Tuesday, 16 July 2019

A Poem a Day (97): Figurehead of a bow


Figurehead of a bow
  
I will bleed
between
waking
Until this sodden bed resembles a
                                        floating sea,
Merlot, without the heady
scent.

I shall dine like a queen
             on my bones,
prised free of flesh, 
       picking.

And in my fists I will see the final
stage –
         my re-emergence from
stasis and quiet, 
                   heady in
my mask of a thousand
                                 faces.

I am a figment, chiselled
in a distant memory,
a nod to the ages
already fled, bled and
battered down
to a dusty heel,

Once moulded,
now steeped
in foul
disaffection.

I need The Repeat,
                       the Want and the Scold,
And in this parting I will not lose
shape.

I can recraft myself as I have done before,
a
zillion
times before
you were even
born.

My blood weighs heavy, 
                               bonding
                       to the bed
            like jelly –
an irreverent tomb for the
self.



x

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 9, 2018

Monday, 15 July 2019

A Poem a Day (96): Moon


If you fancy writing some flash fiction or poetry, and getting/giving feedback, or just reading other people's creations, head over to JD Mader's 2minutesgo website. It’s a great place to go and write whatever is in your head. Cheers.

Moon

It’s a sound and a smell, unraveling,
The beginning of it all, unstaged,
A ring of a bell, an iced knell,
A silencing of words held in stasis.
The reconfiguration torn, time
Spends itself in a reordering of mime,
Chaos reminisced, and so it stops
Still, a grin marking skin pulled
Tight; this sense of ages spun,
Reborn in the morning, figure none.
We all begin to rebegin amid waste,
A mind creeping, begging to explain,
Eager to foul, dismembered to fall.
She cannot explain, she cannot see it.
We are existence twisted, left, lone,
Seeking a guide without a true path,
And in finding one we call it home.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 8, 2019

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Saturday, 6 July 2019

Flash fiction (23): To fading


I wrote this today for JD Maders writing site. If you fancy writing some flash fiction or poetry, and getting/giving feedback, or just reading other peoples creations, head over to JD Maders 2minutesgo website. It’s a great place to go and write whatever is in your head. Cheers.


To fading

I give you nothing in the eyes of this sacred summer; a cold distancing you need to get you through this night. It will breathe, the truth, resurrect you in a blink, deliver you from the evil you bang on about. Yet you love it so, inhaling its dank breath; relishing this reality, this true relationship, the deepest one you’ve ever shared with another – behold, the biggest loss you’ll feel when claws wrench it away.

I watch you. Like a child you sleep, breathing the nether, the empty, a time of bliss and quiet, and still, so still. A sculpture, palest cheeks carved into the pillow. I’m scarcely aware that you exhale. Do you? Are you real? I sometimes wonder.

The way you tilt your chin and look at me in that way you have when you think I’m not seeing you, it makes me weary now. Weary of tomorrow. If only you could stay like this, simple, away from the world you find so difficult to trudge through. It starves you of what you need. You never tire of telling me this. Reminding me. Informing me why the creative inside of you is dead.

They killed it, you say. And sometimes you cry. But you know I can’t bear to see a man cry. Your endless desire for empathy is a drowning. You would have steered me away from you, dragged me across a lake, pretending you could walk on water. And now you disintegrate into dreamtime, the only safe crossing for you.

What if you don’t wake up? What if you just stop? What if? This second is the longest and I keep the door ajar for you, waiting. Outside an owl sounds and I know it echoes here for you.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 6, 2019


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Saturday, 8 June 2019

A Poem a Day (95): War puppets

Afternoon! I haven't posted anything since February, it seems. Ah, the speed of light! I hope you've all been more creative than me this year. Cheers to that! How life gets in the way sometimes.

If you fancy writing some flash fiction or poetry, and getting/giving feedback, or just reading other people's creations, head over to JD Mader's 2minutesgo website. It’s a great place to go and write whatever is in your head. Cheers.


War puppets

I can reorder time,
We all can,
See it slither in your grasp,
Catch it, scoop it up,
Taste it on your tongue.

Will it make you lie?
Can you lie here with me?

I catch a star,
It glistens; I catch a fly,
It dies so prettily.

This purpose humours none,
I honour my life in futility.

They despair, longing nightly
For the curtain beyond this,
The days laid out as counting beans,
Miniscule ages ripped away,
And thus they file out,
Aching feet sullied by mud.

I hear a dim cry in the light
But it’s buried under sound.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 8, 2019