A Poem a Day 2015 (42): haiku from Life's Rhythms

Hi, here are some old poems of mine, published in Life's Rhythms. I just had the best pizza and cocktails from Aces & Eights in Tufnell Park! Recommended. Happy Tuesday! :)

Rain fallen like stars

Sprinkles silver-like touches,

Dancing beside me

Some distant day she’ll

Return when she sees beauty

In a rainbow sing

Under sparkling stars

She laughs like water cascades

Rippling endlessly

Raspberries blood red

Ripe, soft and so succulent

Chilled ice-cream slithers

In the dry still heat

The lizard basks, eyes aloft

Watching out for lunch

Eyes turn to the sun,

River of blue-black shimmers

On peacock feathers

Leaves hurtle, twisting,

Dropping without an echo –

Curved, their hands open

copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day 2015 (41): 3 haiku

It's 3 little haiku today! So need to get my head around writing novels... think I may have had a bit of a block over this last year. It's just been poems and little flash fiction bits. Anyone in the same boat?? Can we find an oar? Or a bigger boat?

Paws of black and white

Padding with a hop and bounce

More like a bunny

(Yep, that one's about my darling kitty! She does run that way)

Striped socks, silver tree

Heart-shaped glass whispers to me - 

Tells me to be free

Horizons beckon

Where these wings take to the sky

Stuff of endless dreams

copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day 2015 (40): There is nothing to say #antibullying

Someone asked me recently why I wrote this one, back in March, and I think it was to end the stigma. I'd been talking to a friend about the subject and we had it in common. I've met soooo many people who've experienced bullying yet it's like a dirty secret no one wants to broadcast and why should they? It's a confidence stealer and everyone wants to feel good about themselves, not crap. But if we shouted it from the rooftops, could we change it? I still read in the media about teenagers committing suicide because of bullying, feeling they had no one to turn to. If we could end the stigma and talk about it, and take it seriously and do something about it, perhaps more people would be saved and fewer lives would be damaged. 
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A poem written for JD Mader's #2minutesgo challenge on his website, Unemployed Imagination. As usual, the title and prompt is from a line in his first story, although ironically there is a lot to say on this subject. 

 http://www.jdmader.com/2015/03/2-minutes-go_27.html#comment-form

This one is on a subject I feel strongly about and I'll never understand: bullies and slanderers. 

Like many people I've met in life, I experienced and saw bullying in my secondary school, and the teachers did nothing about it - one teacher turned a blind eye while another joined in by laughing, which basically was support for the bullies. Yep, it's hard to understand that choice. Luckily, I think this is changing as people become more aware of how destructive bullying can be, and teachers and parents should explain why it is wrong to kids.

But then kids are kids. Later they grow up and it's adult bullying for which there really is no excuse. I don't get it. Are they the school bullies who never grew out of it? What is missing in their life that they want to destroy someone else's, which is basically the end result. Is it because bullying gives their life meaning or they love the drama? Or do they enjoy watching someone else sink? 

Couldn't they find themselves a hobby instead?

What kind of person orchestrates the ruin of someone they don't even know? And what kind of person then follows the bully and does exactly the same thing? Do they find it fun? Is it a game to them? If the bully/slanderer actually knew the psychological and physical impact on their "prey",
would they stop? I'd like to think so, but it seems empathy, sympathy and just plain kindness aren't universal. 

There is nothing to say (that hasn't been said before)

Nothing left to say

Or do

If no-one asks

You cannot defend

The sun sets

Upon nothing

An emptiness creeping

From anger seeping

A stasis

Substance stopped

An effigy

Of the person blinds

Living in denial

In a bid to ignore

Each and every day

The things heard

The things spread

The lies

Burning like a candle

Carried like a mantle

Dying in forever

Drifting on the wind

The words

Carried far

Until despair lingers

Turning light to dark

White to grey

Stealing hope

Confidence even

Without grace

No one asks

No one questions

Lifts a mirror up

To stark reality

Or even stops to think

It might not be true
Aggressively joining
The feeding frenzy
Without a care
Or a second thought

To ask is too easy

And would deny

The rumour maker.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day 2015 (39): If I leave

Yet another poem written from a prompt on JD Mader's Friday 2minutesgo challenge. I think this one took more than two minutes - say five to ten. Cheers :)

If I leave

If I leave will you follow

Way out there into the dark,

Where the world weaves

Its own deceptive light?

Is it better to disappear

Altogether while you sleep,

Or to tell you all these things

I’ve kept so close so long?

Will the time come anyway?

Will the ending be the same?

In these seconds I can see

My decisions flow in clarity,

See the real and the unreal,

Opposites, standing side by side

But then the moment turns,

Fast unravelling and I am lost

As the ebb and flow of things

Floods every decision I make

If I seek to win will I lose?

If I mind to lose will I win?

In this game we seek to play

Are we deceiving ourselves

While the Fates grin and bear

Each and every mistake of ours?

Closing the door softly, I leave

To step upon a spread of snow,

Beneath flakes falling like my veil

Into this tangled dark I know.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Goodbye Winter, Hello Spring #bloghop #giveaway

Hello, and welcome to a hop welcoming in the Spring. On this hop, a bunch of writers are giving away books, swag and gifts galore, and they'll be posting stories and other interesting things. Just click on the links at the bottom to hop to the other blogs. Cheers and have fun! I'm so glad Spring is around the corner... bye Winter, brr, hello bunnies, boing! :)

First, here's a poem for Spring (previously posted on this blog)

Dragonfly

In this greenest of grass

Where the cracked ivy winds

Ever searching to burrow

Buttercups nod to the sun

This blaze of egg-yolk yellow

Set in a wash of purest blue

Here, in the mind’s eye

The imagination runs wild

A neon-blue dragonfly

Flits delicate gossamer wings

Whirring to create a current

Of moving air to play upon

Against nature’s own breeze

These valleys dive deep below

Verdant fields of lowing sheep

Unrestrained by fences

Wandering as free as they will

Bowing to the buttercups bobbing

Where the dragonfly hums

Now for the giveaway - 

I've published 15 books and I'm giving away the following prizes -

Winner - ebook copies of The Sea Inside, I Dream of Zombies, Kiwi in Cat City, Day of the Living Pizza and 3 Heads & a Tail. If you like poetry, I'll happily throw in one of those too.

Runners-up - 5 people will win an ebook of their choice.

To win, all you need to do is enter the Rafflecopter competition below - Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Here are the other participating blogs in the hop - click and go! Thanks for visiting! 

Flash fiction 5: the waiting #2minutesgo

Hi! Today, I'm posting a little bit of flash fiction that I wrote for JD Mader's 2-minute writing challenge. It's on his blog, Unemployed Imagination, every Friday if you fancy a go. As usual, I took my writing prompt from his first story - 'the waiting had almost killed him'. Cheers.

The waiting had almost killed him

Waiting. Always waiting. He checked his watch. Almost on the hour. The time drew near. Wet roses. Waft of lemons. Soft plaintiff breath on the air. So cold. He felt it. Just there. Almost a hand’s grip away and then it swerved. A dumb call, lost in the quiet. Except for those deep, even breaths. Then nothing. Almost as quickly, it dispersed, trickling away around the corners, into the walls, hiding. He moved, tasting his own fear in his mouth. That metallic, cold and hard. His own breathing rushed like water through his ears, his muscles tensing. It called him. Always now. Around the hallway into the dim light. Candles lit the way, newly lighted. His welcome greeting to her. When she made it, he would follow. If she could escape the nightmare. Her life. The hallway twisted, altering perspective, pulling the ground up to the heights, and his heart leapt into his throat as the shadow shifted upon the walls. Flickering in the candlelight. Shimmering. Vague as the night. Lithe as the air. She danced in the in between.

copyright Vickie Johnstone 

A Poem a Day 2015 (38): The smell of sour

Another one written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo Friday challenge on his blog. I took 'The smell of sour' from his first story as a prompt. Cheers :)

The smell of sour

She’d smelt it all her life,

the rusted scent

of strewn dust,

making it all melt.

This stench lifted,

curling like old paint,

wet to the touch,

bitter to taste.

It followed her

in a cloud of waste,

this reminder of old.

When it sounded,

this ancient bell,

the heady mariner

came carrying his shroud,

bereft of any knowledge

of its meaning.

In silence he drifted

into the outer realms

where the dead pound

ageless and unborn,

their endless ache.

He lies without

breath or word,

as silent as the sea

turned sour.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day 2015 (37): The wish #2minutesgo

Oops, I haven't posted a poem since February 26th! It doesn't seem that long ago, so time has flown. Since then I've taken a trip up to visit my family and celebrated my birthday, which seems to have extended over the week. It's times like these when you're reminded how truly amazing your friends and family are. Life's treasures. Here's a 2-minute poem in which I imagined a young girl going through experiences not so simple or pleasurable. We've all been there. It was written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo Friday challenge on his blog - check it out :) - http://www.jdmader.com/2015/03/2-minutes-go_13.html 

The wish

She made a wish

in the time of sorrow

for every tomorrow

to end

not with a sigh

or a whimper

or an itch

but a scream

mightier than thunder

as overwhelming

as the greatest word

ever said

as mind-blowing

as the purest calm

this open hand

reaches outwards

upturning as a leaf

curving into her

with a caress

 soundless and strong

qualities she envied

without guilt

lost as she was

in this winter

of her budding life