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NOT REALLY A STRANGER

NOT REALLY A STRANGER

 

I don't know what the right term is

For this kind of tide

It is high but not stormy

Grey flecked with white

Slightly misty, bad tempered

I get the feeling it would like

To burst through the walls

And drown me quietly

 

I stare through the windows

Of a seafront bistro

Designed to show the bay

At its best to visitors

But the waves ...

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poetryWALESAberystwyth

Aberystwyth Scenes, 1970

It was always The Cabin

before her lectures

                coffee

                and Flic demolishing

                                The Times crossword,

                                sharing the clues but

                                writing the answers

                                as she read, smoked,

                                pushed her blond hair

   ...

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AberystwythCeredigionuniversitystudentsstudystudent life1970sCwrt MawrSkinners ArmsTalbotPrice AlbertcoffeeThe Cabin

BETWEEN TWO STONES

 

 BETWEEN TWO STONES

 

 Horses raced here

 Until the railway

 Cut the field in half

 Between two stones

 And a third

 No longer standing.

 

 The first excavation

 Proved this to be true

 From the clay pipes

 And wine bottles

 Now cleaned

 And catalogued.

 

 More recent surveys

 Using methods

 Geophysical

 Indicated the presence

 Of se...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchipoetryWelsh Poetry

TOMORROW

 

TOMORROW

 

 Tomorrow is Remembrance Day

 The sea rises and falls

 A great abdomen

 Gasping for breath.

 

 We enjoy 'winter sun'

 Freakish for November

 But we don't complain

 They didn't either.

 

 Outside on the promenade

 Soldiers paraded

 Before leaving for France

 We have the old photos.

 

 Here too a salute was taken

 Near where ice c...

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AberystwythDavid SubacchiWelsh Poetry.

NOT REALLY A STRANGER

 NOT REALLY A STRANGER

I don't know what the right term is
For this kind of tide
It is high but not stormy
Grey flecked with white
Slightly misty, bad tempered
I get the feeling it would like
To burst through the walls
And drown me quietly.

I stare through the windows
Of a seafront bistro
Designed to show the bay
At its best to visitors
But the waves are not playing
It is only ju...

Read and leave comments (5)

AberystwythDavid SubacchiWelsh Poetry

PLASCRUG

PLASCRUG

 

There was a great ditch

And an avenue of trees

Leading directly

From the busy town

To the cemetery’s silence

Ornate gates sick with rust

Relics of grander times

When they marked the way

To ancient Plascrug

Back and forth we jumped

Across the weed choked water

 

There was a Scout Hut

Near a playground

A row of park benches

Where we sat i...

Read and leave comments (6)

David SubacchiAberystwythpoetryWelsh PoetsLiverpool Poets

THE OLD COMMODORE

THE OLD COMMODORE

This faded slab stands to commemorate

David Lewis of ‘The Conqueror’ late

A Montgomery man ‘The Old Commodore’

Who served under Nelson in times of war

Then as a harbourmaster in peacetime

A grand old seadog not far past his prime

Here in Aberystwyth he lived and died

His watchful eye always on the tide

In this peaceful town on Cardigan Bay

He dropped...

Read and leave comments (1)

AberystwythDavid SubacchiLiverpool PoetryLiverpool PoetsWelsh Poets

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