Writings and Witterings


Re-titled ‘The Making’ (originally ‘Mote’)

You watch me a while
fascinated by the up
down silver flash,
blinking at
the clatter dash
of levers and pulleys
—applied force—
wheel circling,
my foot depressed
to create,
whirring away.
Now you play
with reels building
a tower or making a snake.
Your brothers, all rough
and tumble disrupt
dust motes of cotton. The snake
becomes a chuffing train
circling the lino at speed
until it breaks apart
and interest is lost.
They go, to leave
just you with me
again as I
cut, shape, and start
to finish—
whirr, whirr—

Polly Robinson © 2014

At dVerse, Gay asked for a poem to our own beat, a poem to represent our personal voice. Mote has been written both for Jo Bell’s 52 and for Gay’s prompt.


I Will Go Home

I will go home
if I can find the place
that is home to me.
Two mothers,
two fathers,
one sister
five siblings…

Home is Hampshire
with my father.
with my mother.
with those I call
Mum and Dad.
I belong somewhere.
I belong somewhere.
Called home.

Polly Robinson © 2014

Written with dVerse poets in mind.

Polly’s Pantables!



Wow! Look at these fab photos of Anne Somerset’s pantables (mules) created by shoemaker Maud van den Broecke – can’t wait to see them for real at the weekend!

To see more about the Soul to Sole project at Croome Court see my project blog.

Originally posted on Croome Redefined:

A new challenge for me. Heel making! Not only that, working with embroidered velvet on a square toed last! These Mules or Pantobles as poet Polly Robinson discovered, are based on a pair of blue velvet shoes that Lady Anne Somerset would have worn in the 17th Century. Embroidered by a local Worcester company, Jas Embroidery, on blue velvet with a silver thread, the upper was simple but unusual. Around a square toed last, the embroidery was designed to sit centrally over the toe which became a challenge when lasting fine velvet to keep the pattern in place.

The heel was a challenge as I have never made heels this high using stacked leather, however I am happy with the final shape and style and I think it works well with the style of the Pantoble! I mainly used the sanding machine to create the curves in the heel and…

View original 97 more words

This gallery contains 10 photos


The Promise Of The Watchers

I promise,
I know your darkest fears,
your deepest desires,
and I will use them against you.

I’ve been watching you.

Don’t look behind
as you climb the stairs
there’s nothing to catch you
all unawares.

I’m watching you.

Nails finger lightly
sketching your cheek
your blood slowly seeps.
Lightning seeks the shadows
the creeping shadows.
Thunder echoes
the church bells.
Night time chitters and skitters
rise to crowd you.

They’re watching you.

I promise
you’ll feel no pain.
You’re running, running.
The ground chasms,
you fall, fall
into the pit
and you run,
burning, burning.
I smell you.

I’m watching you.

The devil’s choir
soars higher and higher,
blood flows from ears,
eyes fall to bones,
withered petals from a rose.
Your neck prickles
with fickle fear,
phantoms leave as you breathe,
ghost shades sneer,
steer you to the abyss.
I see them.

They’re watching you.

You worry you’re dead
and don’t know it yet
I see your heart weep
with fathomless desire
and the pain, the pain.

I watch your pain
and smile.

I promise…
I promise you’ll know
when you’re gone.

Polly Robinson © 2014


Tonight! A Perigee Moon – second

For the second time this summer …

Perigee Moon

Fulsome, blowsy
closer to earth,
closer to man,
fuller and fatter
than the seas.
See her grave face
through the lens
of perigee,
think of the aeons
of this moon
and gravity
pulling higher tides.
The aim: diversity,
as the community
makes moon water.
All an illusion
as the silver moon hangs.

Polly Robinson © 2014


With acknowledgement to: http://beforeitsnews.com

With acknowledgement to: http://beforeitsnews.com


This Morning

…there’s almost a hint
of autumn,
a mist of fresh
damply taste,
a touch
painting skin
with what’s to come.

Polly Robinson © 2014

A second offering for the dVerse ‘Let’s LIMBO’ prompt to write a line in forty words or fewer – I love short poems – this one has twenty words.