Sitting to the east
Sloping down to the edge
Of that other world
In the summer sun
In the winter chill
The sentinel watched over
The little family in the cottage in the hollow
Lately it had felt her sorrow
It knew when she left Pant y Lleiniau
And walked slowly along the cart track
To reach the little bridge under the trees
Where she crossed Nant yr Efail ...
Wednesday 10th July 2019 5:20 pm
After a pause due to computer woes, I return to the airwaves with this offering. Its predominant theme appears to be the fear of change which, for me at least, is pervasive.
On The Border
The sky's dissolved in enveloping greys,
close as blankets, cold like hotel sheets;
looking over your shoulder as dawn raises day -
you test the gloaming's disdain for lamp-lit streets.
Thursday 22nd February 2018 3:01 am
The Eye of Morning
I am the arrow of dawn, and
rise as the archer kneels,
strains his bow, sets the sky ablaze,
dissolves at the borderland
between light and shade, Heaven
and Hell; his firebrands mere crass
cascades of incendiary petals,
guttering in chiaroscuro swells.
Behold the evanescent rose-glow
of morning's opening eye.
Friday 20th October 2017 1:41 pm