roots and branches

Wet afternoon archaeology

sends me dreaming back down

the damp streets of old Cwmbran.

Greyscale sketches of Christmas’s long gone

when we scampered and fought

while age sat weary on the family’s creaking roots.

Deep beneath our skipping feet

in shoes already tight,

ancient trees patiently revealed

a backyard bunker of gleaming coal,

backbreaking sacks marbled

with seams of old finger nails,

tarnished brass, graft and poor bright birds,

fuel for the fire to warm our tiny hands,

then turn to ash to feed the springtime roses.

🌷 (4)

◄ An ash goes wandering - again

Summer '74 ►

Comments

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Chris Armstrong

Thu 8th Feb 2018 10:27

Very atmospheric, David - I really liked the imagery: "while age sat weary on the family’s creaking roots" is particularly good (IMO!)... and "marbled with seams of old finger nails". It really captures the time.

Funnily enough, I have also just written about ash - but a very different context!

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David Taylor-Jones

Fri 2nd Feb 2018 18:11

Thanks Col 😃

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Colin Hill

Fri 2nd Feb 2018 08:18

I love reading your poetry David. That first line had me hooked, trowel in hand, ready to dig into the past. Beautiful. Cheers. Col.

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David Taylor-Jones

Thu 1st Feb 2018 20:45

Thanks Ray 😃

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raypool

Thu 1st Feb 2018 20:40

Romantic stuff which I love, as it oozes with love for the subject and a fondness even where there is limitation and constriction in life. It does have a Welsh feel to it !

Nice work, David.

Ray

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David Taylor-Jones

Thu 1st Feb 2018 17:01

Thanks Keith, I was trying to get to natural cycles and growth. Glad you liked it

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keith jeffries

Thu 1st Feb 2018 16:55

David, thank you for this poem which tells of nature´s sequential movement in providing for us warmth and the beauty of nature herself. Very enjoyable indeed. Keith

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