The flocks been shorn
The ewes searching, calling
For lambs gone away
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Many of you who have been following this blog for some time know that I’ve always intended to form a community around ideas that poetry as an art form has to offer much more than it is usuall…
What’s my name?
What’s my name
He was four and didn’t know his name
He thought he knew what he was called
But when the teacher called “Ceri”
He didn’t say a thing.
She asked again
And looked at him.
He looked confused
And standing up
Said my names “boy”.
There’s a poverty of the heart.
The examination of time (excerpt).
We are the explorers
Of time.
In which
Our watchfulness
Reveals
A revelation
An awareness
Of life’s turning wheel.
We the silent sentinels
Examine time
Embracing
The glue that alloys
That anneals and binds
The eternal tick,
Hum and thrum
Of the Atomic.
Remembrance
An orchid alone in the orchard
A cuckoo calls in the oakwood
I long for the nightingales return
The Salon
Poetry, music and song and much more The Salon, ClwbyBont, Pontypridd.
Endings.
Photo post by @lemanshots.
Source: Endings.
Llwynypia
Rob Cullen reads his story, ‘Ernie Zobole and the Square’, in response to Zobole’s painting ‘Llwynypia’ (c1953). You can read Rob’s story on the website – https://artisttrails.wordpress.com/2016/04/27/ernie-zobole-and-the-square/
Lest we forget
Lest we forget
Celfypridd 