This One

With standards lower
than my necklines,
I scribbled your name,
everywhere I could reach.
My wishes for us,
fell to the floor,
and I joined them,
clutching at your shoes,
the hems of your trousers,
hysterically hoping.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Don’t let this one,
be the one,
who leaves,
like the last.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

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The Answered

I wanted him to look at my face,
and follow the script,
but we had wandered into an ad lib class,
so it was up in the air,
like the planes,
and the pollution.
He tried not to say it,
but when he looked at my face,
he could see you all over it,
so I suppose I’ll wait,
until you want to kiss yourself.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

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A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review

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El Triste

El triste.
I am at my mirror,
unable to glance up,
to the disappointed gaze,
of a girl who hoped for better,
but settled for something that made sense.
I am wrapped in the velvet rope,
that holds me,
from the woman I want to be,
and I am ashamed,
but apathetic,
that I didn’t fight for myself.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

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A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review

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Medicine Cabinet

I made friends with the medicine cabinet.
I asked him to take me away,
from the house that built me,
and I asked it why the house went deaf,
every time I went to the door,
to tell it my troubles.
He told me she had dreams for me,
stuffed in her ear, like wax ,
and I couldn’t push the truth in if I tried.
So I just lay,
on the kitchen floor,
watching the waves of the washing machine,
the way I used to when I was a child,
and he placed a pill,
one for each year,
we’d been friends,
on my tongue,
until it was full,
and he took me away,
from the house that built me,
and it fell to the ground.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

RECENT BLOGS
A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review

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Love Lessons – Short Film

Hola amigos!

I wanted to share a quick video with you today. I’m experimenting with the idea of short films to accompany poems that I write. This is something I get a little more into with the Drowning In Us project, but I’m also working on some shorts to go with other projects, including this one, based on the poem Love Lessons from my latest book, Home Wrecker.

Click below to watch, and I hope you enjoy it!

Besos,

J x

 


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

RECENT BLOGS
A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review

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Happy Halloween!

Hola amigos, and happy Halloween!

Below are some brand new halloween poems for you to enjoy, and a link to listen to the extra spooky episode of Sincerely, Jennifer x

I hope you have a spooky and safe Halloween!

Listen to the Halloween episode of the podcast HERE

Besos,

J x


AreyouAfraid-jenniferjuan


Are You Afraid?

Monsters in office,
on iPods, big and small screens.
Are you afraid, love?
Like and subscribe,
vote for them
and they crawl,
from under the bed,
at the dead of night,
through headphones,
slither into DMs,
and touch,
with teeth,
all over their body,
and ours.

Are they ashamed, love?
Only when we speak,
and a publicist shrieks,
that stocks are dropping,
and sales are shocking.
They’re strong and stable,
changing the world,
oh so capable,
until unmasked.
Suddenly, boys,
not men,
but boys,
who couldn’t help,
slight indiscretions,
but please support them,
while they “get better”.

What are we to do, love?
Like and subscribe,
to lifting the voices,
once afraid of being heard.
Send the truth to the top of the charts,
vote for the one who says “I believe you.”
Settle down,
at the cinema,
to watch those who don’t need to be shamed,
to be better.
My name,
is all of yours,
I approve this message.

-x-

The Presence

I’m crazy for you,
and the way you freeze the room,
to tell me, you’re here.

-x-

Basement

As you hold me,
late at night,
when the world is drained,
and distant,
I begin to wonder,
how many days,
you expect me to stay,
tied up in your basement.

-x-

Motherhood

From the second we were together,
I knew you’d be the death of me.
The dreaded double stripe,
and non connecting number,
given by a man I knew I’d never see again,
paled to the way you clawed at my insides.
Though I held you close,
until the day of your escape and ascension,
every second was hell.

I would scream,
for freedom,
release,
death,
and I could hear you,
gurgling and giggling in my guts,
as you sapped my strength,
and prepared to devour the planet.

-x-

Freddy, My Love

On our first date,
I trembled as you drew closer,
my pearls were ice,
against my neck,
as I traced and cherished each letter of your name.
Freddy,
my love,
you haunt my desires,
my hands, possessed,
wander under your dictation,
until I fill my home,
with the name that aches in my mind,
a masterful migraine,
a rapturous roar.
Freddy,
oh,
Freddy,
my love.

-x-

Cupcakes From Damien

He says he loves me,
and nobody could love me more,
and he has left cupcakes,
by the door,
so I can taste his passion.

He says he has baked
the day he first saw me,
and each sleepless night since,
underneath vanilla icing,
and left them at my door.

He says he longs for me,
and he calls every number I have,
an unrepentant bingo bastard,
until I scream that I won’t play,
and I don’t want his cupcakes.

He feeds his fantasies,
but I won’t let him feed me.

-x-

Are YOUR Children In A Cult?

She’s very “Saint Tropez”,
whatever that means.
A vaporwave vixen,
God’s girlfriend,
sending the good word,
through small screens,
and leading the children off a cliff.

-x-

Haunted

I didn’t watch a tape,
hunt for a haunted house,
or stare into a mirror,
while whispering your name,
into the icy night,
and yet,
every night,
you appear.
I lock my windows,
and doors,
pray that my heart will sleep,
as soon as my head hits the pillow,
so I won’t dream of you.

-x-

Bradley’s Girls

Bradley is my boy,
until he wakes up,
opens his eyes,
and falls in love,
all over again,
with everyone he sees.

A one woman man,
with a short attention span,
and a desire,
to keep us in a collection.
All of Bradley’s girls,
live in his heart,
and are a mangled mess at the back of his wardrobe.

-x-

Babydoll

Baby,
pay attention to me,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You told your phone to forget,
the naughty nights,
away from home,
but Babydoll,
has a memory you don’t control,
and she’s still waiting.

Baby,
you better call me back,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You ask Babydoll “forget”,
she shakes her head.
building a plan,
is Babydoll,
to punish the one who broke her heart.
Soothed by her seething.

Baby,
give me what I want,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You beg back home, “forgive”,
maybe she will,
maybe she won’t,
but Babydoll,
isn’t in that mood, she wants to play.
Are you playing?

Baby,
I told you we’re not through.
now you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

-x-

Heart

I went to New Orleans,
with you,
in my mind.
I had never felt such desire,
as when my eyes,
desperately draped themselves all over you,
and I knew,
you had my heart.

I drank your hair,
my blood,
and the light of the moon,
as the voices of the universe,
shook the ground,
until it pushed us together,
and I knew,
you had my heart.

You couldn’t resist dark, desperate passion,
that had been given wings,
and teeth, by a woman who warned me away.
My love circled your head,
and pecked until I could sit inside,
and I knew,
I had your heart.

When I was through,
crawling from your brain,
to do the walk of shame,
you clung to me,
and offered me a reason to stay.
Your lungs,
leaked through a hole,
in your chest,
but I couldn’t say yes,
though I knew,
I had your heart.

-x-

April Jane, And The Curious Case Of The Disappearing Dad

Screams at night,
that I first suspected,
came from the dolls,
at the end of my bed.

Fearless,
I scolded them.
“Don’t wake the neighbours.”
Back to sleep, I went.

Until more screams,
the dolls shrugged and wept,
as I rose from my bed,
and placed my ear to the door.

“HOW MANY?”
“I DON’T KNOW.”
“I’M CALLING THE POLICE.”
“I CAN’T LET YOU GO.”

A thud,
more weeping from the dolls,
and mother too,
I go back to sleep.

The next day,
dad went away,
to join Mum’s other friends.
I left flowers for him.

-x-

Dining At The End Of The World

We were so sweet,
hands clasped,
as we strolled
to the end of the world.

To run felt futile,
when I was happy,
to fade from life’s sky,
for the girl,
with a smile that all the stars envied.

You didn’t need to say a word,
I saw, before, when we ran,
the way the madness clamped it’s jaw,
around your dainty ankle,
and roared “No more.”

We strolled,
you hobbled,
to the end of the world,
where the madness took you,
and then, me,
ever so willingly.

We were so sweet,
when we ate each other whole,
dining at the end of the world,
with candles by our side,
and each other’s calves,
between our teeth.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

RECENT BLOGS
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review
How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker
It’s Time To Talk About EVE (Because Many People In The Wrestling Industry Won’t).

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The Game

Fifteen.
Nervous,
naive,
knee length skirt.
At a desk,
next to a boy I’d spoken to,
maybe once or twice.

Then he is joined,
by a friend I’ve never met,
and they engage,
in a game,
he normally saves,
for just before bed.
I try to look away,
but he tells me to look.

They tell me I am playing,
and reach for the woman
who lives where I do not dare to share.
She is sleeping,
and doesn’t know the rules.
They grab her from her cotton castle,
and I am in the game,
bound to lose.

We are both frozen,
unable to run,
afraid of what we’ve done,
or haven’t,
to be more accurate,
and when the boys are done,
we are numb,
and full of questions,
that we will never ask.

We will never play again,
we are not sure if we even did,
or if we were just sat,
a lone, broken battleship,
at the mercy of invasion,
from a boy “just being a boy”.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

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Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

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Listen to”Past Preston” here

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Kneeling In The Garden

Deep under dirt,

I grow,

audacious,

ferocious,

fed by rain,

you sought to deny me,

formally segregated sprinkles.

gettyimages-603553684.jpg

I will grow,

and glow,

under my moonlight,

and bloom,

in the morning,

to kneel,

with all the other flowers,

you denied the right to exist,

in your garden.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

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Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

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The Kidnapped Prince Of Iceland

Awoken from Iceland,

I sigh.

Fly high,

for breakfast,

before staring,

aimlessly,

at shameless tourists.

Beat up the windows,

Ask me to dance.

I will not dance.

Tilikum_(orca)_(Shamu).jpg

I’m so far away,

and they push pills in me,

and starve me out,

to bring me closer.

I lay still,

where nobody can see,

surrounded by tortured strangers,

that have become family.

I will not dance.

Bottom of the pool,

waiting for Iceland.

I will not dance for you,

in your cheap, chlorine hell.

My body belongs to the sea.


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Love Lessons

His brow furrowed,

as his eyes,

that had seen and collected,

the wonders of the world,

fell to the floor.

He asked me,

why I wanted him.

 

 

 

I took the hands,

that had spent more nights,

alive and exploring,

than I had had days on the earth.

I told him,

that I wanted someone,

who knew how to love me.

 

 

 

He has loved me,

with tenderness,

with curiosity,

with ferocious passion,

that he thought he had lost,

and I know,

nobody else could love me,

the way he taught me I deserve.


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Touristification

You are a tornado.

We took you into our arms,

but you spin out of control,

and tip trouble down your throat.

Por favor, no grites tan fuerte.

Our streets weep,

at your devastation,

as you scream at us,

in English,

as if it will magically translate,

the louder you become.

Deja de beber tanto.

As you roar through us,

we stand beneath you,

to catch the coins you drop,

so we can repair our pride.

El carrer no és un vàter.

We have to tell you in English,

because you won’t learn anything,

that isn’t in your phrasebook.

Encara sóc aquí.

Please, do not yell so loud.

Stop drinking so much.

The street is NOT a toilet.

I’m still here.

This was our home.

Esta fue nuestra casa.

What did you do,

on your summer holiday?


Order “Stormy Weather” here

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RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps


RECENT BLOGS
Let’s Go To The Movies
An Open Letter To Miranda Larbi, In Relation To Unicorns

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!

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Women Who Work (Really Hard At Pretending To Be Allies)

She tapped on a screen,
as if it meant the same,
as standing with the brave,
and using her freedom,
to free them.

I am proud
I will say I am proud
to support my LGBTQ friends and the LGBTQ Americans
of the LGBTQ Americans my Dad targets
who have made immense contributions to our society and economy.
so they can’t point out my cowardice,
in the face of their bravery.

I will say I am proud,
of the LBGTQ Americans my Dad targets,
so they can’t point out my cowardice,
in the face of their bravery.

She tapped on a screen,
and typed everything,
a publicist told her,
and it meant nothing.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps


RECENT BLOGS
Let’s Go To The Movies
An Open Letter To Miranda Larbi, In Relation To Unicorns

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!

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Stormy Weather

Hola amigos!

I hope you are coping with this heatwave better than I am…

I just wanted to check in and let you know about a few updates.

Firstly, you can now preorder my upcoming release here and it will be released on the 30th of June.

Secondly, if you sign up to my Patreon, you’ll receive a free ebook copy on the 30th of June.

Thirdly, you can now enter my tumblr giveaway by clicking here.

Besos,

J x