A Poem a Day (106): Sunburn

Sunburn

Through the red dirt drag shoeless feet,

Scrawling lines. Standing small, little hands

Draw stickmen in oblong cars upon a wall,

Bare arms tea-stained by the blinking sun,

Brown freckles sprinkled liberally on noses.

A cloud-white scruff of a dog grins, hanging idle,

Head held crooked, razor tail shaking in time,

His pink drooped tongue looking to catch a fly.

Barking, he chases every drop of dust and chalk

Round and round, loping, lurching, haphazard.

The shimmer shammer of brief minutes tick by 

Like hours, waking blue glimmers of neon dragonflies, 

Aliens from a forgotten time, translucent wings

Flickering, catching an essence of light to return it

To the waiting sun.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 6/September 16, 2019

A Poem a Day (55): Dreamscape

This one's for Leland Hermit, who just told me to "pick up that PENtameter and write" when I said I wasn't feeling lyrical. So, here's the first thing that sprung to mind - some 10-minute free verse. What's it about? It's up to you :) Happy Saturday! May it be treating you well. Happy bunnies and all that.

Dreamscape

It twists

Where morning rises

Watching, barefoot

In the mind’s eye glaring

Between close spaces

A twitch

A sigh

A burrowing down deep

Where the raven cries

A sharp shrill

Breaking silence

So sad it ceases to sigh

Fulfilled anew it dances

In the shallow light of eyes

Twisting

Unable to break

Beneath the moon’s rinse -

A pure silvery light

Unshaded by the night sky

So soon to distil itself

Into a dreamscape

Snaking round sleeping souls

They drift

In drifting they wake the world

To rebegin again

In the echo of their dreams

Such a muse despairs

No longer

Twisting, it aches

It breaks to breathe anew

Where past patterns fixed

The raven takes flight

His heavy wings pumping air

Like a swimmer’s limbs

The somnambulant express

He tips, soaring

Way above the sleeping heads

And floating dreams, soundless

Snaking

It twists,

Forever twisting.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day (5): haiku

Five minute poetry...

Some haiku

Dancing silver specks

Streak the bough of the tree as

Snowflakes shiver by

Swaying to the muse,

Her internal rhythm plays

Songs only she knows

Whiskers twitching, the

Black cat makes the tiniest 

Paw prints in the snow

In the winter's eye

Upon a blanket of snow 

He pecks at the seeds 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone

A poem a day (3): Wings

The third day in my five-minute or so poetry blitz in a bid to get writing...

Wings

Vibrant wings flutter

Echoes of colour

Spread across a wave

Of ever-moving streams

With just a speck of dust

The gossamer shimmers

So fine, like cobwebs 

Woven from silk

She haunts the light

In her evening flight

Sweeping high and low

Watching, never turning

Away from this source

Of purest light

Copyright Vickie Johnstone