A flash poem written for JD Mader's 2minutes go writing exercise... It's every Friday, so if you fancy writing something - whatever you feel like - head over there, or just read the flash fiction and poetry.
There's a story behind this one. I started a poetry course yesterday as my writing needs a bum kick and I was chatting with two of the women in the class at the end. We challenged each other to write a poem for homework, giving each other a line. I was given the final line of this poem to use. So this is what I just came up with.
Fifty-six
The
night sighs heavy when it stops to think,
The curve
of the light a distant cousin,
The nail
in the wall a reminder of hate;
It creaks,
This going
forward, always coming back –
A tortured
walk is this half-dazed oblivion,
Yet I
seek it
Or it
seeks me,
Day in,
day out, week in, weak doubt.
I like
to remind it not to be late,
Not to
forget to close the door behind it,
And so
it is,
This creeping
remembrance lost
Of my
selfish conscience,
Flapping
like a dried-out fish…
Obsolete.
I like
the sound of obsolete.
I can
trick myself I’m nothing like,
Yet I can
see,
I have
eyes,
Two of
them,
Though
this vision of me blurs still –
A twitch
at the sides of a smile says so,
This tortured
style of mine.
But tell
me this:
Did you
think of me today or wonder
Who I indulged
these languid hours with?
I was
alone, but you won’t know this,
You never
ask.
But you’re
always here, waiting,
Sucking the
bar dry until I reappear
To
accompany you between the butts,
Breathing
the smoky lungs we share,
Reminiscing,
laughing, choking
On our
fears, always bigger than us.
And so
today I will retell a joke or two,
Watch your
grin creep up into a drawn bow.
You know
I value these simple hours,
You know
I’ll always come back,
Dragging
my half-spilled bloody baggage,
Bearing
my very bones for observation,
Knowing you
will never be my judge –
I came
for a half and I got a hug.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, January, 12, 2018
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