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:
in the silent
A sunlit room,
in a snapshot of time.
cast darkness on sills.
A frozen head
time stands still.
It is 10:30.
It remains 10:30.
It will never be other
Polly Stretton © 2016
Good to see one of my poems featured on the VerseWrights website and Facebook page
‘Volunteers’ was inspired by Rodin’s fabulous sculpture in Calais from 1889 – according to Linduff et al it serves as a monument to an occurrence in 1347 during the Hundred Years’ War, when Calais, an important French port on the English Channel, was under siege by the English for over a year. Calais commissioned Rodin to create the sculpture in 1884.
The Burghers of Calais by Auguste Rodin
 Linduff, David G. Wilkins, Bernard Schultz, Katheryn M. (1994). Art past, art present (2nd ed. ed.). Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall. p. 454. ISBN 0-13-062084-X.
District Governor Jan Harris held an outstanding conference in Bournemouth last weekend. I co-hosted the ‘Oscars’ evening, an occasion where Jan acknowledged district members who have worked with her throughout the Rotary year.
We had a fabulous evening, and as you can see, I was surrounded by handsome men – Oscar and Oliver 😉
A beautiful poem from a beautiful woman, my dear friend, Catherine – and what a talent! What say you, fellow bloggers?
LADY OF THE LANDSCAPE: TRANSIENT MOTIONS
(All Things Must Pass)
People scratch you. Attempt to break your willow skin.
You will not scar. You’ve come too far.
You wake what is within.
The words amaze at all these days, he pulls
your petticoat. Like a child’s eyes packed
full of lies, your ‘best friend’ come to gloat.
Keep the ascent my mountain mother,
words caught from seabeds in your
You house the collective psyche of
all that might and might not be.
You form the ancient avenues of rivers
rolling through. You are the violet voice
of jay today and tomorrow’s pigeon coo.
You run the day that lies ahead with
celestial composure, the nimble nimbus
in parallel working to enclose you.
As if from nowhere, dappled star shine
spreads itself on winter’s woodland floor.
Complexity compels you, transient
patterns you adore.
Catherine Norris © 2013