Citizens

The Bakers, the Millers, the watchmakers.

The clerics, the priests and the reeves.

The plougher of fields and the sower of seeds.

The bankers, the scoundrels, the thieves.

The farmers, the tailors, the shopkeepers.

The woman who sits home and weaves.

The godless, the hypocrites and sinners.

The bishop who prays and believes.

The innkeepers, drunks and ...

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I grew up in Wales

Around the Swansea docks

I walked beneath huge cargo ships

Held up with props and blocks

I was made in Wales

Around the southern ports

I watched the big ships dock

My family guessed my thoughts

I was mined in Wales

Near valleys black with slag

And closing pits and picket lines

With many a mine lodge flag

I was forged in Wales

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I am but the mottled bark
of a tree once firmly rooted,
peeled from its stately trunk

and within my hollow carapace
echoes an inert drumbeat
that keeps the cadence for
a march of ornate trappings

soon and sooner still, one day
this crepuscular orphelin song
resonant in its languid longing
shall surge with the rising tide

the sound of its condescencion
as i...

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In the footsteps of our fathers

we took the restoration trail

through wooded hill and wetland

from Aspull through to Haigh

sucked up the coldness

of a late winter sun

reflected on

the stillness of it all

each sunken dead tree scrum

on mirrored flash

no whispering grass

all secrets to the grave

and in the distance stark reminder

...

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Close the coalhouse door, lad

There's bones inside

(Alex Glasgow)

Fruits of the Narrow Seam

frozen tears

on a mossy stone

beneath a sundial

which has swept out

one hundred and thirty seven

years' worth of days

since they were

carved

at Christmastide

When time stopped

and a mother wept

while in ignorance and vel...

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