Polly

Writings and Witterings


Leave a comment

The Lake at The Fold

Solitary fish all faced the sun,
I saw them each and every one,
the early morning frost was gone
and the warmth at the top of the pond
brought them up for me to see,
sunbathing carp, one two three,
starting their springtime tan,
sun worshipping, chillin’.

Polly Stretton © 2020

 

Carp–heylandmarine.com:uk-carp-and-coarse-fisshing

With acknowledgement to heylandmarine.com:uk-carp-and-coarse-fisshing


6 Comments

Albums

In the albums of my life
images
solid and fleeting;
the first holiday snapshots,
moments pickled in time,
preserved on shiny card,
rarely reviewed.
Another box holds couples:
some are me and he,
whoever the he was, in transience.
There’s a box for disappointments.
Ah, wait, it’s the same as the second
with a few thrown in
for the paths not followed.
Then there are those for children,
or the lack of children.

Polly Stretton © 2019


3 Comments

Lamb

My favourite springtime poem, published in Girl’s Got Rhythm: Lamb

Lamb

At the start of spring sunshine
in May, a clamour occurs,
an ignominious din.

She sees the lambs born
on a cool summer morn, stumble;
bumble, late in the daylight.

The sun rises at four,
red, ruby-gold glows up high
and christens the new-born babes.

It comes round, it goes around
it returns on this morning
of joy, of hope, of new lives.

Polly Stretton © 2012

For those interested in form in poetry, this is a Triversen which is described as:

The rhythm of normal speech, employing 1 to 4 strong stresses per line.

Stanzaic  Written in any number of tercets. Each tercet is one sentence, a kind of natural breath.

Grammatical  There should be 3 lines. L1 is a statement of fact or observation, L2 and L3 should set the tone, imply a condition or associated idea, or carry a metaphor for the original statement.

Alliteration contributes to stress.

Other ‘rules’ found on the internet:

Triversen:

Each stanza equals one sentence.

Each sentence/stanza breaks into 3 lines (each line is a separate phrase in the sentence).

There is a variable foot of 2-4 beats per line.

The poem as a whole should add up to 18 lines (or 6 stanzas). As you’ll see, I did not heed this rule, the poem seemed complete to me after just 4 stanzas 🙂


10 Comments

The Poacher And The Hare


A witch astride her besom
is flying wide and high,
her cape flaps all about her
as she travels through the sky.
Her hair is black as coal dust,
she peers through one good eye,
as people far below her
look up, stupefied.

The final day of February,
beneath a wintery sky,
we find the local poacher
catching rabbits on the fly.
He is no big brave soldier
just needs some food to eat
before the world gets colder,
a stew will be a treat.

The witch sees him beneath her,
his gun slung o’er his arm,
she takes her eye out, polishes,
puts it back, still warm.
With clarity of vision
she sees a running hare
close enough for him to shoot,
she shouts out, ‘Run! Beware!’

The poacher takes exception
‘My supper’ he exclaims,
‘You’ve done me out of meat tonight,
‘for shame, old witch, for shame.’
‘Don’t you shame me, soldier,’
the witch forthright declaims,
‘That hare is running wild and free
’tis you should feel the shame.’

Polly Stretton © 2019



1 Comment

This is the state…

…of my kitchen. It’s a galley kitchen, so you’d think it wouldn’t take much ‘designing’, but, because of alcoves, butchers block etc, it has taken some arranging. The new one should arrive in February. I – can’t – wait. 😄🤣

Kitchen January 2019


2 Comments

No Small Trifle

T’was the night before Christmas
and, in our house
nothing was stirring,
no rat, bat or mouse,
but mousse made appearance
and trifle with cream,
it’s Christmas eve,
time to fantasise, dream.
The tree is waiting
for baubles and balls,
holly and ivy
deck up the halls,
home is so…homely
at Christmas
and neat,
with carpets fresh vacuumed
and dusting complete.
Parsnips, potatoes,
sprouts and fine wine,
sherry and cabbage
and walnuts sublime;
bacon and turkey,
pudding and snow,
pigs in their blankets,
tree lights all aglow.
Christmas memories of bygone years,
look to the future,
enjoy a few beers.

Polly Stretton © 2018