A Poem a Day (85): 5 haiku

A handful of little 5-7-5 poems from Life's Rhythms.

She stands still, in tune

With the silence of the sea,

Its roar stifled for now.

Leaves hurtle, twisting,

Dropping without an echo –

Curved, their hands open.

I dance in circles,

I walk in the straightest line,

I sleep in a curve.

Eyes turn to the sun,

River of blue-black shimmers

On peacock feathers.

A moonlight whisper,

Streaks of cloud fingers twisting,

Stars glisten silver.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day (84): Splinter

Here's a poem I wrote for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website on October 27. 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. It happens every weekend. Cheers.

Splinter

Splinter. Forage. Judder. Acknowledge.

It has been and it will be, it has passed and

You were last. I am the time ticking, the

Yellow yolk trickling, and this is the word

I wish to tell you: take. Choose this, choose

That, breathe in, breathe out. Jump when

You could stalk away. Swim when you could

Dip your toes. Embrace the roar. Sink or

Drown, will you care? Stand where you are,

The world will turn on, ignorant of your idle

Presence, insisting you carry it on alone. I am

The kick in your butt. Wake up! Smell the fish

Smoking. The burn won’t wait. Steal it. Wrap it

In paper and keep it close. These bones will shake,

Creak and croak. But you won’t know unless you

Leap.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 27, 2018

A Poem a Day (83): Dissolve

Well, it's raining cats and frogs here, and it's so dark you'd think it was midnight, but it's only 6.20pm. The nights are closing in. 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. This one is about relationships, how they start with a spark and how they unravel. A pretty straightforward one. 

Dissolve

It’s you, he said,

Remiss, because it was us,

The sum of our idle parts,

The remnants of our hearts,

These shields we raised,

The full cases we dragged.

All our fears and nuances,

All our curiosity and rage,

Mixed up, shaken up,

And drunk in a heady mist

Of rose-red seeping joy.

Until it wasn’t, and we

Looked at each other askew

Like strangers shaking hands,

Mumbling about the rain.

A draft of shadows caught us

Peering sideways, trying not

To be seen, to hide a frown,

In a glance of perplexity.

It’s all too complicated,

It’s all too much to try.

Life rushes in and it fades out,

Draws a line through still air,

Cries until the words dry up.

I long to throw away despair,

But I field your pain in knives,

Trying to catch them in my

Hands. Raw. Unkempt.

This book is not my own.

This record is yours.

This film? It flickers. No longer

About us. Stale popcorn, stained

Seats, ripped sheets, burned threads.

This empty vision plays still,

The actors long bored and silent.

Nothing left for an audience.

I run in circles; you pace back

And forth, cutting carpet.

To assert ourselves we leave,

Exit left into the night air.

I hail a cab and you just stare,

We drive away and you just stare.

It was never you.

It was never me.

It was us, we were, and finis.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 10, 2018