Merry Christmas one and all
13th December
Durn it, I’m a day late posting this…not to worry, those who are interested will see it anyway đ
13th December
Invoke the light in the midst of winter,
gingerbread, cups of glogg, saffron buns,
almonds and raisins,
wreathes of candles
to honour St Lucy
on this special day.
‘It is believed that the tradition of Saint Lucy ‘Lucia’ Day was brought to Nordic countries by monks and missionaries during the Middle Ages.
St. Lucia’s story likely originates from Syracuse, Sicily, where she was born to noble Christian parents. After her mother’s miraculous healing at the shrine of Saint Agatha, Lucia dedicated her life to serving the poor and needy.
St. Lucia is often portrayed with a wreath of candles on her head, symbolizing the light of her faith.
In the city of York, the historic York Minster usually hosts a Lucia concert featuring traditional Swedish carols.’
Source (retrieved 2023)
Improvise
Beer and cider foam, as twenty musicians
slope and saunter into the pub.
They sit then unpack.
Vocalists grin, shoulders back,
lungs and tongues happy.
The violin enters, haunts the bar,
harmonica echoes bleat
notes bouncing among squealing guitars.
Jammin’.
The woman in a floral hat
sings along.
Polly Stretton
Bittersweet
I saw him
walking with his children
at the funfair.
A light day, a spritely day,
a visionary, unsightly day.
I followed,
heaving through crowds,
breathless,
deathless,
desperate
to exhale what’s left
to speak to him.
One frantic romantic.
As I got closer
it was clear
ââsevereââ
the day chilled,
my tight throat angst-filled,
it wasn’t him.
I folded in upon myself.
Paragram 2016
Growing Places Black Pear Press 2021
Regimen
Regimented childhood
put an arm around yourself
allow the shell to break
dust off shattered residue
be a leaf on a river
Polly Stretton
Mulberry
In physic gardens, the silkworms’ passion:
a legendary lust for sweet, scented leaves.
Monks care for striplings, pollen meets stigma,
conception, seeds swell, there is fruit on trees.
The source of soft silk: bending sapling grows,Â
Bombyx mori* spin, memorising aught,
from the knotty gnarled trees, white mulberries,
come gowns for the fine-boned folk of the court.
Yet the cloth they cherish, formed via leaf,
honeyed sheen, textured touch, treasured motif,
greenness presents what’s too hard to import,
to confuse black and white takes little thought.
Those with or without homes, well, or infirm,
revere the results from a lowly worm.
*Bombyx mori: the silk moth
Š 2022Â
A Solstice Poem
Calliope’s Solstice
Calliope’s trees, sites of ancient rites;
larks’ liquid notes witness eyes shut tight,
as she reads of romance, relates pure words
to celebrate life and the rising birds.
Calliope[1] reads poetry, voice clear;
rests against rock in sun; a windborne smear
of wild sage, dense scent caught in sultry waves.
Cliffs, millennia old, with smooth-edged caves
and a wishing tree, hawthorn, plump, unscathed
where the muses danced and a hermit bathed
in a curative well for his sore eyes.
Rocks and dust below the roots of a wiseÂ
white poplar hold a grain of crystallite.
It’s midsummerâsultryâsummer solstice.
Š 2024 Polly Stretton
[1] With a name literally meaning “beautiful-voiced” (from kallos, meaning “beauty,” and ops, meaning “voice”), Calliope was the most prominent of the Musesâthe nine sister goddesses who in Greek mythology presided over poetry, song, the arts and sciences.
BreathlessâBreathe More Exhibition
The launch of the BreathlessâBreathe More Exhibition organised by Leena Batchelor of Script Haven and Susan Birth and supported by Bevere Galley and Worcestershire LitFest took place on Saturday 15 June. What an event! Poets and artists met each other and were able to see the full exhibition of their work and many of the poets read their poems, reading on behalf of the few poets who couldn’t make it. The exhibition will be on display at Script Haven until the end of June.
Handicaps
At an online spoken word event last night with Malvern Spoken Word, I read this poem which was penned for a publication to commemorate World War One. The anthology, Voices of 1919, was collated by Mike Alma, who invited local poets to write about a street in a village as the war came to an end. Mike supplied fictional addresses and families and allocated specific addresses to each poet.
Handicaps
Edith Hobday, at number fourteen,
eyes her Sarah. Sarah’s eyes gleam
yellow, like her skin, the pallor of wax,
a ‘canary girl’, munitions are packed;
life and death weigh heavy on backs.
Lawrie, he’s dour, too old to serve,
it would have been better to be a reserve.
He resented the lads away at war,
kept getting at John, getting bored.
While Edith gives thanks and praises the Lord.
Without the allotment, where would he be?
Good job all gardens are dug for victory.
Lawrie moans and groans all contradictory,
he carries on at John; like a plane, he drones
about now’t being right, and the pain in his bones.Â
John is strapping for only fifteen,
Edith’s glad he’s young, imagine the scene
if all three were goneâGod knows John’s keenâ
two’s bad enough. And Sarah’s so grim,
she’s losing weight, becoming thin.
The fragrance of stew from number thirteen
Edith must put something in the tureen,
thinks of her lads, wonders how they’ve been,
their letters full of ‘send this, send that’,
no idea of her handicapsâŚ
Š 2016 Polly Stretton
Voices of 1919 collated by Mike Alma (Hen Race Press 2016)
Here’s a promo from one of the events that was held at the time:
Precambrian Dragon
Alive on a sleeping dragon,
our breath cuts in short bursts.
The path becomes steeper, greenery deeper.
We aim for the top. Erupted rock
allows a slip and clamber over scrub grass.
The silky reservoir ripples,
sparks in sunlight below.
Many millions of years ago
magma, once cooled by sea water,
coagulated
and volcanic lava made bedrock unthought of beneath our feet
where pheasants’ ground-nest,
we sit quiet, rest
in scents of bracken, valerian, thyme drifts.
Rabbits romp on distant rises,
a hawk, a buzzard,
a flock of joyous swifts carve the morning air in screaming parties,
catch insects on the wing.
Adders and grass snakes sense
too many feet on this desiccated earth,
bewitched by bluebells in May,
enchanted in echoes of church bells’
thrumming tintinnabulation,
symbols of beginnings, endings,
a call to order, a command or warning
conjuring spirits of giants long gone.
2023 revised 2025 Š Polly Stretton
Openings 40 OU Poets anthology 2023
Breathless â Breathe More
Do visit this exhibition in June if you can – my poem ‘Breathe’ will be there – thank you to the organisers.
Family PalmsÂ
I meet him halfway,Â
in a cafĂŠÂ
between his home and mine.
My heart rants and rails,
impaled, yet veiled.
We walk slowlyâat firstâ
then we run.
Overwhelmedâtogether.
He wears a tweed jacket,
rough and fragrant;
hugs me closeÂ
like we’ve known each other always.
Inside the cafĂŠ, we can’t stop,Â
can’t stop talking,
âtalkingâ
until I notice his hands,Â
his hands.
I take his in my own,Â
turn it palm upwards
âmine tooâ
there’s no doubt:
carbon copies.
Father and daughter meet at last.
Hands revealed.
Hearts unveiled
in the palms of our hands.
Š 2019 Polly Stretton
Submission guidelines for a new anthology
News from Charley Barnes and Claire Walker.
Case Studies: the craft of care is a new anthology project edited by Charley Barnes and Claire Walker. The anthology will focus on all interpretations of the theme of caregiving – caring for loved ones, parenthood, nursing and professional care, self-care, care for the environment, and so on.
They are looking for poetry and creative nonfiction responses to this versatile and far-reaching subject. Submissions open on 1st March, and full guidelines can be found at https://caregivinganthology.wordpress.com/
They would love to consider your work! 
Drop-in / Review with Nigel Kent and Adrian Green
‘Raw’ in two exhibitions
Lovely to see my poem ‘Raw’ on display in Malvern at the outdoor exhibition by Malvern Spoken Word poets, it was also in The Hive as part of the ‘My Worcestershire’ project which included poems from poets all over the world who are part of the Poetry Bubble. The Malvern Spoken Word exhibition continues until February 2024.
Photo by Polly Stretton December 2023
Photo by Io Osborn January 2023
A Confession to Agata
A Confession to Agata
after William Carlos Williams
Â
We have eaten
the blackberry jam
that was in
the fridge
and which
you were probably
wishing you still had
for breakfast.
Forgive us.
It was delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
Â
Š 2023 Polly Stretton
The Wait
I wait for something
anything
to cut through the ennui
something to stimulate my sleeping muse
Š 2023 Polly Stretton
Fifteen Minutes of Fame
Let’s get on a reality show
and get ourselves embarrassed
by our shopping habits
or performing rabbits,
or the way we sing a note;
maybe how we choose to bake,
or even how we sew.
Could be more
than fifteen minutes,
I have to agree with the pedantsâŚ
the point’s the same,
in any game:
fifteen minutes
of so-called fame.
Š 2023 Polly Stretton
Observations
I once had a book called, ‘The Face’.
It was when interest in body language was growing,
and described how we see ourselves,
how we see others,
how others see us.
All dependent on who was doing the seeing.
Look in the mirror and what do you see?
Does it depend on your mood?
Do we see deeper lines,
more wrinkles or more beauty
than others perceive?
Does it matter?
2023 Š Polly Stretton
journalread 