Former Headteacher and other numerous positions in education with letters after my name working their way towards a second line on a letterhead! Not much use as the BIG five zero, amongst other things, changed life a bit! I now work as Head of the International Study Centre at Leicester University with students from all corners of the world - a privilege and inspiration. I write quite a lot of professional pieces for journals and I recently discovered, this hitherto unknown to me, world of poetry, kept secret from me by a Grammar School education which to my pre-pubescent thinking at the time, presented only 'old' irrelevant dead poets by way of example! Thanks to a casual passing glance at a book by Stephen Fry I have been enlightened and writing has become a prolific exercise and a personal rebirth and enthusiasm. However, I am still waiting for my first pamphlet or magazine acceptance! A lot of my writing has been an exorcism of recent personal difficulties coupled with my growing yearning to understand my Welsh roots. Much of my work is free verse but occasionally I surprise myself with the more formal, occasional humour but sadly much rubbish. No picture uploaded as it might shatter an illusion! But please look at my photography site which is my other passion. I live in N.W. Leicestershire for part of my life and in West Wales for the other. some kind folk may even register to follow my own poetry site ... please! http://byddafydd.blogspot.com/
Cofiwch (Remember) A solitary figure stands On the edge of living memory, Weeping, for ancient woods and Timeless rocks, laid waste To an artificial landscape Centuries in its gestation, and now Beneath the valley waves, Its demise, Lasting all our lifetimes, To slake a greedy hand Of politics’ supremacy. Where engineered concrete, Replaced chapel hat democracy. Cofiwch Capel Celyn, Cofiwch Dreweryn. Late Night Alone A night of beer in a former speakeasy with still-boozey panelling, and first-floor railings one could brawl through, a prohibition-era escape route, of metal curl stairs, strung with fancy lights looking less weight-bearing and more DNA, At a silent piano I begin to experience the grain of lived time … But my amusement fades as there are no shadows at play (here) with ubiquitous sports, casting a net in the corner. An urgency grows to remove this city from my mind. Leaving a thought that There is nothing lonelier than a radio or TV playing in an empty room August 14th 2008 Today, The Postie could have been the most frightening person in the world; At least the dog thinks so. Today, Your heart will beat faster and Your hands will shake as you open the envelope. Today, You will know whether you did as badly as you feared or As well as you had hoped. Today, You are thinking about what you are going to be doing and Considering your options. Today, You will realise your future on This happy day of confusion. Today, Mum and Dad are very proud, And the dog is wagging his tail. Popular Cool (a story) she was the coolest girl in school. she wore felt hats. she was in a band. she stayed at home alone. she had long hair and black leather boots. she asked me round for coffee, she was at home alone, we are alone on the couch, it was a typical wet, grey, English day. an afternoon not in class. we listened to tapes of Genesis. i am nervous, and laughing too hard at her teasing, i start to ‘suck my thumb’. it's where i got my confidence. she storms out. i wait dramatically, then follow. "why do you mock me?" whimpers the cool girl. "what do you mean?" (i'm suddenly in charge.) "but how did you know?" the cool girl insists, "that i suck my thumb?" "i didn't," i say. we kissed and sucked up. My Dreams Orbit the Stars My dreams orbit the stars, pulsing with the rhythms of a cosmic evolution, Sharpening my awareness of existence. In emergent doodles and phantasm, they spiral towards some sort of wholeness, like dancing strands of DNA. I strengthen my resolve in these recurring impossible dreams. Dreams that seem so different in the dawn light of a new day, where hope and healing are not always in universal abundance. In my horizon’s limiting circle of apprehension, I strive to open my senses to a wider consciousness and to my stressed compassion towards humanity, with the personal conflict of challenge this creates. I must open the floodgates, to the waters of imagination, building my vessel to keep me stable atop the wild currents of the evolving, misrepresented understanding. I must design the destiny of my desire, and dream a thousand dreams. I must allow my despair to die and decay, Consigned to dark, recessed, temporal dungeons of the mind.
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