Saturday, 10 September 2022

A Poem a Day (537): Walk away

  
Robert Lee Brewer poetry prompt: write a refrain poem.
His poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/wednesday-poetry-prompts-624

In my early 20s, I was living with a boyfriend in southeast London. One day I received a letter, addressed to me, with my name and surname and full address and postcode. It was from a woman I'd never met, but who knew my boyfriend. She told me they were seeing each other and to stay home the next time he went to a particular club because she wanted to spend that time with him and for me not to be there. I remember she said: I'm far more woman than you. 
 

 
Walk away
 
Just because you can
doesn’t mean you should.
Think about the other woman,
think about the other man,
and just walk away.
 
There’s a relationship there,
and even if they tell you it’s doomed,
they’re involved with someone else,
so just walk away.
 
Another human is in the picture,
and sometimes a family,
so do the decent thing,
and just walk away.
 
Don’t be used by someone
to cheat on their partner or spouse.
Give them a piece of your mind
as you walk away.
 
They need to put their house in order
and not betray the one they’re with.
As Dolly once sang: “Don’t take my man
just because you can.”
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 10, 2022


 
 


Thursday, 8 September 2022

A Poem a Day (536): Combos

 
Robert Lee Brewer poetry prompt: write a combo poem.
His poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/wednesday-poetry-prompts-623
 
 
Combos
 
Bangers and mash,
fish and chips, Mork
and Mindy, Sonny and
Cher. Combos. Twos.
 
The singles were left behind.
Pairs rushed in and rang
the changes, dragged us to
attention, let us know they
 
were there, something special,
being a combo. Being a two.
They stripped the stage bare
in reinvention. Betwixt the two.
 
The singles took the front seats,
threw red roses at the end.
A blackbird sang of morning
while the world turned.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 9, 2022
 
 


Tuesday, 6 September 2022

A Poem a Day (535): Wildflowers of Solace

 
A Robert Lee Brewer poetry prompt – a ‘noun of place’ poem. His poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/wednesday-poetry-prompts-620
 
 
Wildflowers of Solace
 
Dithering on maybe, we wish awhile, wonder
where the story leads us, wishing on a mile
of things yonder as the spiky trees grow wilder,
and plants thicker, the woolly undergrowth a mix
of wild things, pouting flowers, thistles, meandering
lines of minted leaves betwixt butterflies’ wings
yawning wide, and the scent carries, inspiring bumble
bees, their sprightly buzz slipping in air like a light mower,
arcs of sunlight mosaic glinting on their gossamer wings,
this smooth lace, flickering, darting in and out of
pollen-filled horns, the gooey yellow thickness sticking
to their stripey bodies vibrating, hovering, dew delicately
balanced on all the edges, velveteen and surviving.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 6 2022


Monday, 5 September 2022

A Poem a Day (534): Out

 
Robert Lee Brewer poetry prompt – write an ‘out of time’ poem
 
 
Out
 
We’re in time,
but the sand has slipped.
It’s seeping out, exchanging
glances with the cracked glass.
 
Out of shape, out of mind,
the material sculpts itself,
becoming something larger,
too big to scoop in one hand.
 
The radio is a-buzz with words,
a steady multiplication, dishing
out broken fragments on
repeat. We’re out of time, exits
 
blocked with incoming traffic.
All messages are read, except
those that don’t echo the
propaganda machine.
 
A crab scurries quietly, all marks
buried in the sand. Still winds
blow fresh cover, like an ocean ripped.
Those who stood here are voiceless.  
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 5, 2022


Sunday, 4 September 2022

A Poem a Day (533): Companions

 
Companions 

Old Man Noble
with this ghost-string hair,
watches from the stables
where the horses gather him
in like family. He smells
of their hide, shares the same
black eyes, the steely stare.
 
He watches the moon dance in,
star stragglers in her wake.
All is silence while he hums
the memory of his yesterdays,
turning driftwood into gold.
These days are charmed for him,
not steeling the warmth within.
 
In the stables the mares nod,
sigh and shuffle beside him.
They lay down as he sleeps,
sharing their body heat.
And in the Dreaming time,
he listens to the chicken
bones sing.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 4, 2022


Monday, 29 August 2022

A Poem a Day (532): Moon

 
Moon
 
We count faces in all the spaces where faces
live, spy saddened shadows in the glass;
small facets of a likeness drawn slightly.
 
We step lightly, aware of every vibration,
where it lands, how it breathes out motion,
lip sync, lines upon lines read out loud.
 
It is the opening of all stories known, svelte,
tongue-tied and thought-melted. Congealed
hue. It makes the night ache, clouds shifting,
 
beckoning the air to follow and bow. We
applaud the moon stepping out in a fur boa
of starlit awe. She stoops to conquer the light.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 29, 2022


Thursday, 18 August 2022

A Poem a Day (531): Wild Horses

Dedicated to my mum. It's almost two years ago since she passed. Inspired by a story she once told me. 

Wild horses
 
She sees horses in the streets,
tearing down the tarmac,
silvery manes of flowing water
twisting in the wind’s hands.
 
Pale white streaks of ghosts
leaving translucent trails of light,
black eyes glistening, nostrils
flared, silent in their insistency.
 
They say the fields are full of
bodies, buried during the war,
but all she can see are the horses,
hooves pounding the ground.
 
Beautiful wild beasts racing
without a care in the world,
unreflected in windows.
How they run.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 18, 2022
 
 


Monday, 15 August 2022

A Poem a Day (530): The hour glass

 
The hour glass
 
Time and, again,
time. It seeps through the
cracks, the edges, pursuing
future, past and present,
casting waves in sand,
a leaking of sensation,
collecting, gathering days,
seconds and circumstance,
a measure of the hour,
as the glass turns,
minutes being just moments
of a life travelling to
the end.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 15, 2022


Monday, 8 August 2022

Rumours

What do you do when rumours are circulating, and have been since 2017, but they’re getting worse, and no one is asking you about it? And you’re feeling unsafe in public because strangers are making unpleasant comments or threats to you on trains or in bars or on the street since June. 

She went on a date to Reptile in November 2017 with a guy called Robin, who she met at the Ballroom. She was single and wasn’t dating anyone else. She went with him and a girlfriend. She had a good night and danced a lot. She hung out with the two of them all night and didn't notice anyone else.

On the Monday at work, a group of guys on the next desk were shouting loudly how they’d seen her at Reptile with a guy. They described what she had been wearing – denim shorts, boots, tights. They described how he looked, down to his unusual hair, and called him fat and a creep. The descriptions of her included saying she looked like a tart and acted like one because she was dancing with a man.

Some details freaked her out. And this was in the workplace. One guy said that if she saw Robin again, he’d know about it. They said she stayed for breakfast. And they described the unusual place where he lived - how could they know? And they said some other things that scared her. One guy said that if she did it again he'd know about it. This was scary. 

Lots of gossip in the office followed this, and before this event there had been months of gossip in 2017, which was really awful for her. Sometimes she worked from home to avoid it.

She ended up breaking up with Robin cos she felt like her private life had been invaded and it scared her. In her early 20s she experienced domestic violence in two relationships, and one of the guys used to follow her and check her phone, and interrogate her as to where she’d been and who she’d been seeing. Both of them hit her and cheated. Once, a neighbour called the police.

As her Facebook was public at the time, this was how the guys at work knew where she was going. They used to read out her posts in the office. So, after what they said about her being at Reptile in the office, she wrote a message saying she didn’t like to be followed because it was scary. It was because of the things they said - about her and her date, slagging them off, and describing where Robin lived, etc. She thought that only this group of people who it was relevant to would understand her message and leave her alone (she didn't know which of them it was cos she didn't see them inside the club – she only knew they'd gone cos of what they were saying on the Monday, criticising her, and they never actually spoke to her at work). She did not put anyone's name or address it to anyone in particular – she couldn’t cos she didn’t know which of them was at the club.

Since last year, she has heard a rumour that she harmed a guy who used to work at that workplace whose initials are SJ. This is untrue as she hasn’t harmed anyone. They never spoke. He used to stand and stare at her, but never spoke to her. She never did anything wrong to him. People she worked with know she didn't do anything wrong.

A colleague told her in a pub at one point that she thought SJ was involved with the receptionist. She never approached him or did anything, or try to engage with him in any way.

She went to a pub a couple of weeks ago and a woman said, "I can't believe what she did to SJ." In a station, another woman said, "Is she the one who did… to SJ?" Another said, “She is going to lose her hands.” Another said, “It isn’t rape if she’s a tart.” She has no idea what they think she’s done.

These guys accused her of being a Narcissist and spread rumours around the workplace, and then outside of work. She has never two-timed anyone or dated anyone she has known to be in a relationship as that is wrong and she’s always broken up with someone if they are two-timing. She has a lot of male friends and treats them the same as her girl friends.

She has been told there may be a photo or a video – she has never seen them. 

Tuesday, 2 August 2022

A Poem a Day (529): Numb


Numb
 
A state of being,
unbecoming.
Numb.
 
A fear of sleeping.
The bogey-man outside
your door.
 
It used to be light,
like feathers. Now you
can’t hold the weight.
 
Every walk a fine line.
Your feet precious,
your arms, your eyes.
 
Numb.
The lifeless alive,
half-living it.
 
Shapeless, things
used to form. Water
stopped mid-flow.
 
A small release with
people you love,
conversation stifled.
 
Scared when walking,
scared when thinking,
scared just being.
 
Numb. It’s four letters.
It sinks you down. Takes
your breath away.  
 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 2, 2022