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Writings and Witterings


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Calling the Years

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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


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I Will Wear My Pearls Today

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I will wear my pearls today
a reminder of gentler times
when the world spun soft on its axis

Polly Stretton © 2020

napowrimo #2


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Bridge of Scope

Napowrimo 2020

 

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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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


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‘Pressed Flowers’ eBook

Thought you’d like to see this beautiful poetry anthology pamphlet from Black Pear Press – an uplifting read.

Polly's avatarBlack Pear Press

And today we celebrate the publication of the eBook ‘Pressed Flowers’ poetry anthology pamphlet – happy days! To get your copy click here.

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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


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Update re Launch of ‘Pressed Flowers’

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A wonderful, touching launch evening with all the poets who wrote for Pressed Flowers. This anthology of poems is a gorgeously uplifting collection of poetry from poets in Worcestershire and beyond. Pressed Flowers, collated by Worcestershire Poet Laureate 2019 Charley Barnes in cahoots with Polly Stretton of Black Pear Press is full of joy and beauty.

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Get your copy of Pressed Flowers direct from Black Pear Press


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Turkish Delight

An ekphrasic poem, written to the delightful painting by Bob Addy as part of the Droitwich Arts Network event in 2018. Many thanks to Bob for the image and to Nina Lewis for organising the poets attending the event.

Turkish Dancer - Bob Addy

‘Turkish Dancer’ with acknowledgement and thanks to Bob Addy

Turkish Delight

Like a whirling dervish,
lost in the power of dance,
exuberance defined
by movement to music,
alizarine, paynes grey, vermilion, green gold,
heard or unheard
song of the soul,
rhythm in the whole,
mad, wild, joy;
fierce, furious, fabulous.
See wine spill from her cup,
splash her outstretched arm.
Plaits flying, eyes flare,
she whirls, twirls, is a girl
showing what she can do
in the sateen sheen
of the artist’s acrylic paint.
Love her energy,
from the Topkapı Palace
to the Blue Mosque
—all before and all since—
clattering beads, silent flowers,
harem pants and cymbals
clash as she goes.

Polly Stretton © 2018


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All Over

Next time the blossom’s
on the laburnum
a tiresome episode will be over.
All things pass.

Polly Stretton © 2015

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With acknowledgement to crocus.co.uk

…and it was true 🙂


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‘Copycat’ by C. S. Barnes

Can’t wait to read it!

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Copycat: a mind blowing mystery thriller by [Barnes, C.S.]Synopsis

When the body of a young woman, Jenni Grantham, is found abandoned, DI Melanie Watton and her team are called to investigate. It soon becomes apparent that the murder, the method and the appearance of the victim, is something they have seen before.

With the help of Medical Examiner George Waller, DI Watton uncovers the case history of Michael Richards – a local murderer who killed five women before turning himself in.

Further investigations reveal that Jenni was recently reported missing by her parents. And when Jenni’s personal effects are explored, shocking discoveries are made about the victim’s fascination with the original killings.

However, when the ME makes a surprise discovery, DI Watton realises that Jenni was perhaps not the only local with a fixation on these infamous killings.

With a copycat killer on the loose, the team know it is only a matter of time before another body…

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Froggie Has Friends

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A second little frog has joined Mr Jeremy Fisher in our tiny ‘fairy’ pond and we have a minute newt too!


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Rampant! Bishops Weed AKA Ground Elder

Such pretty leaves, reminiscent of Angelica, but this plant is anything but angelic…it’s an  invasive weed called Ground Elder or Aegopodium podagraria L. Its flower shape is one of my favourites, umbreliform and beautiful.

Like many plants, this one enjoys lots of different names: the two in the heading, plus it’s known as gout weed and goat weed. But I don’t care how many names it has, I don’t have a place for it in my garden, it’s a thug. So I set to work.

Have you tackled this weed? Is it now all gone from your garden? Let me know, truly, I’m interested 😆

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Ground elder – roots hiding between and under buddliea and cornflower roots

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The buddliea you can see bottom left will have to be lifted to dig out all the ground elder roots

and my next task will be addressing…bindweed.


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Advantage

I took advantage of everywhere being in chaos as the new kitchen is fitted and also of the unseasonable weather. Out to do some work in the garden. I got prepared:

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and then started on a sorry looking lonicera…

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Happy days 😆


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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 🙂


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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



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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


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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

Photos of LitFest Christmas Fayre

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Some lovely memories from 2013 – friends enjoying a special day 🙂

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Was ever anyone so blessed? So many lovely people at the Christmas Fayre today. More pics to follow of the Black Pear Press launch 🙂

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This gallery contains 27 photos