Polly Stretton is a writer and poet. Formerly a director of Worcestershire LitFest & Fringe, she now judges their Young Writer and Flash Fiction Competitions as part of Black Pear Press. Polly was one of the Croome Poets and an art resident at Croome Court in Worcestershire. Two of her poems were displayed in the basement of Croome for the Sole to Soul project. She was a contributor to the former Living Library for Blessed Edward Oldcorne and was the original poetry walk leader for the Evesham Festival of Words. Between 2016-2018 she collated four poetry anthologies about WWI for the one-hundred-year commemorations. She attends the hybrid event 42Worcester online on the 'last Tuesday of the month' which is live at St Swithun's church in Worcester. Formed in 2011, it's the longest-running spoken word event in Worcester. 'Girl’s Got Rhythm', her first poetry collection, was reprinted by Black Pear Press (2016), which also published 'Chatterton', (2014), 'The Alchemy of 42' (2020), and 'Growing Places' (2021). She continues to edit poetry and fiction for Black Pear Press. She enjoys the Malvern Spoken Word events online and live, the monthly online Worcestershire Library Poetry Bubble with Amanda Bonnick, and is also a member of the Malvern Writers' Circle and the Society of Authors. https://journalread.com
not sorry yet four-year-old legs pumping running away ma shouts after me 'come back' sister wails ma is livid i pushed the bowl downstairs this is how she sees it it is my fault a tall ten-pint goldfish bowl three goldfish i run down the meadow behind our house it is hay-making time yellow grass scent and dust tickle my nose and make me sneeze sneeze stops me for long enough she catches me i have glanced behind in my run and seen her struggling with my little sister but ma is grim-faced and determined that i will be caught and punished it was an accident i tripped knocked into the bowl which bounced down each stair fish flying water arcing the finest mirrored droplets splash the sound of breaking glass tinkles downwards she comes out of the kitchen babe on hip and roars 'nooooo' i flee out the open door my legs pump i feel my heart i hear my breath coming jagged i smell the hay i sneeze she catches me she screams thrashes me and at each step thrashes me again all up the meadow back into the house she is crying hot angry tears me howling mortified indignant rebellious an accident i sob my jaw jutting i am but four-years-old not sorry yet Polly Stretton © 2012
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.
No comments posted yet.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.