7 of my books are free in the Smashwords Sale

 
Happy New Year everybody. Whatever you are doing to celebrate, have a lovely time, and lots of good luck for 2022. This year was a difficult one, so I hope that next year is better for everyone.

I have some books for free in the Smashwords End of Year Sale! So happy reading.

Kiwi's Christmas Tail

Fur, magic, thrills and comedy moments fill this fantasy adventure set over Christmas, involving a star, a fairy, a witch, some catizens and Santa. Amy, James and their magical cat, Kiwi, must rescue a fairy from the clutches of an evil witch before Christmas Eve when Father Christmas will return. Set in the human world, Cat City and Santa's Grotto. For ages 8-99.

A Poem a Day 

A collection of 446 poems, written between April 2020 and March 2021. 

The Sea Inside

A fantasy adventure about fate versus free will. Can you bend time or will it break? A diving accident leaves Jayne paralysed. As she battles to regain her strength, she finds herself alone in a parallel world. The crystal seems a bringer of good until her world shatters again. Then Jayne will face a series of trials to find her heart's desire, helped by a fantastical guide. For ages 9-99.

3 Heads & a Tail 

When nature lover Josie moves into a house share with two pals, dreamer Ben and model man David, she doesn't bank on an attraction developing. Meanwhile, Ben's dog, Glen, has the hots for Miss Posh, the beautiful Lab in the park. When dog meets dog it's puppy love, but a complication leads to Glen taking matters into his own paws. 

"Laugh out loud funny" - Donna Brown.

Day of the Living Pizza 

Detective Smarts of Crazy Name Town has a problem. Doctor Boring has been bumped off, and the only clues at the scene are some olives, tomatoes, mushrooms and a sprinkle of oregano. With the townsfolk dropping like flies and Pizza Dudes stumbling down the streets, Officer Dewdrop has an idea.

Life's Rhythms

Old meets new in this collection of 316 haiku, composed in the traditional pattern of three lines with 5-7-5 syllables. Subjects include: nature, life, food, animals, loss, love, longing, hope, the seasons, dreams and time.

Mind-spinning Rainbows

A collection of 109 poems and 45 haiku, divided into two sections: light and shade.

The link: www.smashwords.com/profile/view/vixie

A Poem a Day (485): Tabby cat

 
All summer we have a series of cats who cross the fence in our garden, travelling through. They come and go, and we’ve even had one cross our roof. But in the winter months they seem to be wisely staying inside – except that is for Mr Tabby, who continues to stride around slowly, like he owns the place.
 
Tabby cat
 
Mr Stripe takes passage through a stranger’s garden,
follows a zig-zag path down a stranger’s garden,
climbs walls and navigates fences, sniffing his larder.
 
With the air of a king, he strides, nose in air,
oblivious to friend or foe, he stalks, nose in air,
taking a pleasant Sunday stroll without a care.
 
He’s streetwise around cars, crossing the road fast,
looking from left to right, he runs the road fast,
saving his fancy park promenade right until last.
 
Today he’s on the shed roof, looking back at me.
With a wash of his paw, he stares right back at me.
I open a can of tuna and he charges, straight as a bee.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 30, 2021

A Poem a Day (484): Red fox

  
Red fox
 
A sleek red fox sneaks between parked cars,
this hungry fox hides behind sleeping cars.
As people drive by he hides himself fast.
 
It’s cold out here where he lives and sleeps,
the temperature’s dropping as he sleeps,
shivers in the cold and the cold world weeps.
 
Tiny stars light the way for the moon’s crossing,
stars shed a crystal carpet for the moon’s crossing.
Black sky receives a dazzling, sparkling frosting.
 
A burnt orange hide slinks through the snow,
fiery red coat bobs right through the snow.
Fox sniffs the way ahead. He has far to go.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 26, 2021

Cats for Christmas?

Cats for Christmas? This is my 6-book series starring a magical cat who turns her human pals into kittens and takes them on adventures to Cat City & other places, including a sea world, a haunted house, Santa's Grotto, the Land of Giant Mice & Ancient Egypt. Furry fun for ages 7-77. The books are available as ebooks or paperbacks.

Book 6 is all about Christmas... starring Santa, a witch, a star and a fairy in the run-up to Christmas Eve.

Purchase links:

US Amazon

UK Amazon

Smashwords

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Kiwi's Christmas Tail is free in the Smashwords Christmas Sale

If you fancy a tale about a magical cat turning her two humans into kittens to have an adventure in Cat City and Santa's Grotto in the sky, head over. A star asks Kiwi for help in finding his friend, a fairy, who was kidnapped by a witch after they fell out of Santa's sleigh. Funnily, the witch finds herself in Cat City at one point, surrounded by cats - which she dislikes just as much as children.

It's only free on Smashwords and just for a limited period of time.

Link: Smashwords

Gifts wrapped & 4 more haiku

Some Christmas poems from last year! Have a lovely Christmas Eve. 

Gifts wrapped, stockings filled,

a cheeky glass of champers

while the kids sleep tight.

 

 

Frosted fingers twist

embroidered patterns floating.

Silver lace sparkles.

 

 

Rudolph polishes

his nose, dusts his coat and hooves.

It’s the Big Day Out.

 

 

Bouncing over clouds,

Claus steers the sleigh downwards-sky,

chortling. White beard blows.

 

 

The turkey takes off,

farmer falls face flat. Wings stretch.

“You’re not cooking me!”

 

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 21, 2020 

 

 

In the YouTube series of me reciting my poems, here I am reading out these haiku: 

 

Thanks to Graham Fraser for organising this YouTube series.

 

A Poem a Day (483): Christmas Eve beers

 
Christmas Eve beers
 
Fresh snow lay heavy, you could hear it crunch,
this white body heavy, hear its echo and crunch,
as our feet sludged, warmed by Christmas punch.
 
The pub’s laughter and chatter followed us out,
fairy lights shimmered and merriment saw us out,
remembering the conversations of our last shout.
 
Snow cascaded round us like twists of soft felt,
falling shapes shifting and spinning like soft felt.
We held out gloved hands to watch them all melt.
 
A red robin on a low branch sang our praises,
a bobbing red robin chirped out our praises,
as we traversed the forest’s glistening mazes.
 
The big full moon threw a spotlight on our way,
full moon glowing in a starry night lit our way,
as we merrily looked out for Santa’s sleigh.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 23, 2021
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A Poem a Day (482): White

 

White

 

In deep-set snow we trudge out,

feet evicting cracking sounds

as the ground speaks out to us,

whispering the secrets of the trees,

stretched high to the darkening sky.

Night whistles in early, striding over,

dusting a sparkling sweep of stars.

We watch the crossing of a lone deer,

stopping once to sniff the chill air,

a magnificent creature of silence.

Our feet sink into this snowy world,

the crispness echoing all around.

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 17, 2021

A Poem a Day (481): Dew

 
Dew
 
We devour the line
and in killing time
come to depend
on one another.

Reason lit confounds,
gives vision to sound,
rustles up new words to
describe the everyday.

This is the essence of
play, of removal,
of being in the moment
already passed.

We wait for morning,
count the dew
settling and reflecting
our own skin.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 24, 2021

A Poem a Day (480): Idle days

 
Idle days

 
We dream of warm days.
The scent of idleness
brushes us by, renewing
energies we thought lost.
 
We pigeon our dreams away,
franked and labelled neatly,
message them to runaways
and open them in stealth.
 
We are dreamers lost and dreamt,
woken in fields of our minds,
creating ever-new patterns
and words we’ll use just once.
 
This is how we paint our days,
eye the slither of grease & wet
the deep slide on to canvas
of oils molten in our hands.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 22, 2021
 
 

A Poem a Day (479): Whale song

 
Whale song
 
Down in the deepest depths, his berth,
swallowed whole by the elements
in this bluest of cages sunk down,
beneath the echoes of all things.
 
We listen through the silences,
the blind moan of the world below,
in the sheer vale of distance,
listen for the dawn of his song.
 
It drifts out, down, between oceans,
journeying the currents without him
while he lies suspended and still,
smaller life in sacred awe.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 13, 2021

A Poem a Day (478): Pumpkin man (a Villanelle)

Pumpkin man (a Villanelle)
 
He is the pumpkin man
carving out teeth and eyes,
doing all he possibly can
 
to be ready for Sanhain,
a time of spirits and sighs.
He pours the leftovers in a pan,
 
a buzzy orange mix. Dan
is his name. With a disguise,
the heads look almost human.
 
These pumpkins, how they sang
aloud without any cares.
They were his number one fan.
 
At midnight away they all ran
while Dan baked pumpkin pies,
gingerbread and pecan flan.
 
He is the pumpkin man,
carving out teeth and eyes,
doing all he possibly can
to be ready for Sanhain.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 30, 2021

New release: A Poem a Day (poetry book)

I have a new book release (the first since 2015!). It's a poetry book called A Poem a Day.

It's a collection of 446 poems, written between April 2020 and March 2021. In April 2020, I decided to try to write a poem a day on my blog, Vixie’s Stories, following prompts on NaPoWriMo.net. The following month I kept going.

It has been published on Amazon. It's also on Smashwords (which will soon distribute it to places like Barnes & Noble).

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B6CPVKD

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09B6CPVKD

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1095735

A Poem a Day (477): Suspended

I've posted this one on JD Mader's writing website, Unemployed Imagination. Head over there this weekend to write about or read any topic you like - it's all at 2minutesgo. 

Suspended
 
Suspend disbelief
without strings or nets
to catch the worthy traveller,
seek him in disarray.
 
We outlive colour,
dream of how it mixes
faces and odd scenarios,
whips up an idle scream.
 
This is the fulfilling time
where harm ran amock,
spilt wine on the floor
and forgot to close the door.
 
But we survive all endings,
refigure how they evolved,
seeking closure in murmurs
of conversations we’ve lost.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 16, 2021

A Poem a Day (476): Winter blues

 
 
This week in my poetry class we had to write a blues poem. Lines 1 and 2 are the same, but can have small differences, and line 3 rhymes with them both. 

Winter blues
 
In the heart of winter the earth is silent,
in the beat of winter the earth lies silent.
trees skim broken, the sky darkly rent.
 
Old Man Withers drags his heavy legs,
Old Man Withers shifts his weary legs,
ignoring how his faithful Alsation begs.
 
The earth snow solid crunches under foot,
the earth breathes and crunches under foot,
this white chilled hand concealing every root.
 
A robin hops, spreads his wings and flies,
a robin chirps, unfurls his wings and flies.
At the turn of spring is when winter surely dies.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 9 2021
 

A Poem a Day (475): She likes to mix it up

 
She likes to mix it up
sometimes, share her heart
on a leaf of paper read,
scribbled on with her name.
It is eager to reveal itself,
being unique and well formed.
This is where it lays its head,
opens its arms in the spread.
It is only one person here,
standing still against the cold,
the sun has dripped away
behind the cloudy silent screen.
It’s a pattern she knows
while she waits for the stars
to empty out their souls
til there is nothing but dust.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 25, 2021

A Poem a Day (474): Erosion

 
Erosion
 
Two went out
but only one returned.
 
He trips on fault,
refusing to say a word.
 
Lost among giants
towering over landscapes
 
ripped and engineered
by erosion’s hands.
 
They say prayers at night,
wondering where she is,
 
begging for a little help
where silence now lives.
 
We see her face online,
smiles for the camera,
 
so carefree and happy.
Where could she be?
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 16, 2021

A Poem a Day (473): Feathers

 
Feathers 
 
Feathers turn on the air,
burrow in the upflift
fluttering, these precious things,
the barest feel of touch
spinning. A white glow.
Breezes take them skyward
as if to connect with the stars,
breathe as high as the moon.
Scant traces of being
blown away and now lost.
Not feathers but people
falling.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 11, 2021

A Poem a Day (472): Rivulets

Rivulets 
 
These pungent colours pack a punch,
run in single rivulets searching,
 
find solace in the in between,
the evidential stop and start.
 
It’s the flow until the end,
a delicate line drawn underneath
 
this elevation to ardour,
a pretence we no longer have.
 
Take watch of eagles in flight,
the soar and the silver arch,
 
the dip in a separated sky,
once launched, floating on high.
 
We draw our hands together,
turn our palms up to the sun
 
collecting its beaten yolk rays.
It seeps through our fingers.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 11, 2021

A Poem a Day (471): Visions

Visions
 
Visions of perfected pages,
light curls paper edges.
 
This slow burn unfolding,
it snarls and ignites,
 
a stammer withheld,
flames in flight like birds,
 
feathers spread in a fan.
We lift on the backdraft,
 
our arms in suspension,
an umbrella of curves,
 
the cosmic overseer.
We are lifted up and out.
 
The drop is not so far,
this fire all enduring.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 9, 2021

A Poem a Day (470): Safe

 
Safe
 
Is it a luxury to feel safe in this world?
When things spill over
we feel them slip between our fingers.
We feel fear like a cold breath,
something dig into the pit of our stomach,
making us feel sick to the core.
If you no longer feel safe,
how can you feel safe in this world?
How can you pick up your life?
If you no longer feel safe,
how can you ever feel safe again?
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 5, 2021

A Poem a Day (469): Lost voices

 
Lost voices
 
Today they banned women’s voices,
silencing them on the radio waves

and the world of the silver screen.
All these disappearing women.

They’ve already banned mixed-sex ed
and any males teaching females.

The advice is to stay in your own home
because it’s no longer safe on the street.

How will these women learn to exist
without voice, identity or presence?

 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 30 2021

A Poem a Day (468): Is this what they fought for?

Is this what they fought for?
 
Is this what they fought for,
this horror, this collapse?
 
We see the end approaching,
fearing the form it will take,
 
the meaning for the future,
scrawling out all hope.
 
Devastation and aggression
amidst a mass silencing.
 
Men, women and children
left to fend for themselves.
 
Impossible to save them all,
impossible to let them fall.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 21, 2021

A Poem a Day (467): Silenced

 
Silenced
 
We speak for those who are silenced,
the men, the women, the children.
We hope our voices are strong enough
to rise above the chaos, the magnitude.
We read of those fleeing, making a run,
the lost, the homeless, the hopeless.
We sit in empathy, unable to rise,
just reading and watching in horror.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 20, 2021

A Poem a Day (466): Feathers

 
Feathers
 
 
This is where the world drops off,
no longer thinking what to do
 
or what to say while feeling fine.
We stop at signposts to giving,
 
knowing how we live is forwards.
They drop shields to brace ourselves
 
against the coming torrent, the waste
that doesn’t know itself is true.
 
They throw feathers in the silence,
speak of legends lest they breathe again,
 
bring it all around in a giant circle,
a wheel calling fortune round the curve.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 9, 2021

A Poem a Day (465): That summer (a found poem)

 
On the poetry day course I did a week ago, one of the exercises was to compose a found poem. This was by cutting random lines out of a magazine and assembling them into a poem. You get some really abstract results. Here’s one. 

That summer (a found poem)

I was born the summer she died,
but couldn’t leave the country,
could only be temporary.
Father was one of the last of that generation,
doubling and quadrupling,
but it wasn’t fun any more.
You wanted to drop the glam,
to make a record everyone hated.
We could experiment,
wrote brilliantly together
to create something new,
suffer for good art,
a pretty good second bite.
He was like a bad luck charm,
looks back at a rollercoaster
Street Poetry album.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 8, 2021

A Poem a Day (464): Loud (a found poem)

 
On the poetry day course I did a week ago, one of the exercises was to compose a found poem. This was by cutting random lines out of a magazine and assembling them into a poem. You get some really abstract results. Here’s one. 

Loud (a found poem)
 
Loud and exhilarating,
There was a space,
The right time.
Communal effort,
Throaty roar.
Be modest,
A swagger really.
Communion morphed.
It had that old seventies feel.
Everybody heard it,
Treading water.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 7, 2021

A Poem a Day (463): Brighton lines

 
Brighton lines
 
A girl with a blue bag
beneath Brighton Pier in words,
moonlight reflected in the waves
waking the edge of the beach.
She walks purposefully drawn,
her focus on the moistened sand,
boots sinking, white seagulls silent,
sunlight long wrestled away.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 6, 2021

Billy Johnstone is playing Wild on the Wall this weekend

My uncle, Billy Johnstone, will be playing our songs at the Wild on the Wall festival this weekend. You can catch him on the Acoustic stage at 6.30pm on Saturday. 

Here is the link for more details: www.facebook.com/wildonthewall

Check out Billy, his music and our songs on my blog here: vickiejohnstone.blogspot.com/p/billy-johnstone-music.html

Cheers :) 

A Poem a Day (462): Breakwater

Breakwater
 
We listen to the breakwater,
how it rises, the crescendo,
reckon on this even distanced beat,
the remembrance, the recall
of something other loosening time,
dizzy in the make believe below,
the rush and the hush dispersing,
the ebb and flow of truth.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 5, 2021

Books to read starring dogs

 

Looking for books to read starring dogs?

Smashwords is running a special promotion of doggie books -

https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/shelf/dog-days-of-summer

#dogs #reading #Smashwords #books #animals

A Poem a Day (461): Marilyn (a found poem)

On the poetry day course I did on Saturday, one of the exercises was to compose a found poem. This was by cutting random lines out of a magazine and assembling them into a poem. You get some really abstract results. Here’s one I did today. 
 
Marilyn (a found poem)

The clue’s in the name.
All of a sudden I’m back to normal
after Marilyn Monroe died.
I wasn’t as out of it,
narrow-minded and intolerant.
It was so powerful, almost punk,
wallowing in my misery.
Summers in the countryside –
really creative, chopping wood.
He’s walking now,
just a pretty face,
the real deal.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 4, 2021

Poem of the Day #102 - 2.8.21 - Fifty million plastic beads

Thanks to Graham Fraser for organising this series. 

This is Graham’s blog, Tales from the Grey Side, about poems and comics, and whatever is on his mind. He has a few series on YouTube about beer, walkies during lockdown, and music:

Thegreyman channel

Walkies during lockdown 

Beer Guys

BloggyDay

Poem of the Day #101 - 1.8.21 - Death of a bluebell wood

Thanks to Graham Fraser for organising this series. 

This is Graham’s blog, Tales from the Grey Side, about poems and comics, and whatever is on his mind. He has a few series on YouTube about beer, walkies during lockdown, and music:

Thegreyman channel

Walkies during lockdown 

Beer Guys

BloggyDay

A Poem a Day (460): A star

A star
 
Here we are, set upon a star,
the beginning of a shimmer,
a phantom thing almost.
We are not here to scold
or pull the vision apart.
Silver dust is the glue between.
It holds while the whole rocks,
configured in motion to weave
strips of matter from nothing,
to add sparkle where all was bare.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 2, 2021

A Poem a Day (459): This hidden meaning

 

I'm doing a poetry course today, part of which was to do some automatic writing. Here is one result of that. It's also the weekend, which means it's time for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing exercise on his blog, Unemployed Imagination. So head over to his website to read, write or comment. Cheers and happy writing :) 

This hidden meaning
 
We are wont to speak outside of cages,
outside the pressure of our minds.
We are spent where we stand.
We are pages ripped out and tossed
without question, the vowels + consonants.
We are sounds inside these spaces,
the rich strands of it all put together.
Life spills forth out of the edges,
seeking a stage to assert itself upon.
But where is the hidden meaning?
We wear it inside, turn it outside,
this eternal signal to everyone:
here I am. We are standing here,
making a point of being, of breathing,
ripped from wombs, all so unique.
We are the mix-up, the mishmash,
the dreams we envelop sometimes.
We are the trees that breathe anew,
summoning colours in the dark.
We spill forth, rattling our cages,
being all we can stand to be.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 31 2021