Polly Richardson – Poetry


Egg 
 
One half. Sustenance.
Penetrative probably.
 
Unholdable glop between fingers,
life’s possibilities, licked-sucked.
 
From safety of implantations
bare itself nude 
                                                         
like watching sun spread, as if melt away butter
surrendering to dirt taking grit along the way,
 
 compostable
do they know?
 
Sticky messes, where it all began, before before.
Hunted.
 
Artistic foundations hatching priceless, blood spilled painted pavements.
One crack crushes inner euphoria.
 
Always wondered why rabbit?
 
From encasement, hatchlings disregards despite incubation.
Bounteous,
 
some dormant, redundant, birthing what if’s
in dreams, nurse nuzzle- snuffles, sit under rainbow and sail,        
 
each time at sun rise, conscious wonders wash over,
 till full beam exhale selecting todays smile to dress
 and carry forward laughter linking that unfillable void,
remembering she too once was egg, unholdable glop between fingers.

             Heron –  Ode to King Freddie…     
 
      He waits- his stillness in rushes under pressure,
                                Statued,
                the champion feathered fisher
           his rhapsody- magic kind, rapided bewitching gills,
      Slender curvature necks-out eyeing invisible – possible procrastinations,    
            un-noticeable to sheep and glass-eyed,
 yawing wings flap engulf missed annoyance tuning inner radio live
    echoing ay -oh to shoals -diversity of creation.
         His patients reflect perfection darling, will rock you. Stun,
the fish performs his ritual flap, kinging rapids wanting all,
                              breaks free
  finding someone to love through hordes of manipulating gushes
      till sleep stills, immortalised with in weaves of sound waves.

 Yellow flower holds
Sun drops licking nectar
  silent sustenance
delicacy - honeying bees,
roping strands kissing sap trickled from Oak
and dog piss- marking it theirs,
        blinking Iris runs acidic tears
           long before the uproot
 and closing of eyes inhale he loves me nots,
long before yellow roses say goodbye to
lights just gone out, looking pretty on wooden boxes
holding the succulence
      ready for lowering to darken roots
                     or released to moon-chime,
                        the palming I dos. All the tears that tear
                    petals to wind,
                all the little things,
                      yellow flower holds all
  Old infirmary -1800
Creak the floors drenched in screams
           the howling cracks
   What secretes do you weep?
 
Creak the floors white coats stalk
  beyond briars green grasses taunt
       did they pick, pick, pick
               dragging walls
                 the crucifix .
              Come the dawn
                lay ye to rest.
 
Creak the floors, windows fingered
   Stripped- the bearings
       nuts and bolts,
         How many sheets streaked
           blessed be in his ‘holy’ name
             Spill the blood that
                 dare to speak,
       
                Creak floors creak
                    tell me now
                  did Marys rock?
       
                  pick, pick, pick
       pulling strands mumbling bald
     tapping window, counting sheep
          on their knees fisting thighs
 embryonic rivers seep
    greying cloud – howl.
   
       A-tishoo   , a-tishoo we down fall
           Did the floors creak
              as lands winter barren
         Hush, hush reapers waiting brushing sour corn
                          Her rushing waters whip  Bru  na Boinne
                                  the gathering flock bleat bleat – no ring a  Rosie
                       sinner sinner, insane, insane !
 
        Creek the floors white coats stalk
       Cough- cough red, boring holes deep in her branches
           Lungs dying, dying dead.
 
              Flicker paraffin- the final show
               Shadows quiver lower heads
          New meat slabbed, savaged rooted
                 Gather-sitched xxx
        Bulging eyes don’t bare no silver.   
 
Blueberry Surprise
 
paradoxes in universe,
                   in mind,
                    in state
layer themselves into the minds that crave
the knowing
the   roots to time stood still
the density of raindrop,
 
as each microscopic reflection of everything contained
reveals itself in momentous - movement slothing to eye,
hears its fall
amongst each leaf russle, their whispers to ears that see,
feel its scent caress follicles, erecting, full dilations of
every chosen pore
 
drink each droplet, its rainbow radiating full, 
while blueberries hang-sway as if natures metronomes to her symphony’s play,
 each new dew drop held on delicate, yet stubborn skin catch sun-
 world unto itself, surviving the harshest of rugged gnarliness
yet crushed in singular momentous movement succulently ravaged by teeth
beak or worm
 climax minds still enough to listen season, marinate for own ingestion
the day dreamers
the solitary
the crafting crafters creating draft after draft, 
paradoxes only to universally  closed eyes muted.
 
     Milk            
  Spilling.
Tongued from
 first moments –
nipple to mouth,
 in abundance.
One drop - life,
       Mother.
        no matter
             the
              drought.
 

  Gorse
He plucked them. Careful lip curve around yellow head,
teeth displayed barely years - full clasp in between nips.
 
This giant, delicate touch to ingest
despite thorning tongue,
muzzle pout part, curling upper lip twitch to intoxicate senses,
revealing unblemished inner pinkness, untouched as new-born,
 
Creases mouth corners to crescent moon, a smile
that penetrates light even into the darkest of crevices,
 
             pools drool, soaking
        chin - grove wobble.
  Almost childish.
Almost clownish.
  
Each damp whisker, receptor, whiter than snow sense euphoria,
that eye rarer than *painite gem fused with *taaefite catch reflections of 
 summer, blink to flutter-flick forward mane over *forelock
out of sight, yet,
 
that sigh inhales July’s nectar silking nostrils, snorts out complete content,
 ear rotations pause turn, tune to hums of nature’s hymn,
 that hind leg, shifts a rest from right to left. Feathers dance in still air frame
 balancing hoof, toe tip brush- kiss to earth, rise dust swirls to swarm the dung flies.
 
 
That rump whiting, pinked under hair glisten. Fuse. Flecking
black patches as if perfect jigsaw pieces placed precisely 
 roasted from baking grass roll despite swishing tail swats to nagging gnats,
 
That neck muscle toned. Sturdy. Purer than virgins basking, holds
his head precisely poised at gorse blooming.
White star on ebony forehead runs cosmic nova flare to you, Apollo
 
I ingested, drank you in for this consumption.
 
for this consumption
for this consumption.
 
I part lip to pluck. Careful curl around yellow head, sweetness bites,
prefect calm whispering whinnies to wind song carry’s of you,
these ear turns to tune, Apollo 
 I lay a lean,  that listening shoulder my eyes trace, follow in
shift hind to hind, hoof rests my weighted weightless
far removed from fearing fear, those beatings till bursting red rivers soaking
my skeleton, dragging scalded skin,
that trust eventually - my head, these ears, your lap, years and gorse.
 
 Authors note : *Painite rarest gem, dark chocolate red hues, founded in 1951 by Arthur Charles Davy Pain.
*Taaefite : Flecks of Mauve, glass like. Accidentally discovered by Dubliner jeweller in 1940 when he thought he had a collection of spinel’s.
*Forelock – fringe like, part of mane that grows down over horses forehead, between ears.

   

Polly Richardson (Munnelly) is a Dublin born poet now living and writing in Meath. She has been published both nationally and internationally in many anthologies and e-zine under the surname of Munnelly and more recently Richardson. (For the full biography, please see Short Fiction)

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