Polly

Writings and Witterings


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Tonight! A Perigee Moon

Perigee Moon

Fulsome, blowsy
supermoon,
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.

Polly Robinson © 2014

With acknowledgement to: http://beforeitsnews.com

With acknowledgement to: http://beforeitsnews.com


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Worcester’s Spider Bridge

A bridge revisited…

Worcester’s Spider Bridge

Summer walking, Worcester bridge,
we see a sight that makes us twitch.
Others stop and stand and stare
at spiders dancing. We’re not scared,
as they spin webs to catch insects
we watch and wonder, pay respects.

Hundreds, thousands, what a show,
our amazement grows and grows,
they cluster, muster round the lamps
busy making spider camps
on lights and pillars of river bridge
lined by trapped moth, fly and midge.

And big fat spiders.

We’ve never seen the like before,
not on hedge, hill, path or shore,
Did Charles see them when he was here?
Or Elgar get inspired by fear
of creepy critters spinning pretty
silvery webs in our city?

They not all fat, some are tiny
with stripy legs, they all look grimy;
weaving, weaving through the day.
We continue on our way
with photos for the memory.

Polly Robinson © 2014

Click on the images to see them full size :)


46 Comments

At The Well

Hylas and the Water Nymphs (Naiads), J. W. Waterhouse

Hylas and the Water Nymphs (Naiads), J. W. Waterhouse

Water nymphs we find at fountains,
bearded gods look down from mountains,
tales are told by ploughmen, townsmen,
cowmen talk of the stolen boy;
the gorgeous gilded golden boy,
at the well.

Roman naiads, water sprites,
approach the sleeping Hylas,
son of Heracles.
Nymph-like tresses fine as a frieze,
flow like water to the well,
they comb and primp to no avail,
we hear them cry, again they fail
and no waves swell.

They see the boy and speculate,
his crowning glory seals his fate.
He’s grasped by nymphs desirous,
made breathless by his shyness,
at the brightness
of the well.

The water sprites soliloquise:
‘What beauty in his hair and eyes.’
Entranced, they see and glorify
his unusual swirling curls.
Hylas falls fast in love,
at the well.

Heracles sought his special boy, or so the townsmen tell;
missed him, search after fruitless search, up hill, in dale and dell,
while the boy shares naiad power in the joy of love’s sweet spell,
the gods come down from the mountain
draw fresh cool water at the fountain,
at the well.

Polly Robinson © 2014

Posting this for dVerse ‘The Dog Days of Summer’ – poet behind the bar is Victoria Slotto – join in with the fun!


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Amazing Haze

Shimmering, shivering, a fast-flowing river
of seedheads shine silver, purple;
the breeze blows hither and thither,
on seeds like souls who think they’ll go through purgatory
travelling from life to heaven or hell.
Be good, be extraordinary.

Polly Robinson © 2014

By uphilldowndale.wordpress.com

By uphilldowndale.wordpress.com


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Mañana Seaside Days

An Anaphoric and Ekphrastic poem – painting by contemporary impressionist artist Leslie Stones.

 

Searching the Rock Pools Leslie Stones (www.lesliestones.co.uk)

Searching the Rock Pools Leslie Stones (www.lesliestones.co.uk)

Mañana Seaside Days

Seaside siblings and a crèche of cousins,
deckchair damsels dashing hopes of dozens,
countless crabby tickled toes a’paddling,

rock pools – splash! – soft sands in sunlight dazzling.
Scabby shins sprawl sandily, stickily,
toes touch, tease towel tents, torment trickily,

lulling listening, laughs linger lacily,
sunshine shimmers on sunhats racily,
gulls’ wings sigh while seashells gleam and glitter.

Seaside sunny days, hot, sparkling sitters.
Slosh, slosh shallows; shush shushing shingle hosts
mañana seaside days at Cornish coast.

 

Polly Robinson © 2012

Published in Girl’s Got Rhythm 2012 and 2014


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Midsummer Solstice

by Io Osborn

by Io Osborn

She is Thalia, reads to Gaia, gestures,
rests on rock in sun on the windborne scent
of wild thyme, her shadow caught by Io.
Crags millions of years old
age around a smooth edged cave
carved out by man.
There was once a hawthorn tree called
‘Wishing Tree’ where the children danced
as a hermit bathed in a well to cure
his sore eyes.
A ravine, against the roots of an old
crabapple, holds a huge block of syenite,
said to be a site of rites.
All this she knows as she reads of swifts
swooping and dancing, sees eyes close
romancing and glancing at words
to celebrate the place in which they stay.
It’s midsummer – summer solstice.

Polly Robinson © 2013

This poem celebrates the solstice and was written following the Malvern Hills Midsummer Walk last year. This year we had a fabulous Midnight Moonlight Solstice Walk. In good company, we heard what we think were probably tawny owlets calling, saw glow worms, saw stars and were advised on the constellations by an expert in our midst (!) welcomed the solstice, drank wine, heard poetry and had a lovely time.


9 Comments

Mechanic Leigh Print Version on Amazon

Originally posted on Written Words Never Die:

I’m happy to announce that Mechanic Leigh, paperback, is now available from Amazon. Please click on image for Amazon USA:

Mechanic Leigh full cover_JPEG

Click here for Amazon UK

The back cover contains eight (8) comments, a small selection from the many supporters of Mechanic Leigh. I reproduce these comments below:

I enjoy your Mechanic Leigh stories. The info on Singapore, the language and the cultural info wrapped in a clever and enjoyable prose – Stephen Baum, California, USA

Loved it as it took me back to my evil teen years – Ian Grice, Queensland, Australia

This whole saga of Mechanic Leigh is so beautifully written – Soma Mukherjee, New Delhi, India

I really enjoyed these Mechanic Leigh stories – Melissa Perera, Maryland, USA

Eric is a living testimony to the belief that if we write from the heart, we will touch other hearts – Jane Thorne, Buckinghamshire, UK

The characters are funny and…

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