Polly

Writings and Witterings


57 Comments

Shrine

Husband, signalman, he’ll be home soon,
carrying the noon whiff of Brasso-clean levers,
fusty yellow dusters, faintly grey.

Soft golden cloths
–red-thread blanket-stitched–
shine the upright handles.

He covers every angle,
a bright mirrored shrine.

Polly Robinson © 2015

My father was a signalman. So this week, as dVerse Poetics ask us to write about trains, this poem came to mind – a sort of homage to my dad. Hop on board.


51 Comments

Spaced in Equality

Tonight at dVerse Poets, celebrating our fourth anniversary, Marina Sofia asks you to think of three words that mean a lot, and three words to describe things you are grateful for; my words are: Croome, curlicues, equality, and daughter, mother, language. Thank you, Marina, for the prompt :)

Here’s my poem:

Spaced in Equality

My mother would have been
singularly unimpressed
with the curlicues
in artwork at Croome
– spaced in equality –
that bit she’d approve,
the art, less so.
My daughter, ditto.
But to me,
to me,
they are the mother
and daughter of language.

Polly Robinson © 2015

With acknowledgement to https://www.pinterest.com/pin/84231455507316960

Island Pavilion, Croome, with acknowledgement to Jason Grimes of Atelier & Co via pinterest


17 Comments

Raku

I like to write to specific forms on occasion, even if they are traditional (I like a bit of tradition). Here is an Awdl Gywydd that I wrote in 2012 and published in my first collection of poetry entitled Girl’s Got Rhythm.

The Awdl Gywydd (owdl gow-widd) is a Celtic (Welsh) poetry form that complicates the end rhyme scheme by interlacing an internal rhyme throughout the poem on the second and fourth lines of each stanza. The end rhyme scheme is as follows: a,b,c,b… d,e,f,e, etc… however, the internal (cross-rhyme) can be placed in either the 3rd, 4th, or 5th, syllable position.

Raku bowls

Have a go at one…they’re interesting. Worth working at…

Raku

Crickle, crackle, raku glaze,
shattered craze of crafted pots,
bisque ware fired in burning kilns,
potters film, peel-off slip shocks.

Excitement lifts temperature,
glaze is sure to be red hot,
post fire unpredictable,
flames a miracle new pot.

Polly Robinson © 2012

Raku Fox

Raku Fox


9 Comments

Transient Sound

What’s that noise?
Overhead and to the right
a whirring, burring, buzzing –
you look for a whirligig

or

could it be a firework rocket?
In July?
At 7 o’clock in the morning?

or

have the aliens come
at last?

and

they’re as small
as
your ear.

Polly Robinson © 2015

First published in Girl’s Got Rhythm revised prior to posting


22 Comments

The Conjunction

July 1st saw a conjunction or ‘close approach’ between Venus and Jupiter in the western horizon. At the moment of closest approach, Venus was at mag -5.3, and Jupiter at mag -1.8, both in the constellation Leo. Details from In-The-Sky.org

Image © Y. Beletsky ESO 2009

Image © Y. Beletsky ESO 2009

The Conjunction

Venus and Jupiter,
kissing in the skies,
sink together slowly
before our very eyes,
bedding and bonding
way up high,
supreme mythical beings
from days long gone by.

Polly Robinson © 2015


18 Comments

No Creosote

In the potting shed
the scent of ancient creosote
wafts in heavy summer heat.
Years of grandpa, pipe in mouth,
leaning against the wall
as grandma wielded the black
brush and yelled,

‘Get back you
kids,’ followed by her gap-tooth grin.

She lives in the still-
standing walls…
no creosote now.

Polly Robinson © 2015

First published on this blog in 2014, this is a revised version – yesterday’s heat put me in mind of it.

Potting shed


8 Comments

not sorry yet

Meadow Run Away

four-year-old legs pumping running away
ma shouts after me ‘come back’ sister wails
ma is livid i pushed the bowl downstairs
this is how she sees it it is my fault
a tall ten-pint goldfish bowl three goldfish
i run down the meadow behind our house
it is hay-making time yellow grass scent
and dust tickle my nose and make me sneeze
sneeze stops me for long enough she catches
me i have glanced behind in my run and
seen her struggling with my little sister
but ma is grim-faced and determined that
i will be caught and punished it was an
accident i tripped knocked into the bowl
which bounced down each stair fish flying water
arcing the finest mirrored droplets splash
the sound of breaking glass tinkles downwards
she comes out of the kitchen babe on hip
and roars ‘nooooo’ i flee out the open door
my legs pump i feel my heart i hear my
breath coming jagged i smell the hay i
sneeze she catches me she screams thrashes me
and at each step thrashes me again all
up the meadow back into the house she
is crying hot angry tears me howling
mortified indignant rebellious
an accident i sob my jaw jutting
i am but four-years-old not sorry yet

Polly Robinson © 2012

‘not sorry yet’ was written in 2012 and published in my first poetry collection ‘Girl’s Got Rhythm‘ which was reprinted 2014.