Polly

Writings and Witterings


16 Comments

Indian Givers

Indian givers give things and snatch them back. Tingos borrow things until nothing is left to borrow. Martianism, an anagram, describes everyday things from unusual angles.

Indian Givers

They reach the edge of the desert
and send a postcard home,
see a one-eyed orange porpoise
dancing on the tarmac
in estranged sneakers
borrowed from a camel;
they know
there is no more.
Perfection is another’s domain.

Polly Robinson © 2014

orange porpoisesneakers


4 Comments

Breaking Free

Polly:

A poem that uses imagery and metaphor most effectively – enjoy this ace read from Christine.

Originally posted on journeyintopoetry:

The trick is to know when,
and for those who truly seek to bloom
their time will come.

There will be an urgency
like a rebirth,
the years of confinement over
and time to take a risk,
to burst through,
break loose from the safety
of the bud and say
Here I am.

This is true discernment,
a risking of good for better
and better for best.
Because a bud will eventually
outgrow its purpose
and if not broken
will droop, hang limp,
a withered head, brittle
and packed tight with
the crushed brown petals
of what could have been.

View original


20 Comments

Around Four

03:44 lorries trundle past
03:49 someone in the bathroom
03:50 get up, close windows
03:51 taste breath, drink water
03:55 clean teeth, take para
04:00 lights out, settle down
04:20 get up, make tea
04:21 moth fluttering in lamp
04:23 drink tea, hear lorries
04:25 write this, settle down
04:26 damn, awake now

Polly Robinson © 2014


30 Comments

Waterways

Walk
around the waterways
of Worcester.
No bodies fall in the wash
to be swept downstream,
chill, clammy, broken,
to pass through the estuary
at Bristol, into the briny,
cold currents rushing them further
to the Atlantic Ocean
and across to visit friends
in America.

Polly Robinson © 2014

For Gabriella’s first post in Poetics – Travel Poetry at dVerse poets pub


15 Comments

Mrs Smithfield Returns

Mrs Smithfield writes an ode
and, like a spy,
quietly slips
the blue lined pages
to me.

Her soft brown cardigan
– mohair –
sheds tiny pearlescent stud buttons.
A rural week amongst cruddy cows
and stupid sheep in summer sun,
hot on fields of hay,
yet cool, beautifully cool, gloriously cool
in shadowed woods.

Around a spitting campfire
crackling on parents’ night,
we sing Kumbayah to bemused
faces feasting on fish cakes with bread
and butter, swilling
mugs of hot sweet tea.
Jen and I made five hundred fish cakes:

‘Ridiculous,’ mother says.
‘How fantastic!’ says Mrs Smithfield.

Girls in dirndl skirts as Heidi,
or Cinderella
– a fancy dress competition –
others as two halves of a horse
made of chequered blankets
– no pearl buttons –
Jen and I win as chimney sweep
and chimney.

After,
Mrs Smithfield quietly slips
the blue lined pages
with a faint crackle
and an apologetic air,
to me.

Polly Robinson © 2014

Chimney sweep and chimney with cat Acknowledgement to www.dreamstime.com

Chimney Sweep and Chimney with Cat.
Acknowledgement to http://www.dreamstime.com


18 Comments

To Olivia

Ouch! A nasty fall!
Such an awful trip!
Poor bruised knee
and blood, drip, drip.
A blue and blooming bruise,
a loose tooth you didn’t chip;
shaken up, but brave,
just a small and quivering lip.

Assembly today
with a plaster on your knee.
Your very first group swim,
which you won magnificently!
An internet safety play,
then a friend came round to tea.
You’ll mend, you’re a soldier,
you have courage, Mum, and me.

Polly Robinson © 2014


65 Comments

9th May 1989

The lull before the storm.
The port before the call.
The knowledge of defeat.
The spirit’s downward fall.

A gradual repair.
A jigsaw in the round.
Retrieve the final piece.
Regain momentum found.

Rebuild a shattered dream.
Rekindle, light a spark.
Rehouse, and start again,
and you will leave your mark.

Polly Robinson © 1989

For dVerse Poetics—bringing light to darkness—from a smashing prompt by Anthony Desmond.