A Poem a Day (327): Pantoum – misted morning

 

Pantoum form ABCD/BEDF/EGFH/GCHA

 

 

Pantoum – misted morning

 

In the morning misted we are thankful

of the days turning in and out,

soaking our vision with sunshine’s renewal,

helping us forget what we wish to lose.

 

Here, the nights turn in and out,

and we start the day with renewed heart,

helping us forget what we choose to lose.

Draw back the curtains and let life in.

 

We start each new day with renewed heart,

breathe in the openness of transparent air,

draw back the curtains to welcome life in.

It fills this skeletal house we exist in alone.

 

Breathe in the openness of transparent air,

soak your vision with sunshine’s renewal.

It fills this skeletal house we exist in alone.

In the morning misted we are grateful.

 

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 16, 2020

 

 

A Poem a Day (314): Pantoum – precious colour

 

Pantoum: precious colour

 

We talk in shapes of precious colour,

twisted about and twisted in.

Our curse is that we feel it so,

but we can’t bring the darkness out.

Twisted out and twisted begin,

can you feel how it feels to breathe?

Here we won’t bring our darkness out

though the moon seeks to serenade us.

Can you feel how it feels to breathe,

floating in a space outside yourself,

while the moon serenades us?

She washes skies over in silver lace,

floating in a space outside yourself.

Is it our curse that we feel it so,

the skies washed over in silver lace,

as we talk in shapes of precious colour?

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 28, 2020

A Poem a Day (299): Pantoum: the language of lost words

 

This poem is about Alzheimer's, an irreversible disease that destroys memory, and our ability to use language and think clearly. Thanks.

 

Pantoum: the language of lost words

 

We have words when words

have courage to say anything,

mean something you can take away,

letters scattered idly to be found.

 

Do you lack courage to say anything?

We know not who you are,

letters falter blindly to the ground

as you morph into another mind.

 

We know not who you are

in this brief passage of time.

As you morph into another mind

we wait until you find us again.

 

In this brief passage of time,

to mean anything you can take away

we wait until you find yourself again,

have new words when old words fail.

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 13, 2020