Smooth iridescence,
shining luminescence,
silky strength and resilience;
trace tempting inlays
touched by musicians,
adored by pearly kings and queens.
Baglamas and bazoukis,
caviar spoons, buttons,
beautiful jewellery
warm to the skin,
sexy as satin, sultry and shimmering,
nacreous clouds and notional things.
I see your laugh
I hear your smile
I taste your face
I touch your kiss,
the shape of your heart
All things pass
laughs pass
kisses pass
days pass
fights pass
smiles pass
You heard my smile
you saw my kiss
you tasted my face
you touched my laugh
the shape of my heart
is changed forever
all things pass
Polly Stretton © 2020
napowrimo #5
There’s always something to scupper a plan,
the printers aren’t printing, no woman nor man
handles rolling machines, all sweat and sheen,
that clatter forth with our fine magazine.
No worries, I’ll send the mag files online,
only five to print out for those who decline
to use a computer or email; we cater
for those who prefer to use quill and paper.
But my HP printer runs out of ink,
I insert a refill and restart the print.
Just five to print out, no trouble at all,
but my little stapler hits a brick wall.
The mag is too thick for the stapler to cope,
what to do? Online delivery! I hope
they’ll have a stapler to deal with the heft,
if they can’t manage that, I’ll be bereft.
‘Oh yes,’ they say, ‘heavy duty we do,
‘give us a day and we’ll get it to you.’
I bet you can guess what the next line will be,
that’s right, I’m still waiting, it’s day number three!
Polly Stretton © 2020
napowrimo #4
They call through the years
childlike yet adult,
they grew,
progressed,
as did we.
Photos tell of times
they may not remember,
but memories form
around saved images.
We argue
about Uncle Cliff,
‘He was dark.’
‘No, he was fair.’
‘He was in shadow there;
‘he diminishes with age.’
‘Aunt Rose smelled of perfume.’
‘She would,
‘she worked in a department store
‘on the cosmetics counter.’
Uncle Cliff’s tweed jacket,
the aroma of Condor,
he died of lung cancer,
had a cleft in his chin
like Craig Douglas,
but Cliff was more handsome.
We went to the little shop
at the top of our road.
Uncle Cliff bought
eight Black Jacks
and Fruit Salad
for an old penny.
Aunt Rose
left a tanner
on the dressing table.
The doctor wouldn’t warm his hands over the oil stove
because he had to go out again
into the snow.
My heart cringed at the cold stethoscope.
You cried.
Polly Stretton © 2020
napowrimo #3
I will wear my pearls today
a reminder of gentler times
when the world spun soft on its axis
Polly Stretton © 2020
napowrimo #2
I write, create on the bridge between two places,
imagining feelings, imagining faces
alive with care and laughter and hope,
knowing there’s room, knowing there’s scope
for people all over the world to join in
on my bridge, a span where everyone’s welcome.
Polly Stretton © 2020
napowrimo #1
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