Chimeras 500th Post!


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Static Days

Another morning walk to the train station
only to stand mannequin-like on the platform
I feel the train approaching 
and the wave of movement starts  
but I stay still
letting the people break around me
I don’t go forward.
I don’t go backward.
I am inert
and my mind has gone underground
while the trains pass one after another…
I stand at the window 
and listen to the hush breaking under the weight of the birds song
and gaze at the sunrise painting the sky
and I should gather that gold into my arms 
to carry through the day
leaving light in the spaces I move through
But all I feel is sunset
I am sinking beneath the edge
and darkening
and there is only farewell in the music my heart beats in time with…
These are static days for me
 I am unchanging in a constantly changing world
rigid and marking blind time
waiting for something to move me.


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Nocturnes by Jaye Tomas now available for KINDLE!




link for Kindle:

A note from Jaye Tomas  -

Very pleased to offer this excerpt from my first (*please note the optimism here!*) book.

I also wish to thank all of you who have read and supported my scribbles. This book happened because of people like you believing. Peace.

Nocturnes ~

“Nocturnes move amidst the night-time multitude
persistently unnoticed in the greying light
Masks fixed in place, smiles too
Hiding a glittering malevolence
the swirl of smoke blown back into the bottle
and held with incantations old as iron
Merlin’s will long held sway
against the undoing
but moonscape and nightmare exert their tidal pull
secure in knowledge that time and legends pass
until one glance too long into a looking glass
the snake charmer only holds the gaze, ‘tis the snake who wields the magic…”

“Your words are wings…” Comment for new book

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NOCTURNES IS REAL! The book is here!!!!!


Nocturnes  by Jaye Tomas

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. ~ Ernest Hemingway

And he was exactly right. Well, after all the work…..Nocturnes is here. It’s real and it’s…… And its real and its…..well, you get the idea.

If I am supposed to act all cool and grownupish I have failed MISERABLY.  I have made strange guinea pig weeking noises. I have fist pumped. Now I need to go lie down…..

Take a look, buy if you can, encourage your friends, talk about it, admire the fabulous artwork (thank you Sorell!!)

Thank you Thank you Thank you all for stopping by and saying hello, for reading and encouraging and  – in some cases – becoming my friend.  Peace.

Here are the links:


Amazon UK:


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The Bells

She delays the moment of rising

of cover throw back and movement

until she hears the church bells

ringing silver into the bland air of morning

and knows she can’t stay any longer

the dance of cold on bare floorboards and a murky mirror 

reflecting a faded room and a fading face

She knows shouldn’t be there

she knows she died once upon a time…

but there’s no where else for her to go
and the memory of the bells

even though rusted silent and green with moss

is enough keep her rising…

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You asked “do I sit here?” and I nodded absent mindedly
nudging the easel and canvas over to a better light
and you were quiet and I was lost in a world of lines and angles and shading
and nobody spoke
your breathing was like a river
smooth and unhurried and that caught me
swept me along
and I flowed with you
and time disappeared
It was the mixing that made me pause
the swirl of tints smelling sharp and bright
ready for the magic to happen
for the blend of pigments to become 
and I looked into your eyes
and stopped
time broke the surface in a blast of fluorescent light and sound
because I was lost, floundering 
I had never mixed the color of despair
and I dared another glance
and your eyes were fringed with it
stark and vivid
but there is no chart where that shade is broken down 
and the silence snapped in two
as I said, “we’re done for today.”
  and “thank you.”
and you slid down off the chair
 stepped out the door
taking your colors away
and I sat
for a long while
then I took up my palette again
and mixed remorse.


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Veiled Lady cry for me
spill your silent tears
let them pour like rain
to wash away any paltry memories
use them to feed the grass
for I have no use for them any longer
my lonely journey has finished
as solitary as it began
there were no songs shared
no laughter under starry skies
no hands to clasp
and none can touch me now.
*photo by Irene Spadacin*
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