Beautiful paintings
poetry
napowrimo
End of NaPoWriMo for this year
But I will be carrying on here as usual.
And the next inspiring event comes up later on – with the free on-line Poetry Course with the Creative Writing Dept at Iowa State University – when that date is announced I will post it (it lasts for 5 weeks)
Beautiful Question
yes, beautiful
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”
The Fairy Funeral
Great blog! Love it!
The green hill on the water watching broods
rolling hidden songs on a tongue of stone.
With the piercing stars and ascending moon
keeps conversations heaped in earth and bones
amidst the tilting shadows of the tombs.
Midnight’s toll rings the brightness of midday
rearing spectral shapes with a sombre tone.
Draped in glamorous grace a fairy race
with loyalty tend the buried magic of the grave.
A doctor and apprentice walking home
are stricken by the chime of passing bells.
Twenty six they count the ominous sum.
“He’s thy age, Robin,” Adam quietly tells.
They halt beholden by the faery spell.
In raiment dark, bright cap quixotic red
a dainty leader chanting dole impels
in pairs a cavalcade of little men
echoing a mournful fairy requiem.
On slender shoulders six bear a coffin,
lid drawn back to reveal a minute corpse.
Adam gasps “it’s the picture of thee, Robin.”
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Writing Prompts
If you are looking for inspiration I have just updated my Writing Prompts page
National Poetry Month starts tomorrow!
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
Or Will the Dreamer Awake
Great poem by Medora – click link
https://slearthweek.wordpress.com/about/birth-a-poem-about-endangered-species/
The Dreaming Path 