Author Archives: Sarah Dolan

About Sarah Dolan

long distance member - across the border and a long way away ...

The hospice

in here each of us is waiting
waiting for the next delivery of laundry
to arrive
wrapped in plastic
neatly folded
lightly scented
looks as if it has never been used before

waiting for the next visitor
to arrive
with pots in plants
wrapped in plastic
carefully chosen
lightly scented
just about to flower

in here each of us is neatly folded
lightly scented
waiting to be wrapped in plastic

the deaf poet

simmers a soup of leftovers
whilst he searches for the right paper
without lines
without margins

he settles down to scratch his creative itch
with a yellowing finger
he hesitates at the edge

scrawling barren furrows
in turquoise ink
he loses a knife to the floor

adding salt
he shuffles
cooling his soup in the vowels of a breath
making steam
which hovers above the table
like mist over water
until rivulets of purple jewels
trickle from his eyes
blurring his vision of reality

the clock is ticking but he must wait
for the comfort of soup in his belly
for the whisper of words on the page

If feet could smell

From inside their socks all laced up in plastic
the smell of your body appears olfactively

bad, from the odour of dimples to the hum of the shins
a repulsive reminder of restaurant bins.

Every pore, every sweat gland, harbours a smell.
If your feet could start talking you might hear them yell

“Clean up your body you’re a walking disgrace
that mustardy ear wax should bring tears to your face.

It’s like cheese left in cling film mixed with soap on a rope.
Get back in that shower or you’ll smell like the bloke

wearing boiled sprout cologne in the middle of summer
with the hint of a Lycra clad long distance runner.

Picture spuds going mouldy or carrots gone soft.
Or learn from your feet and keep it all in your socks.”

A view of washing

maybe something that is written about (I don’t know) but something that is mundane – very late – but I bumped into Val yesterday in Tesco’s car park and I have challenged her to post in the next couple of weeks – so here goes …..


God sat down in his conservatory
and noticed the world was full of washing
his view was full of washing

so God invented Silicone Valley
and blessed it with sunshine
blue skies and cartoon trees

the washing dried quickly
man played outside in the fresh air
God had a lovely view

but man got bored with fresh air
it was hot and it made him irritable
so he went inside

inside was boring
there was no fresh air
and nothing to do

so God invented technology
gave man the remote control
and air conditioning

man bought himself a larder fridge
drank ice-cold beer
and everyone was happy

until God sent man a bill
which he could not pay
so man worked overtime

he was tired after work
too tired to do his washing
and then he noticed his wife had left him

on Monday morning
man went to work grumpy rude
the boss texted God asking for help

God missed the message
he was outside in the fresh air
pegging out his washing

summer of ’76

nope – it’s nothing to do with geography but more history …


men in green jumpers are easy to spot
when the summer is warm
when the flagstones are hot
with their own set of wheels they cruised down our street
giving the women an afternoon treat
practical chaps who had brought their own tools
we watched how they worked from our paddling pools
they melted the tarmac wherever they stood
bubbled the paint and started a flood
of housewives in slippers who queued for a chance
to fill up their buckets and have a quick glance
at the men in green jumpers who were easy to spot
when the summer was warm
and the flagstone got hot


in the art gallery

bearded Renaissance man
who shops at Ikea
buying cheap print on large canvas
cooks beans on toast

woman who saves cats
raves about Baroque
wears patent boots
and a gaudy frock

in the art gallery
they enjoy the space
between them

in general cats avoid him
Baroque makes him queasy

a beard is a beard is a beard
whichever century it spouts from

in the cafe
the manager considers serving
beans on toast


27 February – production

Dear poets

I am putting on a production in the English Presbyterian Church, Ruthin on Saturday 27 February 2016.  The Tale of the Tylwyth Teg began as a poem and has morphed into a story with music.  Doors open at 6.00pm for refreshments.  The production lasts an hour.  Tickets are £5 (adults) £3 (children & students).  It is in English with Welsh references.  To reserve a ticket please contact me and there is more information on my website  Hope to see some of you there.  Sarah D x

Season’s greetings

just to let you know – I put together some of the photographs of us at Erddig – Robbie added a message to Rachel and we sent it through by way of a thank you – Rachel wishes everyone the best for the festivities

hope everyone is having fun and your stockings are lumpy – sorry I missed the last session in December – sounded like Dave Mack set the tone – some sort of reference to bears ?????  I had prepared some stuff from Michael Rosen’s new book – not to worry – the Cucumber poem will not go off as it was already off after 6 months in the lost property office …


I dress in water
head to toe
from stiletto bubble heels
to a tiara of diamond droplets
which melt drop by drop

I leave salty kisses
which blister paint
crack concrete
rust metal

I wrap the pull and push
of the universe
in folds of a velvet
fine enough to make a ray of sunshine giggle
strong enough to hold a whale in childbirth