Polly

Writings and Witterings


8 Comments

Scorpio

Written for the Kidderminster monthly acoustic spoken word and music night, Mouth & Music ‘Ghosts and Ancestors’  October 2014–I didn’t make it on the night, so here it is…

Scorpio

Funereal drapes and grey shadow
fingers; faded velvet hangs;
single candle
streaks the blackened room.
The alcove portrait scowls
–surveys the family–
gathered, they eat cake.

Boy puts crumbed hands to face;
the portrait stares
with wrathful eyes.
Boy wishes for warmth
away from the glare,
the daggers of the portrait.
No one else sees.

Uncle picks up the folio
below the portrait;
opens it,
lines mirror down the sides
of his mouth.
Matching eyes,
identical scowl.

The boy views the face
he will become:
same frown,
same beetling brows,
same shock of black hair.
Same birthday.
Samhain.

Polly Robinson © 2014


22 Comments

Acid Velvet

Nicotiana Alata 'Lime Green' acknowledgement to crocus.co.uk

Nicotiana Alata ‘Lime Green’ acknowledgement to crocus.co.uk

Acid Velvet

Strolling the paths
of my very first flower show,
gravelled with Nicotiana alata,
zesty lime masses soft in the sun.
Salver-shaped, fresh green leaves
wave in the breeze, utter
in the border,
inflorescent cluster of flora,
tobacco panicles
of a younger summer.
Acid velvet trumpets throw
a twilight scent beloved
of city and courtyard,
pour out fragrance for fluttering moths
in cottage gardens.
And I, at my first flower show
fall in love with Solanaceae
for life.

Polly Robinson © 2014


16 Comments

Squint

Yesterday, Björn at dVerse Poets Pub asked us to release a flow of words without restraint to grammar or meaning, maybe repeating the same word / image for effect. I missed the post, but couldn’t resist having a go at it anyway! ;)

Orange impression
–squint–

Depression green
–squint–

Red compression
–squint–

Grey repression
–squint–

Oppression yellow
–squint–

Beige expression
–squint–

Indiscretion purple
–squint–

–squint–

Polly Robinson © 2014


14 Comments

The Wait Poetry Anthology – poetry for a cause

My copy of The Wait Poetry Anthology has arrived! I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see poems from my friends and fave bloggers, Alex Malcolm-Carr and MarinaSofia plus 97 other wonderful poets. ‘Mrs Smithfield’ is rubbing shoulders with some ace poems.

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George Sandifer-Smith has edited this collection of poems and the proceeds go to Cancer Research – a worthwhile cause that I’ve supported in many ways for a long time, as a member of the LitFest team, as an individual, and as a Rotarian. Starting with ‘A Crimson Smile’ by Faisal Al-Doori and moving though to finish with ‘How I know I need a biscuit in the afternoon’ by Katherine Stansfield, these, plus the ones in between, are more than worth a read.

One of my dearest friends is currently seeing oncologists because her cancer has returned. What can I say? I join with the Worcestershire Breast Unit Campaign and others: ‘Everyone knows someone’. We must keep helping and supporting. We just must.

Thank you, George and the team, for this compilation. I understand that an e-book will be available at some point, but for the time being, here is another link with information about how to purchase the book online.

Everyone should have a copy – brilliant poetry for a brilliant cause.


38 Comments

Tight Bouquet

Autumn (1)

Now, as yesterday’s
tight bouquet
opens and fades,
we are present.

The autumn hips and haws,
once perfect red
almost orbs,
crinkle with small black daubs.

Tomorrow,
lines craze from crinkles,
daubs join in the blot
of relentless rot.

Even yesterday,
the bouquet
was not as tight
as we thought.

Polly Robinson © 2014

A bouquet seen in the corner of my eye put me in mind of yesterday, today and tomorrow, embracing all sorts of connotations—linking this to MarinaSofia’s fab prompt at dVerse poetics—head on over there and post one of your poems.


18 Comments

Persephone

This is the latest version of my ekphrastic poem about Persephone.

My Sweet Rose (or The Soul of the Rose) John William Waterhouse

My Sweet Rose (or The Soul of the Rose)
John William Waterhouse

Persephone

Radiant beauty,
goddess of the spring,
scent of the rose
against your brow’s wing;
fertile maid of life…and death.

Seeds of the fruits
of the field.

She meanders in meadows
of fragrant flowers,
roses, violets, hyacinths in bowers.
She’s seized, snatched,
carried off;
stolen by Hades
in a golden
four-horsed
chariot.

And Demeter weeps.

Odysseus at the House of Death
sees a wraith
to make one ache.

Persephone
becomes the curse of dead souls.
Men distrust her six months here,
six months there.

It is said:
“This is no deception sent by Queen Persephone,
this is the way of mortals when we die.”

Feel the horror queen’s light breath.

But wait!
A kindness yet,
to let the souls return.

Springtime Goddess of Rebirth -
mystery initiations -
sudden depressions give way to the mysteries,
a better life,
a different fate after death.

Repeat to the beginning,
seeds of the fruits
of the field.
All shall return.

She is the painted winecup,
she is: life and death,
wife, daughter,
innocence, wisdom,
death and rebirth.

And she stole the beautiful Adonis!
Oh yes!  A psychopomp…
with pomegranate seeds

and blessings
for wisdom and tranquillity.

Death
is not evil
’tis a cycle
for good.

Repeat to the beginning,
seeds of the fruits
of the field.
All shall return.

Polly Robinson © 2014