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:
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
Move away from the waste paper bin.
Move away from the waste paper bin.
Little dogs mustn’t go in the waste paper bin.
Little dogs mustn’t go in the waste paper bin.
I know it’s fun, all that crinkly paper.
I know it’s fun, all that crinkly paper.
Move away from the waste paper bin.
Repetition becomes tedious.
I am patient.
I am patient.
Polly Stretton © 2016
Christmas, and there’s
no snow.
Rain floods runnels,
banshees howl about the house.
Trees lurch, screaming,
torrents teeming,
roads dammed
across the land.
Close to New Year, and there’s
no snow. No icicles.
Nationwide: the floods.
And on we go to
see the wraith of
seasons gone,
the phantom here,
the ghost of those to come.
New Year, and there’s
no snow. No icicles. No frost.
Savage spectre of what is lost.
Seasons change.
Extremes occur:
spring’s like summer
used to be. Summer’s short.
Autumn comes early.
And so it goes from year to year
the seasons change, become austere.
Those who live with constant jeers
say this: until we do something,
until we care,
it’s our world, our earth,
whose fate
we share.
Polly Stretton © 2012
I am posting this for Claudia’s Change & Turns at dVerse Poets
Each year, since 23 May 1973,
she remembers the child who never was.
The child who is and never was.
She hears the nurse say, ‘don’t look.’
How could anyone not look?
As if by not looking, he could be forgotten.
Forty years on
the shroud of grief cobwebs yet;
tightens her chest, tautens her neck.
Babe dead, mother dying inside.
She still sees his fingernails, perfect hands and feet.
Legs curled, foetal,
just as he lay inside her.
Still wanted, still loved, still missed.
Each year she thinks of the child
who never was.
Polly Stretton © 2012
Last Saturday saw the final of the first Worcestershire LitFest & Fringe Flash Fiction competition that was organised by author Lindsay Stanberry-Flynn as part of the Worcestershire Literary Festival. The competition was judged by Lindsay and by Calum Kerr, the King of Flash Fiction himself! Calum had only recently completed National Flash Fiction Day and also a whole year of writing a Flash every day, you may have heard about it on BBC Radio.
Maybe those who didn’t enter this time would like to see the finalists’ work—there were nearly 100 entries from all over the UK and from further afield. A Worcestershire writer, Amy Rainbow, was the winner. Most of the flash writers were present on Saturday and read out their work, suffice it to say that Amy’s flash moved many people to tears. Plans are already being made to run the competition again in 2013.
You can get A Flash Of Fiction, the anthology created from the submissions, from the publishers: Black Pear Press. Click here for details and scroll to the base of the page.
Hi everyone, I’m just back from a long weekend in New York with my friend, Angie, we had a fab time, it was hot and sunny and … beautiful. We went to Freedom Tower (Ground Zero) and saw the wonderful work continuing there; to Niagara Falls, what an experience; took in a Broadway show Priscilla Queen of the Desert; ate too much; walked for miles; chilled in Central Park – and now we’re back home and I’m catching up with hundreds of emails and the blog. And goodness me, blogging peeps, you have been busy while I’ve been away! Sorry if I don’t get around to commenting on the wonderful work you did while I was off enjoying myself 😉 but think you’ll understand. Maybe some poems will transpire as a result of my travels … what think you?
Here are some pics that I took – hope you like them.
Freedom Tower
Freedom Tower – officially the tallest building in New York – just higher than the Empire State Building and still going up!
Niagara, or Horseshoe Falls
The fabulous Niagara, or Horseshoe Falls taken from The Maid of the Mist en route to the swirling waters below
Broadway
A shot of Broadway – early evening – May 2012
A puppeteer in Central Park
The children were enthralled by the magician puppet in Central Park
Happy Sunday afternoon to everyone.
Lindsay said she’d like to hear The Robin Song so you’ll find an audio file here dedicated to Lindsay.
I’m still experimenting with the visuals for audio files and am very much learning about how to do this, hints and tips would be welcome.
I would also like to hear your thoughts on whether audios add a dimension to or detract from the poem in its written form.
So, you will see below a link entitled ‘audio file’, which, if you click on it, should open up in YouTube.
I received this award from Catherine Crosswell, thank you Catherine. I’m really pleased to accept it (and delightfully surprised!)
Part of the deal is that I have to nominate more bloggers for the award, I nominate: Holly Magill and Eve Redwater, amazingly creative peeps. Click on the links to explore their work, I’m sure you’ll agree they’re all worth a visit.
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