#WelshWriters
There are nights that are so still that I can hear the small owl call… far off and a fox barking miles away. It is then that I lie in the lean hours awake listening
Dear parents, I forgive you my life, Begotten in a drab town, The intention was good; Passing the street now,
It is a matter of a black cat On a bare cliff top in March Whose eyes anticipate The gorse petals; The formal equation of
So beautiful—God himself quailed at her approach: the long body cur… like the horizon. Why had he made her so? How would it be, she said, leaning towards him, if instead of
We met under a shower of bird-notes. Fifty years passed, love’s moment
Davies thought life was long; there was a sameness in the song. Pugh thought it all too brief, the fruit ripe before the leaf turned. How is it with you
We live in our own world, A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees, The adult subterfuge.
I am, as you know, Walter Llywarc… Born in Wales of approved parents… Well goitred, round in the bum, Sure prey of the slow virus Bred in quarries of grey rain.
For the first twenty years you are… Bodily that is: as a poet, of cour… You are not born yet. It’s the ne… You cut your teeth on to emerge sm… For your brash courtship of the mu…
It is calm. It is as though we lived in a garden that had not yet arrived at the knowledge of
I want you to know how it was, whether the Cross grinds into dust under men’s wheels or shines brigh… as a monument to a new era. There was a church and one man
The idiot goes round and around With his brother in a bumping car At the fair. The famous idiot Smile hangs over the car’s edge, Illuminating nothing. This is man…
Beasts rearing from green slime— an illiterate country, unable to r… its own name. Stones moved into po… on the hills’ sides; snakes laid t… in their cold shadow. The earth su…
We were a people taut for war; the… Were no harder, the thin grass Clothed them more warmly than the… Shirts our small bones. We fought, and were always in retr…
You go up the long track That will take a car, but is best… On slow foot, noting the lichen That writes history on the page Of the grey rock. Trees are about…