A Poem a Day (666): Coming home

 
Coming home
 
There is movement in the still,
this frozen solidity, a sense of purpose
in the way it swerves, bends, the twist of
an old, forgotten link. A lift across a wide,
barren ocean that time tried to ride out,
erase into a sepia memory on a picture card.
 
In this return, the separated seek to build,
to overcome, forgive and surmount the void,
yet removing one brick could sink it all.
A lost letter, the sealant of an unlived life,
the date-stamped bringer of re-invitation,
the only wish he could never purchase.
 
Among a draft of faces melting into one,
she waits expectantly for him to cross.
He stands still on the other side,
a broken man with a crooked gait.
Here, in the middle, a numbed sense
of dialogue seeks to open its hands.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 12, 2024

A Poem a Day (665): Coasting

 
Coasting
 
It is enough. After the want, the hard graft,
journeying in a bid to rise, the peak of hope,
expectation, only to fall into fruitless coasting,
in secondary. Yet under a stone you may find
scope, breath, being, colour and a little faith.
 
We can walk the line without treading on it,
refresh from water without it passing our lips.
This is an imaginary earth. You sink your feet in
deep, tilt your etched heartlines to the open skies,
while the heady sun shape-shifts into quiet moon.
 
The only souls we can be are ourselves when all else
is done. Do not need. This is your space, carved out by
yourself alone. Here, we shoulder the trees, lest the
burden is too heavy for some. Clouds pass slow,
gather and eject, the sleek cirrus sounding out.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 8, 2024

A Poem a Day (664): Lightning and the rock

 

I wrote this poem using a prompt from Napowrimo.net. 

 
March 31, 2021, prompt: we’d like to challenge you to spend a few minutes looking for a piece of art that interests you in the online galleries of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. Perhaps a floral collar from the tomb of Tutankhamen? Or a Tibetan cavalryman’s suit of armor? Or a gold-and-porcelain flute? After you’ve selected your piece, study the photographs and the accompanying text. And then – write a poem!
www.napowrimo.net/2021/03/

 
Lightning and the rock 
(a sculpture by Nonggirrnga Marawili) 

Lightning and the rock,
razor edge. A trick on time,
itself eaten out in stages,
a flick of tongue, span of life.
Against the sea, we erode.
 
Spit-balls of energy served by sky,
a host of aspirations true glazed,
from which we built our skeleton house,
home to the self, scribbled bones,
a betrayal of kindness. These old panes
our defence against trespass.
 
Here it breathes, this dark glass,
our fractured souls, etched so worn,
the metal withstanding pain.
It is a search for the inside
from outside, the back to front,
tilted heart, aghast, so out of tune,
snug inside this blown bubble.
 
We are staggered by the load,
the lack of fuel, the dissociation.
This steel guard with its pieces
unaligned is our body, uneven scatters of
lines, rusted spine, a sudden sweep
of everything that is, stuffed
inside the whimsical.
 
Between these lightning strikes,
this cage or safety so double-edged,
we peek out, seek to steal out,
breathe the freedom of the blue.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 3, 2024

The sculpture can be seen here: 
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search?q=CrdPackageIds%3A658

A Poem a Day (663): Too curious

 
NaPoWriMo April 2024 (www.napowrimo.net) is now over, so to carry on with these cool prompts that get your brain turning, I thought I'd look at the ones from the previous April and write using those. So here goes with Day 1. 

Prompt: take a look through Public Domain Review’s article on The Art of Book Covers. Some of the featured covers are beautiful. Some are distressing. Some are just plain weird (I’m looking at you, “Mr Sweet Potatoes”). With any luck, one or more of these will catch your fancy, and open your mind to some poetic insights.

Too curious
 
Too curious, he said, shouting us down,
too weird, too peculiar, too bold,
too stout, too tall, too small, too colourful.
 
In a word: just too…
 
Too obstinate, too opinionated, too arty,
too confident, too shy, too able, too young,
too old, too beautiful, too plain, too…
 
Too anything. And too here!
 
So we opened the door and left.

 
Vickie Johnstone, May 1, 2024