Haiku

the repeat episodes 

we wrapped up in pain

old reels in a can

© JG Farmer 2013

Haiku

a matching pair

of shared memories and dreams

now he walks alone

© JG Farmer 2013

Haiku

potential

hidden in depths of slumber

as the sun goes down

© JG Farmer 2013

Haiku

metal and leather

thunder in the distance

high speed rebellion

© JG Farmer 2013

Only Words

The ink that flows freely from a writer’s pen stalled that day. Every word seemed wrong and out of place and each one felt like a lead weight dragging down on my heart. The salutation was too formal but a familiar cheery greeting would have been inappropriate.

This letter had to be clear and concise. No pretty waffling decorating the page and clouding the issue. Slowly behind me the pile of screwed up balls of paper grew, each one evidential of my inability to communicate simple facts.

The silver fountain pen drank heavy on another intake of viscous black ink and I started the process again. Once again fighting the urge to give up my pen struggled to write.

Later my hand shook as I put the envelope in the red box outside the Post Office before I drifted home to the safety behind the closet door.

Job done!

© JG Farmer 2013

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/tuesdays-thinking-08-october-2013.html

Haiku

brief moment

captured in stillness of time

and memories smile

© JG Farmer 2013

The Performance

Since the day they said ‘I do’ they had done the same ritual. Like actors on the stage they pucker up for set piece kiss as lips brush briefly implying affection. Behind her eyes she is seeing a shopping trip the highlight being a cappuccino in the higher end coffee bar on the High Street. She loved watching Mario’s deft hands create a masterpiece in the milky froth just to please her. As she thought about how the twinkle in his eye made her heart skip the wry smile on her lips was just enough to convince her husband she had heard him say goodbye as he left for the office. 

He closed the door a little too quickly and drove in the wrong direction to a discreet hotel, where Miranda, his secretary, was waiting his arrival and their early morning meeting.

© J Farmer 2013

Prompt: http://theboipoet.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/three-on-friday-4-october-2013.html

Haiku

noisy chatter

as hands grab sandwiches

in plastic boxes

© J Farmer 2013

Revealing Secrets

Texte: Doubt whom you will, but never yourself – Christian Nevell Bovee

The distant dream of all that might have been
Before the doubts destroyed the thoughts of trust
And love declined to see another day
As to its end love drifted as it must
Before the light of day could fall in sin

Beliefs inside that love will find away
Hide fears denied by truth within the heart
While haunting dreams that come from long ago
To plant the seeds of doubt where they start
The thought of trust have nothing left to say

But self-esteem must learn to live and grow
With faith in self to do the thing that’s right
A sense of worth within the outer skin
For truth of self will lead the soul to light
Revealing secrets the heart needs to know

Artwork by Pixoto

© J Farmer 2013

July 1982

Words of hate dictated by creed

Love’s need a pathway of pain

Making our plans on the lake

Youthful mistakes in the rain

Need to belong was too strong

Our love was wrong and fears cried

Yet as we kissed on the shore

So much more must be denied

This was more than a good-bye

This living lie must be fate

So much joy lost inside me

No longer free it’s too late.

© Jem Farmer 2013

Notes: Form: Awdl Gwydd

Personal Scrutiny

I thought accepting my gender identity was a tough nut. It was, but not as tough as the scrutiny I feel I am under now. Everything I do, say and think is being microscopically analysed. Not by other people, but by myself. I keep checking myself – is what I am wearing male enough, is the book I am reading too feminine, is the level of my voice deep enough or is the way I walk too much of a girly wiggle rather than a manly strut?

I was expecting it from others and, as I am my own worst critic, a bit from myself – but not to this extent. It is not that I doubt what I am doing is right; I know this transition is right for me and I got to get on and face it. I have known my gender identity since I was a little kid and have buried it since then too. I know the major part of transition is self-acceptance and although I have been aware of it since I was a child I am only just coming to terms with my identity. I have got to be patient with myself.

Transsexuality or gender dysphoria is a lonely place. Yes there are support groups, yes I have wonderful supportive family and friends – and I really do appreciate all of them. However, they cannot make the decisions for me. Transition is self-realization and finding my own identity rather than the one I built to hide myself. Denying self has been the easier option and frankly still is but it is not the healthy one.

I suppose I am habitually applying that same inner critique that buried my male awareness to present as female to my identity now but in reverse. I look at the list of what may be to come and it looks terrifying but to go back is even more so and I do not want to go back so it is not an option anyway. Transition is very much cross each bridge as it is needed to be crossed and I know that is the only way that I can do it.





© J Farmer 2013

Silent Sound

Another conversation in the darkness of night
when no words were heard
or even uttered
yet so many questions posed hooking for an answer
between the sunset and starlight
the mind crawls around
yet doesn’t notice a passing thought
with its own intentions
while it searches for a neurological resonance
because it is vital, it is energy
and living is more vital than dreaming of what if’s
and if only’s are discarded with the trash
casually forgotten like a one-night fuck
a thought hungry for dignity
but there is no dignity in making do
a touch without love is nothing much
meaningless moments sating greed
forgotten too easy in the graspings of lust
that built the cage to contain the thought
but it would not be silenced
until the mind dared to listen to that one silent sound

© J Farmer 2013



Notes: 

Prompt: because of sound

Form: Free Verse

Old Tom

Old Tom is sitting on the river bank
His eyes watching the line where the hook sank
While I stumbled in tying the simplest knot
His patient fingers then showed me again
As we talked of things I learned a lot
When we just sat there quiet setting bait
And I’d watch his grace when making a cast
Another tea while in silence we wait
Our eyes fixated on floats bobbing fast
As the willowy trees whispered ‘It’s late
The time for fishing here has long gone past
Now I sit alone on the river bank
To hear the trees repeating Tom’s refrain
My memories here have never forgot


© J Farmer 2013