Lost Voices

the Valley Welsh

and the Cockney Welsh

rarely mingle, except for holidays,

when they descend on our house

and turn me out from my bed

‘never mind, cheer up, ducks, ‘

says me Nan, sprinkling violets onto cotton,

tossing fresh laundered sheets in the air

 

the men have arguments around the table,

how they love to raise their voices,

though they all agree

if truth be told

 

”edoocation for edoocations sake”

they lecture me

‘come by here’

and ‘mind now’

storm in a teacup

‘look you boyo’

‘see now,’ telling tales of Tom-the-Milk

and Willie-One-Hair

 

me Da’s Mam puts her pinny on

but settles in an armchair

pouring luke warm tea,

‘no sugar mind,’ she says

her face is always serious

 

and now, here come the Cornish

like a blast of sea air

from a far horizon

they travel ‘up country’

unwillingly,

late as usual,

laid back

smiling,

all the way from God’s Own Country

”hello me ‘ansome, orlroight?

some weather we’m havin’,

i’d love a nice cuppa tae”

 

and then the laughter starts

and the voices gather

around the piano

to sing in harmony,

the Welsh with a lean to the minor key,

 while my father tickles the ivories,

‘there’s lovely’,

until the early hours

when me Pop says to me,

disappointingly,

with an eye on the clock,

”Time for bed me ol’ cock”

 

National Poetry Month starts tomorrow!

http://www.napowrimo.net

The first post of NaPoWriMo, with prompt, featured participant, and our first featured poet in translation will go live at 12:01 a.m. eastern standard time April 1; subsequent daily posts will also go live at 12:01 EST each day.

Participating poets can be seen here http://www.napowrimo.net/participants-sites/

My own is there and also here https://napowrimo2016atdreamingpath.wordpress.com

Dreaming Bob Dylan

I fell asleep and dreamed a dream.
I was with my old lover, we lay in bed.
The things in our room were re-arranged.
I said, ‘The bed side table should be here,
there is nowhere now i can rest my book
and the shelf is gone, and your memory jar.’

To get to this place we had travelled far.
I went outside and i saw where we were.
We were in a hotel by the Taj Mahal,
the shining white palace of love,
and a river flowed right past our door.
‘I have been for a walk’ i said to you
you answered me with a warning smile
‘You cant be too careful with children here,
you must hold their hands wherever you go.”
I said ‘yes, it’s true, but our children are grown,
they have their own lives, and their own homes,
they are taller than me, the nest is flown”

You told me you’d been out the night before
and met a man who got you drunk.
You showed me a head that was covered in gold
it was huge and heavy but the face was kind.
You tipped it up and the liquor flowed
out of its neck and onto the ground.
There were shallow waters all around.

I heard a guitar and I turned about.
I saw Bob Dylan was standing there.
His face in the free-wheelin’ time of life,
a time when he shone like a new born star.
I listened to his songs as the river flowed by.
I sat by the river and talked with him.
He didn’t say much. He looked resigned.

My lover said ‘There’s a wish fulfilled,
You can tick that one off the bucket list.’
I said ‘Wishes are useless in times like this.
I think Bob Dylan’s time has come.
There’s no place left for us to run.’
It makes me feel lost, he’s a friend,
a friend I maybe never had
but i played music so long with him
blending his guitar with my violin
and now it’s the end of Bob Dylan’s dream,
a beautiful dream. It’s makes me sad.’

An Angel in New Jersey

I flew the far Atlantic
to a place unknown
I flew to see a stranger,
a mystery. to me.
The streets were full of cars,
humming as they passed.

I climbed an empty stair.
The steps were cold and bare.
The door was open wide,
I entered there

A crumpled body,
in the corner of a room.
I knew that he would die
If I had not been there.
I spoke to him
he did not reply.

I cradled him
I shook him
dialled 911
the paramedics didnt come
i left the building at a run

i became so lost out there
the city was so huge
i was in despair

in a square
above the town
an angel came to me
and took me to the river
i saw a spanning bridge
the angel told me wait
don’t cross, the time’s not now

i waited in a rocking boat
by the river shore
and there the man came to me
a woman by his side
i knew she was his bride
dead long years before
he spoke to me
he shook my hand

‘we are going now” he said
i knew that he was dead
they danced off down the street
their happiness complete

i asked the angel ”can i dance?”
”when the time is right” she said
”that dance is for the dead”

With Passion

frustration fills the air
our breath beats out our pace
no embrace is tight enough
to seal the bonds of love
glancing at your face
through tangled hair,
damp with sweat, urgent,
i look into your eyes
i hold you to my chest
i hear your moans express
a need for ever more
a need to leave this place
to fly
the planet is too small
the earth not great enough
to hold this burning love
the fervour is too strong
i hear the cosmos sigh
towards the urge of life
and children to be born
my heart is full of stars
i shower you with them all
my soul begins to fall
we call our angels in
to circle us above
suspended from their wings