Polly

Writings and Witterings


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Open Door

Keeper of Keys – Brooke Shaden

Keeper of Keys – Brooke Shaden

The keeper of the keys
to worlds we wish to live in,
where secrets float
and the impossible becomes possible.
We have a story to tell,
something on our mind.
There’s a light
to show the way
on the bleak bare shore.

Polly Stretton © 2014

Written to dVerse poets prompt by Grace, who features the photography of Brooke Shaden


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No Snow

New Year, and there’s
no snow.
No icicles.
On we go
to see the wraith
of seasons gone,
the phantom here,
the ghost of those to come.

New Year, and there’s
no snow. No icicles. No frost.
Savage spectre of what is lost.
Seasons change.
Extremes occur:
spring’s like summer
used to be. Summer’s short.
Autumn comes early.

And so it goes from year to year
the seasons change, become austere.
Those who live with constant jeers
say this: until we do something,
until we care,
it’s our world, our earth,
whose fate
we share.

Polly Stretton © 2016


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Echoes

IMG_1045

With acknowledgement to Alan Nicholls

In the present, from the past,
a voice that echoes,
a saying that lasts,
even when the body has gone,
what was said will linger on.
‘My mum used to say…’
‘My grannie too…’
‘My dad would have something to say to you.’
In the present, from the past,
a voice that echoes,
echoes that last.

Polly Stretton © 2016


14 Comments

Mabel’s Secret Stash…

A bit of fun that presented itself to me this morning 🙂

mabel-with-pad

Mabel…with cleansing pad!

Mabel’s Secret Stash

Mabel’s got a secret stash
of mama’s facial cleansing pads.
Where she gets them, no one knows,
Ma’s tried following but Mabe won’t show
her hiding place. Where could it be?
It still remains a mystery.

Polly Stretton © 2016


3 Comments

William’s Footprint

William’s Footprint is a poem about William Dean, who arrived at Croome in about 1796 and was Head Gardener to the 6th and 7th Earls of Coventry for nearly 40 years looking after the walled kitchen garden and the park. He wrote a book about Croome and indexed every plant and tree. This poem was written as part of the Soul-to-Sole project and is shown on the sole of William’s shoe in the shoe rack in the basement.

William’s Footprint

If soles could talk
what tales they’d tell
of statues – alive! –
hot walls and wishing wells;
of a serpentine river
and a man-made lake,
of Quercus ilex
and poison Mandrake.

If soles could talk
what tales they’d tell,
of the walled kitchen garden
and glass cloche bells,
of boys of seven
who stoke the heated wall,
while the dipping pond
is their longed for call.

If soles could talk
what tales they’d tell,
of the Druid and Sabrina’s
trysts in the dell;
of mischievous Pan
piping high and sweet,
the goat-god spies on them
in the grotto where they meet.

If soles could talk
what tales they’d tell,
of the nymphs at Croome
and wooded islands where they dwell.
Here’s head gardener Will
wielding spade and pruning hook;
he is grounded and ready
to write his book.

Polly Stretton © 2014