They've been to the pictures in Pontypridd

Yul Brynner, they're not sure which film

they can't concentrate what with the

scent and lust in suspension.


Commercial traveller takes time out

over in the valleys.              Her home

quite forlorn on the steep industrial street.

All this is in his mind

as they ascend the stair

the revelatory behind

close enough for violation.


The simple lonely room comes to life

there is flesh, a clashing of teeth

yield and surge

shoes kicked away

and the rain is sparkling in Pontypridd.


His briefcase secure with its way of life

on the cutwork runner

he breathes the long gusts of

wallpapered and mahogany sin

as she flushes and sighs,

valley talk.

Already he is sullied


the old urges sated

the dull ache of guilt overriding.

She smiles

knowing nothing of this.


Factories await, samples to be shown

jokes shared, hands shaken

and, like the sealing of fate

he pulls the door to

while she makes the bed.

first posted in August 2015




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Thu 12th Jan 2017 16:54

Cheers Col, thanks for the trouble . My Lynn was intrigued , not aware of the Burrell Arms but the Crown and Anchor yes; her cousin will be interested too to see the gallery.


<Deleted User> (13762)

Wed 11th Jan 2017 22:44

that'll be the Crown & Anchor Ray. Hope this link works for you and yes it is still there or was the last time I visited:

here is the Burrell Arms / Hotel in its horse drawn days:

Cheers, Col

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Wed 11th Jan 2017 20:23

Thanks Paul for stopping by - this was a re - post from last August with Colin and I having a tit for tat theme contest!


Colin, I know I commented on your Valleys poem , but this is to say I spoke to Lynn about the pub. She thinks it had a sort of ship's prow type man's head on the front and was in the High Street. No more info than that. I wonder if it is still there?

Cheers Ray

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Paul Waring

Wed 11th Jan 2017 08:44

Ray, another great story, love the style, the piece reeks of character! Paul

<Deleted User> (13762)

Wed 11th Jan 2017 08:31


Nice one Ray. I think I will have to respond with a back handed volley of my own Valleys poem re-blog. This feels like a game of poetry tennis! 15 all?

btw, I used to occasionally frequent a pub back in my home town of Shoreham-by-Sea just below the railway station called the Burrell Arms. Back in it's heyday it was a hotel and stopping off point for the horse drawn tram which went all the way to Brighton. By the time it got to my era the hotel had slipped a long way from it's former glory and was definitely more of a spit and sawdust pub. The landlord would always say Aythankgyow in a long drawn out manner which I still imitate to this day much to my own amusement and no-one else's!


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