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//

Introduction to 'Maximus And His Friend':

Of the workers on the pipeline

...

‘Hey Maximus, what have you got for lunch?

His legionnaire friend asks while sitting on a clump

of dead fern, contemplating this march into the unknown

and maybe that is why they came; curiosity;

for no one thought about the possibility of dying,

even while Maximus is sitting here with his friend

on this track that’s seven wide; with amour donned

on his way along this roman road. And to where?

A question that Maximus would often ask to himself

with thousands of others trudging a comradary

Are you still there, he would think to hear

like a sheep let onto a new graze, a new common

nibbling and Baa ing as a recognition to the others;

to this comfort of being not alone;

and of its importance to Man!

Yes! Man does not wish to be alone,

or to find himself as so, for very long.

 

And as to this mixture of all different cultures dragged in

for their tour of duty with the prospect of a better option to poverty; the chance of honour, promotion or of a happy

retirement somewhere possibly in Cirencester or Bath;

back to home even, but you know what its like when you’ve left;

returning can be hard.

Because as these soldiers march, as do their thoughts move on.

Passing into another sphere, into a consciousness perhaps

of the want to stay to graze this new ground

as to even where they sit.

 

The Romans did leave their mark;

But so too did Maximus and his friend

As it cant have been all bad, No!

A remark as even today the fighting does live on.

Through all types of goings on; these were people,

these were human beings with emotions and feelings,

and thoughts just like our own.

 

The Careers are never any different, it is just the scale of things

and as to how it happens; to live a life  as it is

like it is for you and me now; Just as Maximus and his friend;

and while in this  pub at Defynnog; the Lion Inn

I see these two men walk to a new step of invasion.

Yes! The pipeline!

With just as many soldiers and with all machines to burn

Taking land and settling for a while, all different cultures merging, that would otherwise not have been.

Yes! And I reckon it was Maximus at the bar conversing

with his dearest friend,

not rested upon that old fern, but seated upon a stool;

yet the stories told are still the same, and as often with a smile.

Just as these pipes are being laid to rest and covered with all this soil. Buried to history, yet all these thoughts prevail.

Maximus, as I called this man in the pub, ‘cause he has got this Roman nose, as he says to me of mine, that it is just as big,

He says Gloucester, but who really knows where we come from;

I guess it is just a little comfort that we all belong, somewhere;

And even to this pipeline, how many of us will change?

To what is thought in progress along this lineage to which we come: as I see Maximus and his friend rise up from that old fern:

to form again into that line of seven, steady; correct to a stance

to march: while this thought, carries on silently speaking.