A Poem a Day (82): The trip

Well, it’s been a while since I last posted, but it doesn't seem THAT long. End of August? Really? Blimey. That seems like yesterday.

Here's a poem I've just written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website. 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. So here is today’s splurge from my brain. Come back summer - I miss you!

The trip

It’s the slam and the yell and the scream and the

Trip and the scourge, and the want of nothing, for

Nothing remains in the fall; leaves scrawl and I

Am the shadow in the breeze caught in this ease

Of light’s passing; we know the catch of it all, this

Thunder-stricken shade of everything snapped,

Distancing the entity within, the substance scraped

Of being. They live in the emotion spent, brewing

A captive child, and yet this fear, this ache, this

Sense of nothing will survive them, and crawl inside,

Between these glass walls we build, these shells of

Ourselves; and in this belief we are snared, and in

This box we are caught, for the ever is a mighty

Long time, and never is as never wished itself to be.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, 27 October 2018

A Poem a Day (81): Portrait

A flash poem written for JD Mader's 2minutes go writingexercise... It's every Friday-Sunday, so if you fancy writing something - whatever you feel like - head over there, or just read the flash fiction and poetry.

Portrait

Sketch a simple outline,

Tracing each and every

Curve and moving angle;

Fill in the spaces in between

Lines, careful not to skim over,

Staying always inside this

Safety net. Paint it the perfect

Colour, see it real, pouring

In passion, earth and quietude.

Wait for the coming rain, the

Splash of desire for something

Outside, something new,

Beyond the now oft-dotted lines.

Step outside and relish in

A haze of multiple hues – this

Vision lifting to become you,

Wet with a layer of paint.

And then hope it stays true.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, 24 August 2018

A Poem a Day (80): the pen

Flash fiction written for JD Mader's 2minutes go writingexercise... It's every Friday-Sunday, so if you fancy writing something - whatever you feel like - head over there, or just read the flash fiction and poetry.

The pen

Pages torn, thrown into a light of spiralling

Might, incandescent streams of being; we are

Born individual, respected or adored; it is

The choices we make that define us. Bring the

Nightshade, happy in its existential knockout,

Fruitless but serene. Wake it, lest it vanish

On the back of this dying tide. Make it last,

Lest these days are but a pretence, a lie
Before the curtain drops on an empty stage.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 17, 2018

A Poem a Day (79): The catch

Flash fiction written for JD Mader's 2minutes go writingexercise... It's every Friday-Sunday, so if you fancy writing something - whatever you feel like - head over there, or just read the flash fiction and poetry.

The catch

I will keep the twisted hook

When I prise it from my flesh

Dug in deep where it rusts,

Its poison coursing through me

In a steady line. I hear it like

The ticking of the clock, slowly

Diminishing, out of time, as an

Insect crawling scours a ragged

Path. I linger. I pull. I pick. The wire

Snaps. And I watch as the hook sinks

Back inside, enmeshed, twisting,

Twisted, down.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 11, 2018

A Poem a Day (78): Morning

Flash fiction written for JD Mader's 2minutes go writingexercise... It's every Friday-Sunday, so if you fancy writing something - whatever you feel like - head over there, or just read the flash fiction and poetry.

Morning

Morning does not have your eyes,

But it keeps time more evenly.

This is the place I like to come

To sit, to speculate in the sun,

Like coffee perculating in a

Cup. Alone with my thoughts,

All else distant, as though life

Exists in a bubble.

At home the dust is mounting,

The cobwebs sprouting hair

To rival a good many beards,

Likely to house the same little

Spiders, wriggling their many

Black legs in the air.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, March 10, 2018