Poetry Blog by Isobel

My daughter  collects stones,

tears them out from sodden soily beds,

or picks them from the pile,

stashes them in pockets

till linings tear

and washing machine clatters

to the awkward beat

of a battered drum.

And though I chide her for the damage,

I know she can't resist

the clasp, the cut,

the spit, the rub

the nub and polish of them,

each stone its own...

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Howdie folks.  I've been invited to spout some poetry and play some favourite tracks on a local Wirral radio station on Wednesday.   I've no idea what the frequency is but this is the web link, in case anyone feels like listening to the show.  The show starts at 2pm - though I might not get there till going on 2.30.

 http://www.vintageradio.org.uk/

Isobel x

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