Polly Richardson (Munnelly) Polly is a Dublin born poet now living and writing on the Dingle Peninsula, Kerry, Ireland. She has been published both nationally and internationally in many anthologies and e-zines under the surname of Munnelly and more recently Richardson. A contributing poet to US-based poetry forum Mad Swirl and Europe’s Live Encounters digi mag with poems featuring in Boston’s Nixes Mate review, Porter Gulch Review Cabrillo college US, Italian based Lotus Eater mag and member of and co-runs Navan creative writers group: The Bulls Arse. She has been heard reading at national and international poetry festivals from 2013 to 2019 including Trim’s (Meath Ireland) first poetry festival in 2019. She also has been heard at open mic nights all over Ireland and via Skype for the second time to Dallas when Mad Swirl went live launching their best of anthology 2018 in 2019. In 2017 she worked with Frisian poet and the now Netherlands Laureate Teasd Brunja in Harrlem in Amsterdam. Her debut collection Winters Breath was launched with Impspired early September 2020 and is available on Amazon . She’s currently working on her second collection.

 Plums

Seedlings curl into, unto themselves upon haven’s dream
buried in depth of earthen damp darkness,
 succulent womb of lullabies already sung,
 of ripening saps to have, behold ©marinaded in perfect evolutions. 
 And ravens delight caw out to moon hanging by its core,
waiting for seasons turns, my hand lays bare doused in hopes
of between fingers-sticky- messes-gape 
as parting lips bulge their fill and summer 
drips sweet sickly juices. I bathe in purple jam while 
winter croons these sinking bones.  And plums will sit in waiting. 

Devils Doorbell –

Inspired by Ballyseedy woods Kerry, Ireland.

There’s a saying bad energy lingers in places 
of traumatic endings latching on filling entire place, 
lost in webs of betrayal, uneasy, un-resting, unfinished 
laying layers rooting so deep in earth not even
evolutions could shift its weight, that voice inside
 that pleads you don’t, no don’t go
halts you when eyes fall over moody gate in waiting
yet the call to thirsting’s from skin to seek forests carpet,
feel it’s damp falls on blinking lashes, fingers caresses
 of furry trunks in moss dresses, smelling
all splendours of wilds own feasts lurs you in to darkening fodder
that sense of something horrific moves into entire being 
the moment one-foot indents that sod, grasps a hold
winding itself like snake on prey taking breath, direction 
all sense of wonder, standing each hair on neck alert 
the silent cries of trees penetrate pits of bellies forcing 
out gasps from mouths beneath their canopy’s autumnal 
wintery creaks
becoming changelings as flashes of its history impregnates minds
torrents of images flood till whole body bends with that heaviness 
beside ruins hidden in those depths - spills out its own horror, eaves 
long since sunk with the rotting unable take, trap or keep its secrets.

Samhain             

There’s a murmuring within the air, earth, sea
on that hill where those first fires once were lit,
a sense of shift, a coming of, turning to
 a tingling in pits of bellies, a glimpse 
in dreams so real, full of butterflies,
upon stirring indents on beds are warm
on the outside of witching hour,
ears damp with whisper heat despite just 
 shadows and fluff sitting idle as sleep
graces this room, 
that ever thinning vale almost open  
between us and them, her, what lays beneath 
what comes above singing in gentle breeze 
and static crackles of radio more regular than before
as the fires light, foods from harvest fill
bare shelfs waiting to be gorged. And she calls
closer than before, enveloping this whole space
stroking tops and side of head, stronger with her touch 
my neck hairs tingle with silent dance - she calls,
and dog wags tail a few more times 
 at the nothing into ebony darker than himself 
sighs a knowing in complete content, her whispers in nights still,
come easier, fuller as moon, and I listen purr out I know.

Note: Samhain – SAH-win; marking the end of harvest season beginning of Winter. Fires lit during celebrations upon sunset oct 31^st to sunrise Nov 1^st,the vale between other worlds becoming thinner.