POETRY SAMPLES

 

From Sun On The Hill

 

SUN ON THE HILL

“Daw haul ar fryn”

they say in Wales,

“Sun will come on a hill”.

So put on your wellies,

get out in the rain,

and let life’s weather

send what it will.

 

Though the landscape

is nought but storm-tossed sky

with never a sign of a hill,

as the storm exults,

and the clouds unfold.

The hills will reveal

themselves, lurking still

and somewhere there

on a distant hill

a velvet patch of gold.

 Daw haul ar fryn is pronounced dow hile ar vrin

A ROBIN ON A LEARNING CURVE

 

Today, in the snow

that has cut me off from

postman and the world,

a robin came to feed

and tried to emulate the tits,

who hang from one leg

beside their nut-rich lunch

or suspend themselves inverted

on the fat-filled shell

that dangles from a branch.

 

In pity for his plight

I fixed a tray into the tree

with porridge oats and seeds

that he might dine

in style and safety.

 

Amid the swirling snow,

a swirling cloud of birds

descended on the tray,

finches, tits and sparrows

delighted with the feast.

News spreads fast

in a bird’s eye view

when food is of the essence.

 

And the robin?

With frantic fluttering of wings

and stabbing bill

he’s still practising

precarious acrobatics --

a new apprentice

to an awkward skill.

 

 

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