the night prowl
Treading softly, as a strange tranquility
And alluring essence
Captures this curious beauty

The mind drifts off, as oft it drifts
To a far flung world
As the gentle effervescent glow of the moon
Leaves a strange secret sparkle, hidden within the eyes

Thoughts transcend, never end
That ripple, through curious imaginings
As a different world unfurls
where girls will be boys, and boys will be girls

As moths madly pirouette, in this deepening glow
Lost in a frantic madness
As the immitation of the moonlight
Of lanterns, offer a ghostly attraction

Sweet sister moon, you agitate the mind
And move everything on your twin
Yet offer, and proffer, a strange tranquility
Ive loved you since my birth
by Jemia

we;re soon to get a big blue moon
so about to escape my comfort cocoon
I'll flap my wings, as high as the sky
but scared of heights, so don't know why
then fly all the way, to the big blue moon
as i need to escape from my little cocoon
so if you see my wings, flapping around
i must of made it back, to solid ground
or ive over done it on the nectar again
and simply lying, ****** in the rain!
by Jemia x

The hollow Scream
I have become, my own ghost
Like a spectre, i haunt myself
Constantly
There is no exorcism
Of my memories
They are fixed
And will live on
After ive departed my physical form
Moved on
As my carcass
Rots in it's wormy grave
Consumed
My thoughts, meanwhile
Will still be floating
In the breezes
Screaming
At my lost existence
My failed existence
Pointless
This will be my final torture
That i will never escape
The torture
Of a tortured soul
Nore the cruelties, of humanity
I shall a victim
For all eternity
Hear my sCREAM!!!
by Jemia

I am a bit puzzled,
Kerfuffled,
And confused
As i don't understand
Why
My feet
Are called feet
When they are only
Nine inches long
And ive always been
A size eight
Puzzling in itself
As feet normally
Grow larger with age
Yet now
I'm a size seven
And that pussyfooting
Has nothing to do
With either
Cats
Nor feet?
by Jemia

(***, Drugs, and Rock, & Roll!)
From Royalty, to Rock Stars, To A World Champion, To One of The Goons, To A Potential Future Prime Minister!
Ive already mentioned my encounter with Spike Milligan in Rye, East Sussex, well about 20 years later, whilst living in North Wales,  his grand daughter, 'inadvertently', broke my daughters' arm, with an umbrella! and that my ex wife, was a very distant cousin (x 3-4 times removed..) of ELVIS (Costello), and i used to score my **** of Elton Johns. half brother (don't know what happened to the other half!), and that i once gave my autograph to a former world champion snooker player Alex 'Hurricane' Higgins, and that one of Princess Di's cousins tried to 'bed' me, yes he wanted *** (i declined, as i was still male back then, and still relatively not gay, or drunk! (i like a drink, maybe two at the most, three i'm under the table, four i'm under the host!)), but he had a lovely house, and loads of pics of him with Di in their childhood. and how on my 50th birthday, Paul McCartney, and his then wife, Heather, saved my mother life, and he asked my daughter if the birthday cake was for her, he can't of looked at it properly, as it clearly had "happy 50th birthday" on it (she was about 7 at the time, and lastly, how i nearly 'copped' off with a future potential Prime Minister! the weird thing is, is that all this really happened in my surreal existence....😏🙂🦋💕🙄 by Jemia

I wonder if butterflies
  have nobbly knees
As they sail along
  in a wobbly breeze
With nobbly knees
  they could do as they please
As they sail along
  in a wobbly breeze.....
by Jemia

It's now gone four in the morning
The dreams will offer no warning
Ghosts from the distant past
The clouds in my head, shall remain overcast
My visions only proffer things bleak
Seemingly seconds, have become a week
Time now accelerating, to the speed of light
As night becomes day, and day becomes twilight
How quickly time vanishes, whilst i lay on my bed
At the blink of an eye, i'll one day soon, wake up dead
As with horror, i'll find ive aged twenty years
And they'll be no-one at my funeral, to shed any tears
As all my writings, will be casually cast aside, and into the abyss
As i join it, a nightmare of a life, gone all amiss
by Jemia

As i quietly chew my way around
Munching down to the earthy ground
As nature kindly provides my hungry mouth
The rain moistens the sun from the south
That refreshes my sun dried flesh
And helps grow my inner mesh
And those moments of stark terror
Thankfully dropped, by a beak in error
Inadvertently giving me my first flight
Thankfully landing on tender grass so light
I then became reclusive, and cocooned
Hung from flowers, and festooned
Awaiting my moment to escape my past
Till i would gnaw through, and fly at last
Evolving, with my colourful wings, on a soft zephyr
My eyes open, and my heart on fire
My previous being, now long gone
As i have now righted, an accidental wrong
by Jemia

Another ****** day in lockdown, and isolation
Another of visual, but non physical hosts
Nice people, floating around the ether
Like spectres, or very creative ghosts

I await these omnipresent visitors
As they appear on screen, in my room
Permanently reflecting, on my own reflection
Every time, i go onto zoom

So not only do i talk to the others
As my laptop lies upon a shelf
I find i'm having conversations
Whilst looking at myself

Although i do enjoy these zoom days
Doing poetry, art, and other stuff
But looking at myself for a two hour stint
Is really, much more, than enough!
by Jemia

Not If, But When
I still have to pinch myself, throughout this strife
Ive experienced, many unusual events, in my life
But quite as surreal, as this sharpened knife

Seen many documentaries about pandemics, over the years
But it's hard to fully comprehend, all the fears
How strange, and scary they really are, as xmas nears

Most of these programmes, declared at their end
"Not if, but when", although "When" is now, my friend
Pinch myself. "oW!" hope it comes to an end

The year is nearly over, and we'll soon enter 2021
And hopefully soon, we can again have some fun
As Spring brings new life, and a nice warming sun
(And that "Not if, but when, will hold a positive interpretation)
by Jemia

As i awaken to the sweet sound of your voice
Early morning dew, hangs lazily from freshly woven webs
You lift my beating heart, as easily as beautiful birdsong
Gently serenading my soul,as my eyes greet the dawn light
I behold azure clouds, lightened by the morning sun
A soft zephyr, breezes through an open window
Caressing my warming, rested flesh
As your eyes radiate, a pure and magical true love
Which enchants, my beating heart
My love for you, knows no end
Is as infinite, and eternal as time
And the rising, and setting, of a glowing golden sun
by Jemia

ive tried catching time
8:30 in the morning
ive come close
several times 8:29...8:31
a few occasions
ive missed 8:30 literally by a few seconds
but still, somehow
he eludes me
and slips through my fingers
oft believing, i will never catch him
i think some times
are just impossible to catch
9:37pm i find equally as elusive
and difficult
and sometimes is a master of disguise
as sometimes uses the pseudonym
of 21:37
and on other occasions
tricks me
by being in different places
at different times
and by the time i get there
time has moved on
it's a funny thing
that as i get older
time seems to speed up
if i could only slow it down
i did once
make time stand still, but replaced it's battery
and by that time
i'd lost track of what the real time was
so now, i just let time
pass me by
is that the time?
must fly......
bye bye Jemia

It drips, it drops, it plops
It spits, and spatters, and splatters
It soaks, it drenches, it drowns
It runs, it flows, it floods, it matters

People, and fish, swim in it
People, and boats, float on it
People, and clothes, wash in it
People drink it, or die without it

Water freezes, and turns to ice
Water heated, turns to steam
Without water, there would be no life
Imagine, no Earl Grey tea, i despair!
by Jemia

Watched a romantic comedy last night
Wanted to watch something cheerful, and light
But reminded me ive been alone for over four years
Unlikely to change, which reduced me to tears

Iv'e always been romantic, and sensitive too
My hearts on my sleeve, and my heads all askew
Always been a dreamer, yet hold out little hope
My future looks to remain, on a downward *****

I look to the stars, in a far off sky
Knowing they are echoes, from the time they did die
My heart beats a sadness, how quickly time flies
As the tears begin again, to well in my eyes

It's late, i'm tired, and i need some sleep
But fearful of the nightmares, of fears that run deep
I'm weary, and wary, of this twilight zone
Ironic, that in my dreams, i'm never alone....
by Jemia

it appears that things, aren't always as they seem
when viewed by those, who are on the extreme
personally, i much prefer, to be sat in the middle
so i can view both, Rome burn, and Nero on the fiddle
be it religion, or politics, or other things that make little sense
i find it much easier to see both sides, when sat on the fence
but for the comfort, of my derriere
i do wish instead, that i'd sat on a chair
having been a watcher of things, for many years
the amount of animosity, sometimes leaves me in tears
especially those things, that aren't as pleasant as they seem
have buried my hopes, of a Utopean dream
i have no issue, if you're black, white, purple, or grey
straight, lesbian, pan, bi, or gay
just love all things living, no matter how diverse
we are probably unique, in the entirety of this universe
the beauty of our nature, could put us all at ease
the only thing missing, is total world peace
by Jemia

i'm very creative, i am, i am
i'm very creative, i am
i'm as creative, as a puppy in a pram
if you don't believe me, just ask Pam!
by Jemia

The veins of the sprout
stretching out
exploring its own universe
like a small planet
indulging in its own leafy world
as it unveils its inner soul
hidden behind a hundred emerald jackets
it has no vision
just a sense of its own being
and connectivity, to its family
connected to their stalk of life
it feels it has no purpose
yet senses, in some way
it is here for a purpose
then one day
it is cut, from its source of life
then thrown
into a pan of boiling water
screaming at its own end
yet vaguely aware
that it is about to be consumed
and that some of the consumers
don't even like it
and wonders then
at the futility of its existence

one day
i would love
to write a poem
so exquisitely beautiful
that the reader
would have multiple *******
as the words
tantalised their soul
giving them such
unbearable pleasure
they would scream with delight
by Jemia

Scared To Death
Through the possessed and darkening wood
By the stream of tormented screams
An equine ogress of the night there stood
Just waiting to enter your dreams
As blood red eyes of an incubus glared
Malevolently malefic demons hiss and curse
Whilst the victims of the night grow increasingly scared
As their nightmarish visions grow worse
One moment the victim is buried alive
Scratching from their coffins within
Or waiting for an unseen monster to arrive
Or running fearfully from a demonic grin
A terror, a fear, of what's behind
"I wonder what's under the bed?"
And now it's so dark, you'll think you've gone blind
As you're strangled by what's in your head
As you wake with a fright, in the dead of the night
And you cringe at the shadows you see
You then tremble with fear, as the evil draws near
Encountering something you know cannot be
You now scream from your soul, at a terror now whole
As the fumbling dead reach out from the grave
A possessed girls doll, asks you out for a stroll
So to madness you are now made a slave
But the pain wasn't right, you should be numb in the night
As you pinched yourself to extreme
You then died with fright, in the mad moonlight
As surely pain can never be in a dream
by Jemia