Writings and Witterings


Dance With Me?

‘Dance with me?’

When Dad was embarrassed, he whistled,
a tootling flootling whoot;
three notes,
always the same, breath gently pushed
through pursed lips, eyes to heaven.

‘Do you want to dance, Dad?’
and he’d whistle.
‘Let’s waltz.’

As we waltzed his lips
remained pursed, exhaling
whistles silent
but audible, as his breath passed my ears,
his eyes upwards, looking at no one,
hoping no one was looking at him.

‘Dance with me?’

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


Transient Sound

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


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


have the aliens come
at last?


they’re as small
your ear.

Polly Robinson © 2015

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


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
known for aeons gone by.

Polly Robinson © 2015


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