Tuesday, 20 November 2018

A Poem a Day (85): 5 haiku

A handful of little 5-7-5 poems from Life's Rhythms.

She stands still, in tune
With the silence of the sea,
Its roar stifled for now.

Leaves hurtle, twisting,
Dropping without an echo –
Curved, their hands open.

I dance in circles,
I walk in the straightest line,
I sleep in a curve.

Eyes turn to the sun,
River of blue-black shimmers
On peacock feathers.

A moonlight whisper,
Streaks of cloud fingers twisting,
Stars glisten silver.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone

Sunday, 18 November 2018

A Poem a Day (84): Splinter

Here's a poem I wrote for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website on October 27. It’s a great place to go and write whatever is in your head, and read what others are writing in the group, and give/get feedback. It happens every weekend. Cheers.


Splinter. Forage. Judder. Acknowledge.
It has been and it will be, it has passed and
You were last. I am the time ticking, the
Yellow yolk trickling, and this is the word
I wish to tell you: take. Choose this, choose
That, breathe in, breathe out. Jump when
You could stalk away. Swim when you could
Dip your toes. Embrace the roar. Sink or
Drown, will you care? Stand where you are,
The world will turn on, ignorant of your idle
Presence, insisting you carry it on alone. I am
The kick in your butt. Wake up! Smell the fish
Smoking. The burn won’t wait. Steal it. Wrap it
In paper and keep it close. These bones will shake,
Creak and croak. But you won’t know unless you

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 27, 2018

Saturday, 10 November 2018

A Poem a Day (83): Dissolve

Well, it's raining cats and frogs here, and it's so dark you'd think it was midnight, but it's only 6.20pm. The nights are closing in. Here's a poem I've just written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website. It’s a great place to go and write whatever is in your head, and read what others are writing in the group, and give/get feedback. This one is about relationships, how they start with a spark and how they unravel. A pretty straightforward one. 


It’s you, he said,
Remiss, because it was us,
The sum of our idle parts,
The remnants of our hearts,
These shields we raised,
The full cases we dragged.

All our fears and nuances,
All our curiosity and rage,
Mixed up, shaken up,
And drunk in a heady mist
Of rose-red seeping joy.
Until it wasn’t, and we
Looked at each other askew
Like strangers shaking hands,
Mumbling about the rain.

A draft of shadows caught us
Peering sideways, trying not
To be seen, to hide a frown,
In a glance of perplexity.
It’s all too complicated,
It’s all too much to try.

Life rushes in and it fades out,
Draws a line through still air,
Cries until the words dry up.
I long to throw away despair,
But I field your pain in knives,
Trying to catch them in my
Hands. Raw. Unkempt.
This book is not my own.
This record is yours.

This film? It flickers. No longer
About us. Stale popcorn, stained
Seats, ripped sheets, burned threads.
This empty vision plays still,
The actors long bored and silent.
Nothing left for an audience.

I run in circles; you pace back
And forth, cutting carpet.
To assert ourselves we leave,
Exit left into the night air.
I hail a cab and you just stare,
We drive away and you just stare.
It was never you.
It was never me.
It was us, we were, and finis.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 10, 2018