Writings and Witterings


Happy New Year ~ 2013

My very best wishes for the New Year ~ may it bring you all that you wish for 🙂

iStock_000021293329MediumEvery New Year’s eve
We stand at the top of the lane,
We see and hear
The glittering City fireworks,
No scent of cordite mars or jars;
Sweet bright light
Sky lanterns
Swaying through the night.

This year no breath of snow
Whispers past,
No frost tweaks
At extremities,
The ceiling of the faithful City
Celebrates time.
We stand at the top of the lane
Sipping scented spiced hot wine.

Polly Robinson © 2012


Winter Artistry In The Malverns

Frowsty ferns and frosted hay,
hints of darkening damp decay.
Dank smouldering fires,
smokey blue Shires.
A dog’s yap ricochets
across archaic

Buzzards ride, sway,
swoop on small prey.
Fanthorpe and Auden
write of Malvern
Hills echo poets
with Elgar’s discern-
ing ear.

Polly Robinson © 2012


No Snow

The Earth seen from Apollo 17.

Christmas, and there’s
No snow.
Rain runnels and
Banshees howl about the house.
Trees lurch, screaming,
Torrents teeming,
Roads dammed
Across the land.

Close to New Year, and there’s
No snow. No icicles.
Nationwide: the floods.
And 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 © 2012

I am posting this for Claudia’s Change & Turns at dVerse Poets



burnt toast
Scraping black toast into the sink,
Teen hears Mum say,
‘Just do another slice. Another slice.’
But no, scrape the acrid burnt bits into
The sink. Dad will clean the toast dust, bitter
Choking toast dust sticks to
Sink sides clinging onto
The cloth Mum hates to clear away. She says,
‘Just do another slice. Another slice.’

Polly Robinson © 2012



I’m not much of a one for contentious language, hence the asterisks. I think you’ll know what I mean.

Against fracking 01

Against fracking (Photo credit: Bosc d’Anjou)

Say it as you will
Fracking seems to me
To be
A cross between
F***ing and sh**ging

They insert gas into cracks
And then blow rocks up

Say it as you will
Fracking seems to me
To be
A cross between
F***ing and sh**ging

Polly Robinson © 2012


I Had a Piano for Christmas

1.blue toy piano

They gave me a piano
pale blue, a baby grand.
I practised on it
ker plunk,
ker plink.
They said I was good
and suggested piano lessons.

Because they said I could, I took
piano lessons.
She was Scottish, the piano teacher,
she would make drop scones at the drop of a chord.
I wrote a piece, she played it.
It bore no resemblance
to what I believed I had written.

Polly Robinson © 2012


Bewildered Wilderness

only in Texas; Courtyard Marriott

Shout out for those not in the room, for whom
Others speak.
Chosen couriers – the loudest
Shout down gentle tones.
Velvet-voiced assassins
Canvass views, then
Those ‘in the know,’ breathless,
Await the mooted plan.
Isolation stands by, a
Lone voice in
The wilderness.
In the wilderness:
Beg, plea for those not
Present; for those
Ignorant of itineraries;
For those absent
From the picture.
Who will witness the
Harridan, the
Steamroller, blast
Things into place
Dissent and discontent strike with a
Serpent’s sticky tongue and
Suggest the rest
Go away.
Let those with
The deepest pockets,
Loudest voices
Have their say. Others
May leave.
Go. Go with the majority.

Polly Robinson © 2012

Karin Gustafson, aka Manicddaily is tending bar for dVerse poets today and asks us to write about The Poetics of Presents/ce ~ this poem considers presence and the absence of presence.