Polly

Writings and Witterings


14 Comments

In the Dark of the Moon

A reviewed version from the dark side for dVerse poets 2nd anniversary, where Tony Maude asked us to write to a previous prompt we missed. Sadly, I was too late to join in the dVerse fun … hey-ho! Here it is anyway:

A dark tale of the waning gibbous moon,
the one that lurks in the darkness tonight.
Brow louring, eyes glowering,
glittering red pinpricks emit from the pits;
the pity of the city wrapped in
the evanescence of the smile
it smirks
at those who lurk
below.

They that shirk light on the earth,
in the shadow of moonshine,
that work to earn
a place in noir histoire.
They that taunt and haunt the
crooks of alleys, capes folded, who
lay in wait for those with stumbling gait,
who’ve imbibed a jar
or two …

They wait with needles,
keen sharp knives,
those who shiver and shrive themselves
to the priest
of the dark; who leave their mark,
a fusty tang, a taint of dung, blood-letters who
think of mortality only
as banality, forgetting that death
comes to all, and it’s only
a fall away.

Polly Robinson © 2013

20110718 Waning Gibbous Moon

20110718 Waning Gibbous Moon (Photo credit: Degilbo on flickr)


26 Comments

In the Dark of the Moon

The final day of Napowrimo, and the mood darkens with the waning gibbous moon …

A dark tale of the waning gibbous moon,
the one that lurks in the darkness tonight.
Brow louring, eyes glowering,
glittering red pinpricks emit from the pits,
the pity of the city wrapped in
the evanescence of the smile
it smirks
to those who lurk
below.

They that shirk light on the earth,
in the shadow of moonshine,
that work to earn
a place in noir histoire.
They that taunt and haunt the
crooks of alleys, capes folded, who
lay in wait for those with stumbling gait,
who’ve imbibed a jar
or two …

They wait with needles,
keen sharp knives,
those who shiver and shrive themselves

to the priest
of the dark; who leave their mark,
a fusty tang, a taint of dung, blood-letters who
think of mortality only
as banality, forgetting that death
comes to all, and it’s only
a fall away.

Polly Robinson © 2013

20110718 Waning Gibbous Moon

20110718 Waning Gibbous Moon (Photo credit: Degilbo on flickr)


40 Comments

A Trip on the Waterways

Written for Trip the Poem Fantastic (Poetics) at dVerse, and as it’s also Day 28 for Napowrimo, this poem takes you on a fantastic journey.

We’re going on a walk,
a ‘Words on Water’ walk,
with WLF and writers,
around the waterways
of Worcester.
A trip – not literally –
no accidents, please,
no bodies falling in the wash,
being swept downstream,
to pass through the estuary,
in Bristol, into the briny,
cold currents rushing you further
to the Atlantic Ocean
and across to visit friends
in America.

Polly Robinson © 2013

napo2013button1


26 Comments

Flash Fiction

keepcalmAndWriteFlashThinking about Flash Fiction writers on Napowrimo, Day 27.

Flash: a quickly written,
smitten – writer on a mission –
short, short story,
flash fiction.

Get those fingers flashing,
brain dashing,
mind mashing,
pen writing,

brain fighting to
work a twist into
the tail – rail against
time – get it down,

get it down,
get down,
down.
Flash.

logo13sm

22 June 2013

Polly Robinson © 2013


13 Comments

Etheree: Store

napo2013button1Day 26 Napowrimo ~ an etheree, very romantic [heh-heh], about the garage … with thanks to Kira for the form.

A
garage
is so much
more than a store
a used bottle bank
waiting until there are
sufficient to take along
to the recycling plant at the
rubbish tip and we know that we have
done our duty to the environment

Polly Robinson © 2013

new garage / workshop setup

new garage / workshop setup (Photo credit: riebschlager)

The Etheree is a simple progressive syllabic verse. It is attributed to American poet Etheree Taylor Armstrong.
The Etheree is:
o a decastich. (10 line poem)
o syllabic, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 syllables per line
o unrhymed
o focused on 1 idea or subject


25 Comments

Triolet: For the Birds

It’s Napowrimo, it’s Day 25, and a triolet for the birds on the seed feeder was born.

Finches cling to full seed feeder,
grounded thrush pecks yellow mealworms,
pigeons play, ‘follow my leader,’
finches cling to full seed feeder,
as earth, the garden weeder, turns,
throwing worms to redbreast cheepers,
feels warmth in soil and from it learns.
Finches cling to full seed feeder,
grounded thrush pecks yellow mealworms.

Polly Stretton © 2013

Birds Fight at the Seed Feeder

Birds Fight at the Seed Feeder (Photo credit: dagnyg)

A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.


18 Comments

Little Owl

Hay Barn

Hay Barn (Photo credit: dbnunley)

 

Day 24 of Napowrimo dawns grey and misty here in the heart of the UK.

Mist on the hay barn
hangs in the morning,
dew underfoot bathes
my boots.
Even though early,
and unusual, overhead
a Little owl hoots.

Polly Robinson © 2013