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Callum Scott Johnstone

of

Oxford, England, UK

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For Those That Worry...

by

Callum Scott Johnstone

As the air I breathe turns to consuming fire,
I will never be afraid, nor ever tire.
For though my body, as the soil, seems frail,
We all have the same fate; we all entail

And though we may never know or see it now
Nor ever work out the where, when, why or how,
We can guarantee today, though tomorrow
May never be; but there’s no need for sorrow.

We may not be ready, armed or prepared
And no reason is seen for us to be scared.
Our hearts may bleed, but with no real water
For those who need their ever-loving daughter;

All may seem lost and no hope found,
But this is not new, needed or profound.
For as we cry for the Earth in all its forms,
We all know our fate, for it has been sworn.


Short Love

by

Callum Scott Johnstone

Two lips on the rose
As sweet as new wine
Tulips on the rise
To sweeten divine

Today’s tomorrow blessed
As waiting becomes pain
Two day’s sorrow possessed
As weight consumes, as rain


The Four Stages Of...

by

Callum Scott Johnstone

Loneliness, a state of sadness
Where even friends stray apart,
And insect relied on the flower
The flower has gained a hard heart.

Emptiness, progressed from loneliness
Where the flower has nothing to say,
Where it once blossomed and cherished
It acts on remains of the day.

Love, a state of ecstasy
Where insect can open and fly,
Such is the power of feeling
You keep it until you die.

Friendship, a state of love
Where a stream can supply a whole field,
Such is this communal caring
The flowers return with a yield.