Journey to Art

They say she was born with it,
as colours fit on the boards.
The practice of many years,
hiding tears, with no rewards.

So many leave empty quills,
to pay the bills - forget art.
And those brave few who remain
face disdain, ’til they depart.

Brushes and pens leave their tracks
chalk and wax, subtle effects.
All these skills need to be learned,
talent earned, still with defects.

Picture that hangs on the wall,
she gave her all to create.
Glory at last she can claim,
speak her name in art’s debate.

Behind each success hides years,
endless fears, no peace of mind.
Her legacy is her art,
from the heart, she left behind.


Quote: Every artist was first an amateur

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Iambic Feet

The rhyme is in iambic feet,
It’s left my pen alone in defeat.
As words that come and go today
I’m practising to write this way
Then write some more to ease my pain
Then edit it and write again
The guys I read from long ago
The pulse of words, some fast, some slow,
Thus poems flow with rhythmic beat
With rhymes that form iambic feet


I sit with pen in hand, but have no ink
No time or space to dream as pictures sink
Beyond the art my eyes no longer see
As words entwine in random form for me
Arrange in lines to build a structured verse
Poetic joys I often find a curse
But words like rivers have to ebb and flow
And dance in thoughts and dreams with cosmic glow
A new art form to learn as I turn grey
The Painting Poet’s here to write her way.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Spell Casting

I long to cast magic’s spell,
know thee well in autumn’s night.
A wish just for thee, my heart,
Cupid’s dart in love’s true light.

A cauldron of potions stew,
witch’s brew, reveal to thee,
and hold my love in thy sight,
Samhain light, for thee and me.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Spark the Flames

Each lesson learned is one small spark
that sets the mark of our flame,
Now our knowledge we should share,
with no care for love or fame.

Skills that die with their master
are forever lost to all,
one passed to another’s hand
to be candid, will remain.

Let your fire of wisdom shine
as those in line want to learn
and your light will always glow
above, below, the flames burn.

Quote Prompt: If you have knowledge, let others light their candle in it. (Margaret Fuller)

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Shades of Autumn

As autumn brings vibrant shades
the sun fades towards year’s end.
Trees of green now golden red,
their leaves shed and colours blend.

Nature’s brightest palette forms
in wind and storms over land,
inspired art in paint and ink
as minds think with fall at hand.

Bonfires and feasting begin,
err snowflakes spin the world white.
The end of one leads to new,
in winter’s view, land so bright.

We watch in awe and wonder,
hear the thunder, lightning bolt.
Yet feel delight of seasons
year’s reasons do not revolt.


Definition of err

Verb: to wander from a direct course at random

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Kick back with a scotch bonnet

Endless hassle,
a gavel pounds against my brain.
Computers are whining, printers are drumming
the boss must have a hole in his head.
Back stabbing remarks heard behind doors,
just once let me get even.
He wants my ass, I know how to play,
so maybe today I should.
Let him think he’s got lucky, a grin that seduces
until he is eating out of my hand.
Bondage the game, with him in chains
wearing a Scotch bonnet on his wee head
as I kick back and relax
watching him sweat.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Leave My Desk Alone, Guys

Anger written all over my face,
I’m sat behind my desk.
nothing left in the correct place
it is getting grotesque.

My pens and pencils are missing,
unread letters in the ‘out’,
I can feel my rage now hissing
but still I do not shout.

Then I saw my precious easel
lying there on the floor
like an over used, worn plimsol
my nerves can take no more.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Death Before Dying

As years swept past, old age arrived,
the grey replaced his jet-black hair.
His eyes of blue need lens to see
An aid in ear is placed with care.
The fatigue of time has no relief
the once vibrant mind is dull.
A stick of ebony helps him walk
the physical grief has taken its toll.
Why can’t he remember me?
He sees me and sees my mother.
his wife who passed so long ago,
each visit is slowly killing me
I want my dad, not his shadow.
I grieve for man he once was
as he knows nothing of me.
In his memory, he is still young,
a soldier fresh from war,
my mother by his side in white,
he’s lost to memory now
as he slips further she holds him closer
his bride wants him with her to stay.


© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

A Hint of Mairi (First Draft)

I meet the youth of school girl ways

And weep the aging tear. 

The city lights and rushing days

 In white and amber gear,

the civic walls by Itchen shore

the freight awaiting ship

as smoke from liners’ funnels pour

from mental journals slip

When does this time, denim the guise,

reveal  a wizened crone

who saw the docks  in grief demise

recession’s cost the drone.

Where is the girl in St Anne’s blue

adorned as ashened tree

I bid farewell to things I knew

No tears it’s time to be

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Truth

Truth is purity.
Truth feels like a soft downy feather.
Truth smells of citric fruit on a warm day.
Truth looks like a baby.

Truth sounds like a breeze in the trees.
Truth tastes like polo mints.
Truth is the mother of trust.
Truth keeps the heart clean.

Truth sleeps with the angels.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Peaceful Poverty

Walking the streets of this city at night
Cast your eyes to the reality, the plight.
In dark corners, sleeping under boxes,
Lies and old man living wild like foxes.

Trapped in the terrifying honesty
Just left in the world with no amnesty.
His working life as someone's property
Now we look on at peaceful poverty.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Exposed Senses

She wept as a bride sat on the edge of winds,
her senses raw to emotional dreams.
Her mouth quenched by bitter tragedy,
the sweetness of lemons would have kinder taste.
Her eyes see clearly the blurring figures,
illusions of reality quest in her mind.
The scent clouds of burning ice and fire,
tremble as she inhales in sobs of hunger.
Her fingers grip in futility of a gesture
grasping the strands of the nothing that remains.
The anguished screams making music in her ears
melodious cries formed in the heaving light.
Pubescent energies foretell of the will to be
in a world of contradiction and strife.
Entrapped by the senses and deprivation
a web of perception in fantasy's realm.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Aftermath

After the war lands list lifeless and grey
The men return like melodic zombies.
Battle weary and beaten like dulled clay
All victims of conflicts between the Tshombes.

The women have no hope in their soulless eyes
Devoid of emotion, no will to care.
The cruel loyalty of endless sighs
As loved ones fail to appear, none will share.

A child in confusion is war's toll.
Father slain by a bullet, left to die.
Mother raped by grief, it's taken her soul.
Such anger breeds inside, the next war cry.

When will the lessons of peace be given
As anger for vengeance remains in mind.
The rage for war is endlessly driven.
Are we destined to remain always blind.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

What is an Image?

A moment of emotional instances of time
As complex or as simple as a brief thought.
Abstracts caught by poets making a rhyme
With a pen just as they were taught.
Surreal nature trapped by colour in paint
From artists who see with their inner eyes.
Photographs of the mind, intense or feint
They stay as a reminder as time flies.
Hold the moments that make those brief images
For when you take trips on past pilgrimages.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Hell's Kitchen

In the kitchens of hell the oven hid,
Trembling with fear from the glowing furnace.
Anger and rage were brewing under war's lid
A storm stewing in the depths of darkness.

Sins so deadly combine inside the fire,
Avarice and envy sparing in flame.
Lust in confusion of a love's desire
Fingers pointing with no-one left to blame.

Over-indulgence pitted with hunger
Whilst fools laze in the comfort of false pride.
A world of vice left to the fear monger
And those with no care along for the ride.

Look beneath with thought pry under hell's lid
And see for your eyes why the oven hid.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Hymn to the Gods

Forces of nature, hail to Thee,
From here on bended knee.
The Earth Mother graces us with life
To live free without strife.

The blessings surround us each day,
The tree spirits shelter our way.
The song of life is ours to dance
With passion and romance.

As our feet walk upon her soul
Let truth remain our goal.
In hope and faith let there be trust
The light of all life our lust.

So smile as you see Her and greet
The Earth sings 'Merry Meet'.
By the will of the gods ' Blessed Be'
With peace She lets us live free.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Just a Boy

Stood beneath the station clock I wait,
Make-up fixed as my nerves start to tremble.
Apprehension inside growing as I watch the gate
As the crowd for the next train assemble.

Eyes slowly move to the clock, quarter to eight.
I wonder if the ad in the paper was right,
And then hope that his train isn't too late.
The letters exchanged, yet still I feel this fright.

'Pull yourself together, girl, it's only a date!'
A brief hello at a nearby pizza bar.
The letters it seemed this was our fate,
He's just a boy, me a girl, we could go far.

Why worry if the need for love we sate?
Oh, why can't it be easy to find the perfect mate?

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

My Heart Draws A Dream

When you love me I feel alive,
Without you I could not survive.
You are my passion, basic instinct,
Every breath feels fresh and distinct

As your lips brush my ear
I lose the nightmares and fear.
A kiss, my mind lost in concious stream
The artist within sketches a dream.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Where It Was Dark

The lights of city life are drowning the stars
Endless droning from the slow moving cars
I long for the country, the song of the lark
Where silence reigned and it was dark.

The stars were alive with the radiance of day
As the owls called softly on the hunt for prey
Lost to the mayhem of city life
I want freedom from the rat-race and strife.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

So Far From You

The seas that ebb and flow between two hearts
That loved with passion, yet there lies a grudge.
The eyes of jade shine as envy imparts
Irrational thoughts like a subtle nudge.
No road or bridge can cross the growing gap
Built by the green eyed demon of jealous rage.
Bitter, twisted, love lies as useless scrap
As truth is not enough to turn the page.
The lack of trust has left nothing to save,
Our love has gone, lost to envy's desire.
I look at you, my eyes, empty, still crave.
Alas, your demon has slain my heart's fire.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.