Polly

Writings and Witterings


10 Comments

The Silence of Emptiness

In the silence of my room
I hear a sob
I know it can’t be me
because
I swore no tears for you.

Yet a curse is no ally
against an empty bed
empty arms
where you once fit
snugly.

Blinding ache
in the core
serpent bite
of bitter love
no more.

Laughing no more
trying no more
dancing no more
crying
no more.

 

Polly Stretton © 2016


7 Comments

Sunset

Evening Sunrise - ebsheehy.wordpress.com

Sunset – with acknowledgement to ebsheehy.wordpress.com

Sunset

Top of the
evening, sunset:
Spirito Italiano,
golden yellow,
tapering, elegant,
lidded, etched in purple.
Olive leaf quill in
a “‘G’, please Bob”.
Gold rush glory,
voluptuous vanilla
scented by subtle spice,
infused with herbs,
thirty per cent
smoooooth.

Polly Stretton © 2016

 

Galliano-galliano.com

With acknowledgement to galliano.com


7 Comments

Tip the Windmill

We look after our feet
to keep walking
and our skin
for comfort and looks.
This is a small caution
it is in wellness defined …
think of yourself, for once,
don’t ignore your mind.
The fragile mind,
full of vim and vigour,
deserves our attention too.

By and large
it keeps in good health,
yet a day might dawn
when almost by stealth
it no longer functions
one’s ‘not quite oneself.’
They dole out meds,
maybe something is said
that tilts the balance,
tips the windmill,
turns the head
away.

Polly Stretton © 2016


6 Comments

Incarnate

So many myths surround butterflies, here, a few of them are woven into a celebration of the beautiful little beings.

Fritillary–butterfly-conservation.org

Dark Green Fritillary–with acknowledgment to butterfly-conservation.org

Incarnate

The spirit returns,
the soul is eager,
changes and chance,
danger and dance.

All over the world
they flitter and twirl,
flowers fade,
fritillaries flicker.

Glorious flutters,
eternal stutters;
symbol of stars,
amazed avatars.

The butterfly
who flies so high
works a world of art,
paints an image apart.

Polly Stretton © 2016

 


57 Comments

Sunlit Still

In response to the sepia photograph prompt at The Mag which was a new find for me in 2012 – now taking a bit of a break – this ekphrastic poem:

Sunlit Still

Captured for
all time
in the silent
shadows.

A sunlit room,
snapshots
in time
in a snapshot of time.

Unlit candles
cast darkness on sills.
A frozen head
observes
time stands still.

It is 10:30.
It remains 10:30.
It will never be other
than 10:30.

Polly Stretton © 2016


11 Comments

The Hole Is Filled…

…but the project continues.

Here’s the latest photo of the pond hole that was…one broken finger and a couple of months later, thanks to good weather, progress has been made.

Nearly full

This is the rock that got my finger:

The guilty one!

…and here is a photo of a confused Clematis Alpina…they’re supposed to flower in the spring, this photo was taken a couple of days ago:

Clematis Alpina

Isn’t it beautiful?