Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts

Saturday, 13 April 2024

A Poem a Day (641): NaPoWriMo Day 13 - The note

 
Day 13

Prompt: play with rhyme. Start by creating a word bank of 10 simple words of one or two syllables. Five should correspond to each of the five senses (i.e., one word that is a thing you can see, one word that is a type of sound, one word that is a thing you can taste, etc). Three should be concrete nouns and the last two should be verbs. Now, come up with rhymes for each of your 10 words. Use as much sound play in your poem as possible. www.napowrimo.net


The note
 
In the time it takes to read this note,
I’ll be gone.


In the time it takes your fist to crush it,
I’ll already be on the first bus out of town.


In the time it takes to check my wardrobe,
I’ll be holding out my hand at another bus stop.


In the time it takes to check my drawers,
I’ll be running with my bags to the railway line.


In the time it takes for realisation to set in,
I’ll be calming my breath as the late train leaves.


In the time it takes for you to grab your keys,
I’ll be blocking whole memories out of my life.


In the time it takes for you to lock the door,
I’ll be planning a route you can never guess.


In the time it takes for you to start your car,
I’ll be praying slashed tyres won’t take you far.


In the time it takes for you to throw a punch,
I’ll be promising that no more will land on me.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 13, 2024


Saturday, 20 June 2020

A Poem a Day (183): Rotten apple

Rotten apple 

Did you even try to find out
The person she really is
Before landing the first punch?

The first bite of the rotten apple
You offered on a plate of fake love.
Charismatic and alive, supportive
At first, appearing more than you are.

You buried her alive in her devotion,
Made her beg for your attention,
Twisted things so she’d doubt her reality,
Interrogating her from the inside out.

You didn’t want her to seek shelter.
You didn’t want her to speak to anyone
Beyond the fence of your control.

Her failure to leave was weakness to you,
Intensifying your disgust of her.

You only wanted to lock her in this box
Where no one could ever find her,
And only you would hold the key.

You wanted her to be afraid
So you’d never be alone.

She moved two times to escape you,
Still stalked by this rotten inside,
Burying this shame, this guilt, confusion
Down deep in a place she could not see.

Today you’re just a ghost from her past,
A passing figment, a blurred murmur.
She lives and breathes and recalls,
But you don’t shape her, not at all. 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 20, 2020


This week I read how the Phoenix Act passed into law in California this year, giving victims of domestic violence ten years to report, rather than only three. Many victims are too traumatised to report and it can take years to recover, if at all. This act is due to the efforts of Evan Rachel Wood, a DV survivor.