#WelshWriters
Iago Prytherch his name, though,… Just an ordinary man of the bald… Who pens a few sheep in a gap of c… Docking mangels, chipping the gree… From the yellow bones with a half-…
Being unwise enough to have marrie… I never knew when she was not acti… ‘I love you’ she would say; I hea… Sigh. ‘I hate you’; I could never… They were still there. She was lo…
Dear parents, I forgive you my life, Begotten in a drab town, The intention was good; Passing the street now,
The salmon lying in the depths of… Secretly as a thought in a dark mi… Is not so old as the owl of Cwm C… Who tells her sorrow nightly on th… The ousel singing in the woods of…
Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way bet… The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and fails at th… Of the short hill, eaten away
I emerge from the mind’s cave into the worse darkness outside, where things pass and the Lord is in none of them. I have heard the still, small voic…
One night of tempest I arose and… Along the Menai shore on dreaming… The wind was strong, and savage sw… And the waves blustered on Caerna… But on the morrow, when I passed…
The poem in the rock and The poem in the mind Are not one. It was in dying I tried to make them so.
Evans? Yes, many a time I came down his bare flight Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen With its wood fire, where crickets… Accompaniment to the black kettle’…
And God held in his hand A small globe. Look he said. The son looked. Far off, As through water, he saw A scorched land of fierce
Too far for you to see The fluke and the foot-rot and the… Gnawing the skin from the small bo… The sheep are grazing at Bwlch-y-… Arranged romantically in the usual…
Shelley dreamed it. Now the dream… The props crumble; the familiar wa… Are stale with tears trodden under… The heart’s flower withers at the… Bury it then, in history’s sterile…
Men who have hardly uncurled from their posture in the womb. Naked. Heads bowed, not in prayer, but in contemplation of the earth they came from,
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…
There was Dai Puw. He was no goo… They put him in the fields to dock… And took the knife from him, when… At late evening with a grin Like the slash of a knife on his f…