Writer T. James' Exploration of Words, on the Internet.
A Gender Studies grad named Rose,
Dreamed of joining the corporate-elite CEOs.
She wanted to rob
Some cis-het-white male’s job:
With affirmative action…
Her application gained traction.
Business degrees, who needs those?
≠
T. James; Sept, 2017.
(Image credit and usage: https://pixabay.com/en/executive-businesswoman-511708/)
Recently I’ve received some great news: Great Escapes, Volume 1, an anthology of poems and short stories, has reached its funding target on Kickerstarter. Why is this great news? Because I have a poem, Aftermath of a Stormy Night, included in its pages and this will be my first piece of poetry to see print. 
There are still five days to go before the Kickstarter appeal closes, so this is your last chance to dive over there and grab yourself a copy and some perks by making a pledge. Yes, I do get royalties, but I also think you’ll find something in it to fire your imagination…
If you are interested just click this link to Kickstarter. Enjoy.
Dark eyes of flint, blue of loss, hazel of new growth broken, avaricious emerald, hopeless grey.
They watched him, held and helpless, suffering the torment of impotence—unable to choose, to act, to change.
Hair flailing to shoulders in tresses, locks, hanks. Falling crimson to earth.
Metallic bands of fear gripped his wrists, ankles, temples.
Livid bruises discolouring the skin where they/he fought. Humiliation running warm and wet down between legs. Tracks of wetness, tracks of red.
Constricted throats filled loud with silent animal cries. Silence: a wall of accusation.
In the icy stillness, still they stared.
Unable to bare their gaze, he opened his eyes.
Through the blur of remorseless tears of sweat, he saw the Governor press the switch.
♠
A flash-fiction/poetry composition © T. James, November, 2012.
When I spoke to my Mum recently she requested I write her a poem. I waited for my mind to fill with poetic epiphany, or a melodramatic Oedipal theme. What I got was something simple, and so, hopefully, it is that little bit more truthful… Continue reading
Why? Because I fancy the challenge, and how many people do you know who have had a poem written especially for them?
The Prize:
Your very own, unique, personalised short poem. (No, you are not getting a modern version of the Ancient Mariner).
Yours truly is the poet. You will, therefore, have to work out the value of the prize for yourself… 
Continue reading
It’s Boxing Day and what to blog?
We’ve eaten a third of the turkey, and barely touched the hog…
The family’s out in the rain for their annual slog,
Filling their lungs with city-park smog.
Aunty’s sprout allergy kicked in – she’s on the bog,
We’ll call the plumber later for the much needed de-clog.
Junior’s new puppy just laid another Christmas log,
Or is that Junior2’s joke plastic analogue?
Uncle is comatose from too much grog,
His still-lit pipe pouring out that noxious fog.
Teenagers, unsatisfied, digest the catalogues,
All thoughts of love, and selfless giving – empty epilogue.
Boxing Day leaves only the young at heart still agog,
To carry forward their joy of giving into next year’s dialogues.
. —♥—
“Boxing Day – A Christmas Poem” by T. James, © December 2011.
Image by pancaketom offered royalty free from stockfresh.com
Another first for me as a writer – an attempt at ‘serious’ poetry (no sniggering at the back there!) that doesn’t rhyme. It’s got metaphors in it, so it must be the real deal… 
The original idea came after a call for poetry from Chrissey Harrison, on behalf of The Great Escape website. This, and four other poems by other writers are posted there for your delectation. Just click the on the link. Enjoy. 
The brief was to write a poetic piece about, “The Night Sky.” Initially I thought it would be easy, after all the night sky is easy to be poetic about, right? Too easy as it turns out…
Ever since “Twinkle twinkle little star…” poets have been looking at the starry heavens for inspiration, and to impress the bird who lives at no. 43; the one with the lisp, jutting chin, and boils. Sorry. Anyway, it took a long time to find an idea that wasn’t just going to be a clichéd re-hash of over-used themes. I hope I’ve succeeded. Please let me know what you think, and what you think it’s about, in the comments (and yes, you are allowed to say you don’t like it, although stating why will enable you to justifiably wear your air of intellectual smugness). I hope you enjoy it… Continue reading
Cheryl Cole: her dimples don’t seem to have held her back.*
For those who think their dimples are a terrible burden to bear, a deforming crease on an otherwise elegantly smooth cheek… Bear in mind that others may not see them in the same way…
Below is something a little more serious than my normal offerings, and in all honesty I’ve got no idea if it’s any good or not…
I am but a bug,
Crushed by the shoe of my conscience.
Kindness, and decency are only a thin façade,
A broken and superficial shell,
Cracked irrevocably into thousands of pieces.
Forgiveness through atonement: to be carried and scraped a little on every surface,
Thinning, until all that is evil is gone.
A poem by T. James, September, 2011.
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