Poetry Blog by Judi Strega

Recent Comments

Jackie Phillips on Bed (Tue, 31 Mar 2015 11:46 am)

Judi Strega on Freedom of Thought (Wed, 31 Dec 2014 08:20 pm)

Judi Strega on Shipwreck (Wed, 24 Dec 2014 06:14 am)

Graham Sherwood on Shipwreck (Thu, 18 Dec 2014 12:41 pm)

Laura Taylor on Shipwreck (Wed, 17 Dec 2014 11:28 am)

Judi Strega on Shipwreck (Tue, 16 Dec 2014 08:53 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Shipwreck (Mon, 15 Dec 2014 07:53 pm)

Alexandra Parapadakis on Shipwreck (Sat, 13 Dec 2014 05:02 pm)

Judi Strega on Shipwreck (Sat, 13 Dec 2014 04:52 pm)

Laura Taylor on Anniversary (Tue, 9 Dec 2014 09:54 am)


I wake sometimes and reach out to touch you, 

forget, in sleep, I'm all alone in bed.

I'm left to take pleasure from all this space,

this cool expanse of uncreased sheet instead

If we had not parted as enemies,

if your fear had not driven me away,

would you still be lying here, I wonder,

waiting for my touch to give you the ok?

I dream of your warm body sometimes,

I marv...

Read and leave comments (1)

Freedom of Thought

I can't think inside this house.
My thoughts have no room at all.
They struggle, battling each other for space,
jostling against hard, closed walls,
reeling back to me clumsily,
angry, trapped and bitter,
inflicting the darkest mood.

I need wide open spaces
to send thoughts soaring away,
to circle around and arrange themselves
sweeping  along the bay,
over the rocks and over the sea, 

Read and leave comments (1)


I liked the look of you 

unpolished I suppose

and as long as you didn't impose yourself

I was happy to spend some time well

I had repelled so many boarders 

I met each friendly quip

with a curl of my lip 

to make sure this ship sailed on alone

It took a long time to trust you 

to adjust to every day 

yes every day I'd ask myself 

how I felt about you did I love you


Read and leave comments (7)


that night, I woke and remembered 
wrapped in grief 
in the tangle of my sheets
I couldn't sleep 
I wound your old sweater round my neck 
sinking in 
breathing in the very scent of you

by the lake, gusts of wind stirred the leaves
the shivering trees
flashing lights from passing cars lit the shallows
shoals of ghostly fish slid by  
like traffic on a neon-lit motorway 
mimicking the ...

Read and leave comments (4)


I have a letter.  It is my most precious possession.
I keep it safe, tucked into the sails of a painted boat
made in China, designed to remind of a seaside lifestyle. 
I don't know why I bought it as I do live by the sea, 
though I don't have a 'lifestyle' - just a life.
I painted the cotton sails duck egg blue 
to match cushions I made, so there is 'style' too,
 - not just a ho...

Read and leave comments (6)

A Mother's Lament

For many years I led the way
until you joined me at my side.
Now you're striding out in front,
and leaving me behind.

Sometimes, I have called you back
and you have answered as before
but my voice is getting weak,
the miles between too far.

For you have your own roads to tread
and your own loved ones walk behind.
Until they start to catch you up,
your time is theirs, not mine.


Read and leave comments (4)


The ventriloquist comes out onto the stage
with a suitcase and slowly opens the lid
revealing a ragbag of characters, just as I do, as I once did.
As a sad little girl, my running-away suitcase
held my pencils, paper and Nicky, my doll.
All that I held precious was there in that case and that didn't change at all.
In the 60s, my fab pull-along suitcase
with Mary Quant daisies all over the l...

Read and leave comments (3)

The 25th Floor

Excitedly I read your text:
'I've found a room for us.'
'In London?' 'Not quite -  in Ilford.'
I mustn't make a fuss, 
but I didn't think you were serious at all.
Anyway, Ilford's in Essex, 
How do I get there from Cornwall? 

'A room on the 25th floor', you said,
'just seventeen-fifty a night.
I've booked it for the coming weekend
so get there early on Friday night'.
No cheap seats ...

Read and leave comments (2)

Tea Rooms

I've become a daytime, weekday friend,
I never get invited out at weekend.
I'm part of a sub-class who's without a bloke,
lives alone on a pension, usually broke.
From Monday to Friday, between ten and five,
I'll share a latte, a lunch or a drive.
I'm game for a laugh, won't do kiss-and-tell
so I come in handy and scrub up quite well.
We meet in tea rooms, kiss cheeks 'cross the table
I l...

Read and leave comments (8)

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message