Showing posts with label PAD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PAD. Show all posts

Tuesday, 3 February 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (26): The whole world inside out

Oh, my first post of February! Happy February! It's a chilly one and it was snowing today brrrr. Love the snow! This one was written for JD Mader's Friday Unemployed Imagination challenge. You write whatever you like in 2 minutes and I kept taking odd words or lines from his initial story as my writing prompts. Check out his blog on Fridays :)  http://www.jdmader.com/2015/01/2-minutes-go.html


The whole world inside out

He paints it
The whole world
Inside out
Where I stand
Beneath the rain
Falling blue
Pink petals swirl
Upon this gainful air
Creating magic
Twisting, playing
A Catherine Wheel
Unlit, whizzing
For me to catch
If I can
As the world turns
Tilting
Flickering
He leads the way
With a brushstroke
This merry dance

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Saturday, 24 January 2015

A Poem a Day (22): Wanted on Voyage (Paddington Bear)

Today's poem is written for the Poem a Day challenge on Monthofpoetry.wordpress.com. The challenge is to write an erasure poem, which I've never heard of before, based on the first chapter of Paddington Bear. Here's how it works: you choose some words - however many you like - and put them into a poem. You can follow the theme of the story or write something different. 

Here are my chosen words:
humming, station, bear, suitcase old and battered, husband, unusual, brown, odd-looking hat, wide brim, black ears, good afternoon, politely, can I help you, rare, Darkest Peru, stowaway, starving, marmalade, Lucy, lifeboat, London, big place, please look after, sweet, irregular, such a hurry, Paddington, distinguished, long journey, sea water, thirsty, label, parcel, Henry, paw, best circles, jam and cream, saucer, bun, stickiest, tea, strawberry, laughing blue eyes, paws, somersaulted, funny, bath, taxi, letterbox, jolly, thirty-two Windsor Gardens, bookstall, bear.


Wanted on voyage

To the visitor, London is such a big place
With everyone seeming in such a hurry
To get somewhere, just anywhere,
Clutching suitcases old and battered,
Odd-looking hats and blowing scarves.
It’s a sight never beheld in Darkest Peru
Where everything is done in slow motion
As though wading through marmalade.

A cup of tea is as welcome as a lifeboat
On the roaring, cascading saltwater sea.
“Can I help you?” asks the jolly girl
With laughing blue eyes serving buns.
The tastiest, stickiest kind you’ll ever find,
Packed full of strawberry jam and cream,
They somersault into greedy mouths,
To be gulped down with a look of glee.

“Bring me a saucer, young Lucy, will you?”
A man cries over the top of idle chatter.
The girl turns to obey, acting sweet as pie
While avoiding the old man’s lascivious paw –
Her least favourite customer, always here.
Every single day the station is humming;
Queues of the best circles take a taxi.
It was funny how things never change.

Lucy’s favourite customer is late today.
So distinguished, he takes a long journey,
Always stopping at Paddington Station
To say “Good afternoon” with a smile.
But today he has not come, so unusual;
Where can he be in this endless swell?
Then she spies him, so rare among men,
Ever polite in that wide-brimmed hat of his.

He steps past a bookstall towards the cafe.
“How may I help you?” Lucy asks as usual.
To which he smiles. “How may I help you?”
A moment of silence and then he breaks it:
“How would you like to be a stowaway?”
“A stowaway?” she mutters, bewildered.
He smiles. “Only to the cafe across the way
For some cake if you can bear my company!”

She smiles, blushes and nods. “Just an hour,
For my break will only last that long, sir.”
“Call me Henry,” he says, “everyone does.”
With that, he takes off his hat and mock-bows.
Taken aback, Lucy calculates her break is now.
“Thank you,” she says, smoothing her apron.
“No, thank you. This will be something special –
Then I must be off to thirty-two Windsor Gardens.”

Copyright Vickie Johnstone







Wednesday, 21 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (21): Sleepers


Sleepers

Where sleepers dwell
the heart be still
glass feet
seek to tread
the deadliest path
of all
unclutter these moments
sinking beneath
only seeking to
pierce the bubble
watch it rise into
the bluest sky
I wonder why
yellow buttercups torn
upon a painted red door
fresh rain splattered
delicate petals scattered
ghostly seahorses pump air
as they cut through
distant waves
listen to them through
the shapely curve of
a salmon-coloured shell
damp sand sticks
as the moon dips
tracing starlit fingers
to chase away the breeze
now all clouds are lost
in a spraying dance of light
playing across the skies
chance fulfilled
in blissful sleep

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Tuesday, 20 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (20): Scrawled in sand


Scrawled in sand

Tip-toe these twisting lines
drawn lightly in sand
where white crabs crawl
leaving their endless scrawl
little rivulets running
of ice-cold water
when the air finally cools
flock the circling gulls
diving for fish and chips
ensnared in black and white
harmony rides the horizon
dressed in pink and purple
a sweeping crystal wave
in silken silver symmetry

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Monday, 19 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (19): Nightmare

Okay, I'm just off to bed and I think of this one. Too much cheese, perhaps?


Nightmare

Red blood, congealing
drips
seared to the bone
white
tearing the flesh
in front
of me
cold breath
travels the spine
sweeps around my
neckline
I sprint
yet I’m standing
so still
only to float
treading the air
higher
walking on nothing
barefoot slow
then plunging
down, down
past jagged rock
cobwebs flying
spiders encircling
a living net
touching my
face
crawling over
finding my mouth
inside
I cough, spitting out
as I fall
arms sweeping
forever
is only a minute
I land
sudden
in the dark pitch
heart racing
blood pounding
in the distance
something breathes
something comes
I move
travelling fast
footsteps behind me
moving quickly
haggard breathing
it is not
mine
feeling the rock
so cold and rough
my fingers trail
searching it
everywhere for a way
out
but where?
it creeping closer
I can hear it
raw gasps
a cold chill enwraps
my body
I run
ahead the rockface
closes as if
knowing
I search all over
for a way out
my hands feeling
flickering
in the dark
but nothing
my exit blocked
behind me I hear it
it’s so near
rasping breaths
I’m too scared to
turn
but it’s here
so close
I can feel it
breathing down my
neck
my hands clammy
locked together
my eyes closed
in the dark
not wanting to
see
the thing now
touching me


copyright Vickie Johnstone

Sunday, 18 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (18): Furs and stripes

Okay, I'm not sure where this one came from. Some five-minute Sunday craziness, but with a serious message. Cheers :) 

Furs and stripes

Cats in tall hats
Doggies in scarves
Nothing is achieved
Doing it by halves

Fish in pink bras
Or did you say bars?
Does it make sense
Looking out of jars?

Gnus in fancy skirts
Antelopes in heels
Am I dreaming this up?
Know how this feels?

Llamas being farmers
Pigs playing a console game
Now that bit is a true story
They can, babe – it’s not lame

Rabbits head out all fluffy
Bears dress in warm fur
This is how it’s meant to be –
Never to be worn by her

Penguins opt for sharp suits
Smarter than the naked chimps
Or so they like to think
For we know they’re no blimps

Tigers roam in orange stripes
While snakes twist and shake
Ever leaving their skins behind
On a handbag it just looks fake

Whales enhance their blue-grey
With barnacle accessories
Singing songs from the deep
Surely that’s the bees’ knees?

copyright Vickie Johnstone







Saturday, 17 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (17): Roar

I've written today's poem just now for the PAD challenge on Monthofpoetry.wordpress.com. Today's challenge is to write a personification poem, where you give human feelings or actions to an object, animal or idea. I love the sea, so mine is about that. 
How I'd love to be beside it in the sun! 
Cheers :) 


Roar

It roars and plunges
Smashing against the sea wall
Built to withstand time
Seeking to push inside
The cracks it split long ago
Crawling back, it ploughs on

Tugging at the sandy shoreline
It seeps inward, creating dips
Building bridges over pools
Wreaths of seaweed it throws
Tearing driftwood to pieces
As it polishes stones smooth

Swooping, dipping and flying
It slips, then crashes backwards
Carrying luminescent jellyfish afar
Towards the faint, blurred line
Of the pink-streaked horizon
Where a shadowy ship sails

Shivering and twisting forth
It shoots misted specks flying
Up towards dipping seagulls
Swooping down in hope to feed
Only to soar up high again
Escaping the clutch of the sea

Blown, bubbling surf bounces
Catching a fish in mid-thrall
Tosses a bright orange buoy
Always plunging and wrestling
Ever changing, ever sublime
Surging to the edge of the world

Copyright Vickie Johnstone

A Poem a Day 2015 (16): This man

Hi! Here is yesterday's poem. I was out with friends, drinking ale and by the time I got home, it did not compute to open my laptop, so I wrote it in my notebook to type up later! If it's all a bit weird, I blame the ale! :)


This man

He knows not what he thinks
This man
This sad man

He knows not how to go on
This man
This lost man

Unable to go forward
He waits
Unable to go back

Stuck in stasis
He cannot end
What never began

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Thursday, 15 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (15): His dark places (The Fall)

I'm still watching The Fall! Wasn't sure about the main character, but she's growing on me. Just watched episode 4 of series 1, and so my thoughts drift to him again and trying to fathom out that kind of psychology, which is pretty impossible. So, today's poem is about this. Cheers.

His darkest place

Deep inside the dark wood
Near an oft-running brook
Beneath the high boughs
Of an overarching tree
Sits a house on its own
Where he resides alone
Beside himself
Beside the echo

In dark places he dwells
Thriving on the lack
Of colour, heart and hope
Exhausted as these things are
Within his four walls
The mirror gives back enough
The lights too much

This is his place
Where he shares his secrets
With no one
Except her
She is his cruel vice
His darkest secret
Spun on a fantasy dreamt
Now spent
If only to relive itself

In this reality
He shifts between the walls
Like a ghost walking
A paper-thin character
Living with no resemblance
Sleeping like the dead
If only

But she knows
Carrying his darkest deeds
Locked in her head
The body bears the scars
How she yearns for a key
To escape into the light
She has not glimpsed for an age

He strides
Back and forth
Deep in thoughtless thought
His mind sweeping yet still
An empty space
Where empathy once dwelt
These floorboards creak
Crying out at his weight
Being the only sound here
Where the quiet stiffens

She knows
What it is to be silenced
Hearing steps above her head
The ever-present threat of him
Lost where she is
Sheltered, she waits
Dying by the day
His darkest secret
Enclosed beneath the boards
In the in between
A prison of the body and mind

She sinks
Not knowing whom she’ll meet
Either he or his other self
One who befriended her
One who betrayed her
Jagged is the heart
Of the one without
Shattered, she sits in darkness
Her fate long sealed
Still holding on
To the wisp of a hope
Plagued by the echo
Of his footsteps

copyright Vickie Johnstone

Wednesday, 14 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (14): Green

Green

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

copyright Vickie Johnstone