A Poem a Day (100): Friday

This was written for 2minutesgo. 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.

Friday

The morning cared

In never mourning;

Starlit little eyes,

Watery lips of dew.

A pillow full of air,

Dawn alights.

In waking we fulfil

The slightest space apart,

A restless vision

Without eyes.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 2, 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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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

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

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

Leap.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 27, 2018