Vernal Senses

 

The first gentle kiss of sunlight,
invites my soul with its dawn ray,
to spend a while with nature's love,
wandering spring's pathways today.

Inhale the freshness after snow,
entwined with sweet floral bouquet,
from clusters of yellow found there,
wandering spring's pathways today.

Savour this first morning of growth,
that brings joy and hope as I pray,
tastes of life released from winter,
wandering spring's pathways today.

Musical serenades return,
as birds call their lovers to play,
among the budding leaves I see
wandering spring's pathways today.

Visions of sunshine saffron clouds,
cheeky daffodils wave my way,
my companions as I walk in thought,
wandering spring's pathways today.



© Jem Farmer 2009, all rights reserved.

Dreams of Summer Love

From airport to hotel and beach,
Come thoughts of holiday romance.
Eyes meet and drink as fingers teach,
Amidst the dreams of summer love.

The passion intense, the feelings real,
Two hearts in union, sipping wine.
Sun tanning days, lust moments steal,
Amidst the dreams of summer love.

Two weeks go fast, back on the plane,
Undying love declared goodbye.
Promises of letters in vain,
Amidst the dreams of summer love.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Brief Intro

A writer of poems at forty
A lady but not of leisure
I live in England, how haughty
My pet cats are divine pleasure

An eco-warrior I be
A wild Pagan heart is my treasure
Words and pictures set my mind free
My pet cats are divine pleasure

Now learning to write with flow
And classical beat to measure
Form poetry now needs to show
My pet cats are divine pleasure.


© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Rainbow Dreams

Crystal orbs lie shattered in dust,
As the cherubs of twilight pry
Angel eyes invade divine lust
In rainbow dreams the spirits scry.

Serene wings reflect metallic light,
Hazy sunsets devour the day
Expressions of dusk shimmer bright
In rainbow dreams the spirits scry.

Days fade to memories of sand
On the shores where ideas cry.
Mystics slumber within night's hand
In rainbow dreams the spirits scry.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Curriculum Vitae

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

There once was a writer called Jem
The best of her erotica made one ‘ahem’
Much to her shame
She has quit that game
OK she still writes some of them.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

Nonsense verse that makes sense.
A love of Lear comes forth.
Dribbles and drabbles so intense
Like winds that bite from the north
Botherswipes that get in the way,
Grumblewits that say grow up now,
An inner child is at her play,
To keep her alive is my vow.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

The rule of play now is a beat,
To give poems rhythm and flow,
The meter gives a verse some feet,
And words now glow.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

The sonnet, long has been my muse in art
My dearest Shelley now lies in my heart
As paint and I unite with words of love
Like minds in time, a creative team above.

He died before his time in foreign sea,
He comes alive in paint and board with me.
'Though he was born two hundred years ago
In all his work I see my world on show

I paint and try to think as Shelley thought
The rebel of a Lord in Scouser's art
I use my talent and the skills I'm taught
But mostly I just paint a poet's heart

I want to try to paint away my rage
He used a pen to put his on the page.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

Words can be art, an image paint,
A poem can set feelings free,
Emotions with colour acquaint
A poet of sorts I will be.

Creation of art on paper,
Arts form a union inside me,
It really is quite a caper
A poet of sorts I will be

I am learning meter and rhyme
As part of classic poetry,
Flowing like paint, I hope, in time
A poet of sorts I will be.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

P oetry and art combine
A midst my blood, they entwine.
I magination and creativity
N eeds that make me who I am
T alented, probably not,
I am not conceited that way.
N ow and then inspired
G uess that is nearer the truth.

P eripatetic, with no line limit,
O verview of my poetic
E xperience you want,
T his is it … thus far.

A student of classics that is me
Never intended to write the words
That inspire me to draw and paint
A poet, no not me.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.

Un Cafe a Paris

I sat alone in the café
A glass, house red in front of me,
My thoughts drift to that day in May
Waiting for my Parisian.

In love we walked by the river
As city lights glimmer all night,
The promise, now would deliver,
Waiting for my Parisian.

Time ticks by so painfully slow,
The right place, our place as before.
Eyes glance to the clock, will he show?
Waiting for my Parisian.

Sunsets over Sacre Coeur’s view,
Thoughts entwine with the reddened sky,
On the breeze, I pray they reach you,
Waiting for my Parisian.

My mind hears your voice sing in French,
How this English girl fell in love,
My lost dreams of romance will quench,
Waiting for my Parisian.

As the bells of Notre Dame Ring,
Eyes glance one last time at the door,
And my heart in joy starts to sing
He’s here, my own Parisian.


© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.