Wednesday, 24 November 2021

A Poem a Day (481): Dew

 
Dew
 
We devour the line
and in killing time
come to depend
on one another.

Reason lit confounds,
gives vision to sound,
rustles up new words to
describe the everyday.

This is the essence of
play, of removal,
of being in the moment
already passed.

We wait for morning,
count the dew
settling and reflecting
our own skin.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 24, 2021


Monday, 22 November 2021

A Poem a Day (480): Idle days

 
Idle days

 
We dream of warm days.
The scent of idleness
brushes us by, renewing
energies we thought lost.
 
We pigeon our dreams away,
franked and labelled neatly,
message them to runaways
and open them in stealth.
 
We are dreamers lost and dreamt,
woken in fields of our minds,
creating ever-new patterns
and words we’ll use just once.
 
This is how we paint our days,
eye the slither of grease & wet
the deep slide on to canvas
of oils molten in our hands.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 22, 2021
 
 


Saturday, 13 November 2021

A Poem a Day (479): Whale song

 
Whale song
 
Down in the deepest depths, his berth,
swallowed whole by the elements
in this bluest of cages sunk down,
beneath the echoes of all things.
 
We listen through the silences,
the blind moan of the world below,
in the sheer vale of distance,
listen for the dawn of his song.
 
It drifts out, down, between oceans,
journeying the currents without him
while he lies suspended and still,
smaller life in sacred awe.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 13, 2021


Saturday, 30 October 2021

A Poem a Day (478): Pumpkin man (a Villanelle)


Pumpkin man (a Villanelle)
 
He is the pumpkin man
carving out teeth and eyes,
doing all he possibly can
 
to be ready for Sanhain,
a time of spirits and sighs.
He pours the leftovers in a pan,
 
a buzzy orange mix. Dan
is his name. With a disguise,
the heads look almost human.
 
These pumpkins, how they sang
aloud without any cares.
They were his number one fan.
 
At midnight away they all ran
while Dan baked pumpkin pies,
gingerbread and pecan flan.
 
He is the pumpkin man,
carving out teeth and eyes,
doing all he possibly can
to be ready for Sanhain.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 30, 2021

Saturday, 16 October 2021

New release: A Poem a Day (poetry book)


I have a new book release (the first since 2015!). It's a poetry book called A Poem a Day.

It's a collection of 446 poems, written between April 2020 and March 2021. In April 2020, I decided to try to write a poem a day on my blog, Vixie’s Stories, following prompts on NaPoWriMo.net. The following month I kept going.

It has been published on Amazon. It's also on Smashwords (which will soon distribute it to places like Barnes & Noble).

A Poem a Day (477): Suspended

I've posted this one on JD Mader's writing website, Unemployed Imagination. Head over there this weekend to write about or read any topic you like - it's all at 2minutesgo. 


Suspended
 
Suspend disbelief
without strings or nets
to catch the worthy traveller,
seek him in disarray.
 
We outlive colour,
dream of how it mixes
faces and odd scenarios,
whips up an idle scream.
 
This is the fulfilling time
where harm ran amock,
spilt wine on the floor
and forgot to close the door.
 
But we survive all endings,
refigure how they evolved,
seeking closure in murmurs
of conversations we’ve lost.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 16, 2021


Saturday, 9 October 2021

A Poem a Day (476): Winter blues

 
 
This week in my poetry class we had to write a blues poem. Lines 1 and 2 are the same, but can have small differences, and line 3 rhymes with them both. 


Winter blues
 
In the heart of winter the earth is silent,
in the beat of winter the earth lies silent.
trees skim broken, the sky darkly rent.
 
Old Man Withers drags his heavy legs,
Old Man Withers shifts his weary legs,
ignoring how his faithful Alsation begs.
 
The earth snow solid crunches under foot,
the earth breathes and crunches under foot,
this white chilled hand concealing every root.
 
A robin hops, spreads his wings and flies,
a robin chirps, unfurls his wings and flies.
At the turn of spring is when winter surely dies.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 9 2021
 


Saturday, 25 September 2021

A Poem a Day (475): She likes to mix it up

 
She likes to mix it up
sometimes, share her heart
on a leaf of paper read,
scribbled on with her name.
It is eager to reveal itself,
being unique and well formed.
This is where it lays its head,
opens its arms in the spread.
It is only one person here,
standing still against the cold,
the sun has dripped away
behind the cloudy silent screen.
It’s a pattern she knows
while she waits for the stars
to empty out their souls
til there is nothing but dust.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 25, 2021


Thursday, 16 September 2021

A Poem a Day (474): Erosion

 
Erosion
 
Two went out
but only one returned.
 
He trips on fault,
refusing to say a word.
 
Lost among giants
towering over landscapes
 
ripped and engineered
by erosion’s hands.
 
They say prayers at night,
wondering where she is,
 
begging for a little help
where silence now lives.
 
We see her face online,
smiles for the camera,
 
so carefree and happy.
Where could she be?
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 16, 2021


Saturday, 11 September 2021

A Poem a Day (473): Feathers

 
Feathers 
 
Feathers turn on the air,
burrow in the upflift
fluttering, these precious things,
the barest feel of touch
spinning. A white glow.
Breezes take them skyward
as if to connect with the stars,
breathe as high as the moon.
Scant traces of being
blown away and now lost.
Not feathers but people
falling.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 11, 2021