Polly

Voyeurs

Polly Robinson — Tue, 21 May 2013 15:47:47 +0000

They want to bite her legs, the pigs,
who eat anything, everything, all …
They’re voyeurs of the worst kind,
they wait and watch and growl.

The noise continues through twilight,
as she sits quiet, in reflection,
but, hark, is that them coming through?
She grabs a broom for protection.

They charge the fence and mire the field,
rattle buckets, stare,
they groan to make her stomach squeal.
Gimlet-eyed malevolent glare.

Ghastly grunts and hawking coughs,
yellow hair on pink piggy backs,
blighted, boorish, ghoulish black spots,
windy, snotty, snuffling, wuffling, dirty, shirty pigs.

Now, what good she thinks the broom will do
is a very perceptive question.
Maybe she’ll ram it in their maws
and ruin their digestion.

Evil pig

La da didi

Polly Robinson — Fri, 17 May 2013 16:00:50 +0000

La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la la la, li li, li li,
La la la, la laaaa, la la laaaa, la la la la la la la, da da.

Di di di di di, di di di di di, diddly di di, diddly di di,
Di di di di di, di di di di di, di di di di di, di di diddly di di.
Di di di di di di, di di di di di di di, di di di di di di di, di di di di di diddly di diddly di.

Apple Blossom Time

Polly Robinson — Fri, 17 May 2013 15:30:40 +0000

… and there will be apples this year
by Geoff Robinson 2020zoom 2013

Aercet

Polly Robinson — Thu, 16 May 2013 15:00:44 +0000

Pre-formed walls,
clutched in orange crane
maws,
waltzing
‘The Blue Danube,’
a ballet she
danced as a child.

The architect cries
when she sees
above the trees, houses
and hills.
She weeps.

Local miners,
golden clay,
~ 18,000 tons ~
each year,
a face,
a veneer.

‘The Blue Danube’ plays.
Strauss hums
as the house
sighs,
satisfied, complete.

Flash, Bang, Wallop

Polly Robinson — Wed, 15 May 2013 18:05:32 +0000

What a reception!
The bride glows pink, hair awry,
wilting at this end of day,
it drifts across her shining face,
she lifts a ringed hand,
brushes a strand away.

We catch a glimpse of
what’s to come,
her gesture echoes
that of mum, who’s
not here, she’s had to go,
with mother-in-law ~ a tale of woe ~
she’s taken ill.

It’s all the thrill
of organising
such a do,
the 60s music, 60s food,
cocktail sausage, pineapple, cheese,
damp ham sandwiches …
Fairy cakes and boys on
the dance floor,
young men,
twitching arses,
and girls,
fat ones, in
very, very short skirts.

Frankenstein

Polly Robinson — Sun, 12 May 2013 09:08:00 +0000

The monster killed my brother and
torched DeLacey’s cottage.
He wants a companion.
Is that it?

They say he killed Clairbol,
will kill his new wife.
No, they’re wrong,
his sister is next,
and then Frankenstein will die.

I ask you, is the monster
Frankenstein or his creation?

Evil to kill children,
evil to kill,

evil to create a monster.

Promotional photo of Boris Karloff from The Bride of Frankenstein as Frankenstein’s monster. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sorcery!

Polly Robinson — Wed, 08 May 2013 05:45:41 +0000

Sorcery!

It bewitches the heart,
bewilders the head,
leads to where
good times are had.

Delusions of clarity,
[thoughts of parity].
Let us carouse
on a vilified glass.

Give us a spoon,
sugar, iced water,
succumb to the spirit.
La fée verte.

Sorcery!

Tercet: Scene Through Glass

Polly Robinson — Mon, 06 May 2013 05:15:45 +0000

I stand at the top of the stairs and glare
through the glass across the fields where mist lurks
in the morning rays. And there! runs a hare.

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