Writings and Witterings


Summer Sun – a triolet

Back in April 2012, following Catherine Crosswell’s first trioletPass the Parcel” I had been meaning to have a bash at one.  An especially hot day during the summer of 2012 seemed the perfect day to write it. It was so hot, too hot to actually do gardening [much as it needed dealing with!] – well, that was my excuse, as if I need one!

So here it is, offered to Grace for dVerse Poets for OpenLinkNight#153

Summer Sun

The summer sun beats down, merciless,
And the birds are exhausted with heat,
Sparrows dust bath, pigeons purr.
The summer sun beats down, merciless,
Up with sunshades, lounge, don’t stir,
A sun lotion Sunday paper treat.
The summer sun beats down, merciless,
And the birds are exhausted with heat.

Polly Robinson © 2012


Twisted Wisps

Twisted Tree - photo by David Clark  www.pinterest.com/4dave1954.jpg

Twisted Tree – photo by David Clark

The twisted old tree
at the foot
of the garden
is grandfather.

His timepiece in the hall
ticks off the days,
clay pipe on the mantle shelf
mouths his presence.

Boots on the gravel
lead to the door,
stamp on the doormat
same as ever.

Rocking chair creaks
in time with soft chimes,
wisps of smoke evoke,
cloak, smile at the joke.

Polly Robinson © 2015


Croome Poetry Project – Heather Wastie

So thrilled to be part of this project – do let me know what you think of it all – of course, I think it wonderful! :D With many thanks to Heather Wastie, Apples & Snakes, and all my fab poetry colleagues.


Dandelion Faeries

Dandelion faeries blow in the breeze
dancing to the tune of Croome,
murmuring mystical movements.

Ripples run
in rivulets and rings
and the dandelion faeries
tiptoe in time in a timeless haven,

swimming in the air,
splashing in sunshine
and shallows:
dainty dandelion fae.

Polly Robinson © 2015



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.


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