Polly

Writings and Witterings


38 Comments

Rainbow

KB asked for a persona poem at dVerse Poetics.
Athenian red-figure lekythos, Museum of Art Rhode Island School of Design (http://www.theoi.com/Pontios/Iris.html)
I am a rainbow,
a golden winged messenger,
they say I am dewey, fresh faced,
refilling rain clouds
with water from the sea.

I spend the speed of the wind
with my man, Zephyrus,
by my side.
I plunge into
the ocean deep,
underworld dark,
unhindered by the caduceus
staff, hard in my left hand.

My Harpy sister
brings to Zeus the great oath of the gods.
I am Iris, with a ewer
of nectar.

Swift footed,
sure, like a storm,
I see my sister’s wings
on Achilles’ heels.

They call me a delicate herald of light
in my gossamer gown:
ruby red;
orange organza;
yardbird yellow;
green parakeet;
blue sky blue;
divisive indigo;
virtuous violet,
the realm of the rainbow is mine
always beyond reach.

Polly Stretton 2016


9 Comments

Festival

Do you see them peeping?
Do you see them creeping?
They’re beneath the blades of green
where the bluebells will be seen.
They’re making for the coracle,
see it in the distance?
And they’ll take it through the mist
to the river just beyond.
They’ll travel up the river,
mothers will get shivers
and children heebie-jeebies
looking for the fae.
It’s known they’ll be here soon,
for it is the time of year
when the fae enjoy the festival,
the festival of fear.

Polly Stretton © 2016


11 Comments

Flawless

OU Poets were once asked to write to the theme ‘Wabi and Ostranenie’, after looking these words up (!) here’s what I did…

Flawless

Find the Persian pebble-edged river,
cross the candyfloss bridge
to pure graph paper.
Work a motif, mina-khani, rosette
aching on acanthus
in repeating figures
borrowed from weavers,
and know
there is no more.
Perfection is another’s domain.

Polly Stretton © 2015


13 Comments

Pity Of The City

Full Beaver Moon – 25 November 2015 (always in November) The time of year to set beaver traps before the big freeze, to ensure a supply of warm winter furs. It’s suggested that the name Full Beaver Moon comes from the fact that the beavers are now actively preparing for winter. It is sometimes also referred to as the Frosty Moon or Hunter’s Moon.

worcester full moon by cathedral - worcesternews.co.uk

Full Moon beside Worcester Cathedral – photo acknowledgement to Worcester News worcesternews.co.uk

Pity Of The City

A dark tale for the baleful Beaver Moon,
the one that sky-lurks tonight:
face lours, eyes glower, glimmering
light emits from pits;
the pity of the city wraps
an evanescence of a smirk
in the murk,
hunting
below.

Shades shirk light on earth;
moonshine works to earn
noir histoire.
Tauntingly haunting crooks in alleys,
capes folded, in wait
for a stumbling gait,
imbibers of a jar
or two…

Ghouls wield needles, knives,
shiver and shrive
to priests of the dark;
leave their mark,
a fusty tang, taint of doom; bloodletters
think of mortality only as banality,
forgetting that death comes to all…
and it’s only a frostbitten
fall
a

w

a

y

 

Polly Stretton © 2015


36 Comments

The Girl In The Chair And Her Protégé

She’d cupped a small bird in her hand,
born this year, feathers silky soft,
she encouraged flight, held it aloft,
so warm, so weak, it trembled.

She wheeled her chair along smooth garden ways,
a feather dropped, wafted soft.
The bird stayed in the hayloft.

Quietude, rest and warmth worked their magic,
the creature stilled, silently calm,
the scented hay seemed to act as a balm.

The gentle gauche girl returned the next day,
no drama, the bird had flown away.
The girl in the chair and her protégé.

Polly Robinson © 2015


23 Comments

Not Home

Before the face of all he owns
in front of times long gone
aeons of dark and dry bleached bone
behind a veil of song
all around beam rictus grins
while his expression’s stone
and rats gnaw through the black of bins
for all who are alone
he moves forward
in a flickering light
void voices on a phone
caution as his chest cleaves tight
shuffle here
shuffle there
shuffle home

Polly Robinson © 2015


12 Comments

Iris

Athenian red-figure lekythos, Museum of Art Rhode Island School of Design (http://www.theoi.com/Pontios/Iris.html)
You are a rainbow,
a golden winged messenger,
a dewey fresh faced goddess
refilling rain clouds
with water from the sea.

Speed of the wind,
with your man, Zephyrus,
by your side,
plunge into
the ocean deep,
underworld dark,
unhindered by the caduceus
staff in your left hand.

Sister to the harpies,
bring to Zeus the great oath of the gods.
Iris, with a ewer
of nectar.

Swift footed,
sure, like a storm,
see your sister’s wings
on Achilles’ heels.

Delicate herald of light
in a gossamer gown:
ruby red;
orange organza;
yardbird yellow;
green parakeet;
blue sky blue;
divisive indigo;
virtuous violet,
the realm of the rainbow is yours
always beyond reach.

Polly Robinson 2015