Jaye Tomas ~ Chimera Poetry

A Post About Wednesday…on Thursday

It’s Wednesday and I have this back of my mind feeling that it’s supposed to be a significant day. Wodens (or Odin) Day. Mid week day. An unbirthday day. I can’t put my finger on whatever it is that’s supposed to mark it. (and it’s highly possible that the back of my mind is just snickering as it watches me dart anxiously about) Back in March I was positive that by now I would have completed…

Friday and Hearts of Clay

Today, so far, has been another "Bad News" day. Lately I have been thinking that being a golem made of clay has a lot of appeal. A clay heart has its advantages, could be just what I'm looking for right now. ( That and a body that doesn't creak audibly with each step down the stairs every morning would be a plus too.) I'm tired of feelings and failing to feel and walking into traps set by lurking…

Wednesdays and What is Real?

Wednesday rolls around like a relative who you only like at parties when there are other things (kids, food, game of bags) to distract you. But not the one you want to sit and spend close up time with. 

Wednesday is just the day before Thursday, which is just the day before Friday. When Friday meant FRIDAY, pre lockdown.

I think about these things as I sit at work. Then I write about…

Five Things About the Night You (probably) Didn’t Know

In false sunlight,  electrically charged, the chatter surfaces,  "the night is young...!" The night knows better. Patti sang that the night  belongs to lovers, but the night has an... unusual  manner of loving, that no earthborn, so soft and so easily peeled,  wants to belong to. Children of the night, they call themselves, but they are really just dabblers in the dark. The night has no…

A Day Like Any Other Day

It was a day like any other day.

There was weather. Air. Time. 

Nothing remarkable or notable. If Oliver had stopped to think about it (which he didn’t) he would have decided that he felt the same as he always did.

It was a school day so he put on his blue shirt. Hoisting his backpack up he walked down the stairs half listening to the voices outside. If all three of his friends were…

What Can You Say About Thursdays?

What can you say about Thursdays? 

With the Covid-19 lockdown a lot of the emphasis on the upcoming weekend has been lost for many people. Some name the days just “Day” and let it go. But it’s still there and still named (even if we don’t bother) and still the most neglected day I think.  It’s the day we rush past to get to Friday. It’s leftovers day. It’s the “I still have to set an alarm…

Pale horse.

Pale rider.

Why pale? Death should be juicy

bursting with life,

overflowing,

full of color and salt,

redolent with incense and sticky with nightmares boiled down to an essence,

a thick rubydark Bordeaux…

I see her in the corner,

like a hole punched out in the light,

her hair matching the shadows ,

and roses where her eyes should be…

Weekends and a Nameless Horse

Weekends aren’t the same anymore are they?

I still get that “Friday feeling” (insert dancing dog here meme _______) but I don’t know why.

I am not going anywhere or doing anything. But I like easy Saturday mornings, drinking coffee / tea in bed, the usual “GETUPNOWANDCHANGETHEWORLD” guilt quiescent….for the moment.

It’s more a feeling. I’m probably still programmed somewhere deep…