Poems...

//A Flock of Birds// Reading Between the Lines// The Gift// A Mother’s Love// Level in My Breeze// My Burning Desires// We’re Going To See Graham Today// Clocks// The Meadow// Evening Stream// Beacons// Unconditional Love// Honey and Vanilla Ballet// Beads// The Photograph// Sitting on the Banks of the Wye// Spritual Princess// Drops of Heaven// Pen Y Fan// Chill// The Wardrobe// Y Mynydd Du// Life Time// To A Pilot Who Guides Me On My Path// First Journey// Floating Feather// Early Morning Caesarian// Mrs Davies// The special effects of flakes// The Welsh Lad of the Mountain// Hush Now. Just Listen.// A Welsh Mountain Kind// Blowing Down The Cwm// Destiny// Drive Your Own Screensaver// Maximus And His Friend// The Dance Of The Queens// 10th of March 2007//

...

This cold misty Easterly,

And to get anywhere today

I have to slice my way

through the all exhaustive  blue.

At five thirty this morning;

a Welsh Mountain that couldn’t lamb;

Dilwyn John of Dan y Greig,

he’s that kind as well;

Unshaven and as wiry

Just as the wool I’m trimming off,

by hand,

cause its really tough:

and with his glasses hanging

he turned and said to me

‘I haven’t slept for three days now

and that bloody fox is taking

quite a few off grass’.

‘I’ve been up to see it’ he said

‘but I cant get close enough’

I guess I should be used to it

as it happens every year’.

‘The woodland I am surrounded by

is not feeding all the cubs’.

And as this lamb presented out the side;

Well! It was as big as the fox itself.

And Mr John he said to me

‘I’m using my home bred tup’

I replied ‘they’re big those mountain rams,

as I saw them at the Vaynor show

a couple of years ago’.

‘Is that your local too’

And ‘Yes! This man replied’

As I could almost guess

that from the very size,

this tup that Mr John is using,

is most likely,

what got him to first prize.