A Poem a Day (611): Birth

 
Birth
 
Just one spark.
Hardy. It battles the dark.
 
The invention of a flintstone,
glimmer of an idea, grown,
 
an unhindered orange glow.
A halo mimics the shadow’s flow,
 
dancing. It slithers non-sentient.
The icy wind bristles, impatient,
 
but you shield this spark from harm
with the curve of your palm.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 6, 2023

A Poem a Day (610): Plunge

 
Plunge

Dawn lifts on a silenced sea,
evened waves rotate on ever-slow,
an uninterrupted rhythm of sleep.
 
Without edge or arrogance,
uncut by bird or whistling wind,
a page of a book turning.
 
We are the echo in the indent,
the spine, the fold, the blank,
the motion of the echo,
 
the falling point, the plunge
between papers, the idea that loiters,
waiting to be read.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 6, 2023

A Poem a Day (609): The politician

 
The politician
 
The dragon’s breath curls, breathes fire,
caresses the moon, carves it out,
digs with its claws til nothing remains.
 
So darkness reigns. How come we didn’t
miss the sun? Why didn’t we argue? Too long
we dithered, and the hours are now lost.
 
Time flows, but now we cannot see it.
The dragon’s breath curls, and we,
we can’t breathe.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 12, 2023

A Poem a Day (608): Salt

 
Salt

We wait on the edge of Never,
eye of the storm breaking the curve.
 
Foam flicks, sprinkles our cheeks,
makes our skin bristle with tears of ice.
 
This roar is something I never can learn,
never echo, this strength in pure abandon,
 
the splicing against rock, the fierce surge,
this Never to be discovered in default.
 
Waves surge and curve, spin inside out,
while the rain plunges, unperturbed.
 
In its clear-blue wisdom it rages back,
casting doubt that our sun will ever shine.
 
Salt spits and I catch it, lick my lips, taste it.
In all my days it has never felt the same.
 
From all these places, a wealth of visitations,
it brings us news of the lost and found.
 
But we are all forgotten when the ebb subsides,
when this ardent flow resides on another shore.  
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 6, 2023

A Poem a Day (607): Flagstones

 
Flagstones 

Rainbows upon flagstones
cast lights amid blue rain’s faint splash,
sparkling streams in the bald air.
A wealth cascades. We limit darkness,
but we could still be anywhere.
 
The lift goes down, and so we travel.
Stairs range upward, so we alight.
Here, the late train speeds a single track,
eels its way over low-drawn verdant hills 
in a welcome rush of green.
 
The travelling wind caresses our framed face,
lifts all the strewn parts, recycles lives,
the essence of the inside we carry out.
We are short here. We lack distance.
But we are among the many passing through.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 6, 2023