THE BEAUTY OF LAUGHARNE
My heart is large: expanded
enabling it to feel
the magic that is Dylan’s place:
My eyes are large as lark’s eggs
enabling them to see
the beauty that is all around,
oh blessed creature, me.
My ears are opened wide as gates
enabling them to hear
the call of crow and rooks
and other feathered peers.
My nostrils are dilated
enabling them to smell
some of spring’s rich odours:
narcissi, moist bluebell.
I run my tongue around my lips
enabling it to taste
the mystery of the evening;
morning dew with which to baste.
And joyous in the morning sun,
I delicately trace
the rim of golden daffodil.
All nature I embrace.
Writer Dylan Thomas lived and worked in Laugharne. The shed he wrote in and the Boat House where he lived, on the edge of the estuary, are still there. He is buried in the local cemetery, having died before he was forty years old.
AND NOW… by Joy Lennick An ethereal curtains rises, a feathered chorus orchestrates. Enter Spring – her grand debut – veiled by dew-dropped, cob-webbed lace. Crowned with gold forsythia, yellow trumpets show respect. Earth’s treasure-chest is opening, all creatures genuflect. … read more
SPRING IN SPAIN by Janette Davies Daffodils dancing Lambs a’prancing I’d best start preparing To go Ryanairing Primavera en España – MUY BIEN!! Website: https://janettedavieswriter.wixsite.com/website-1 read more
ARBOREAL BRIDES by Joy Lennick A dozen arboreal snow maidens grace our concrete street: like virginal brides – some blushing – confetti at their feet. Shivering in the late Spring breeze, genuflecting in the icy breeze, they bravely bear Mother … read more
MYSTERIOUS MOON by Joy Lennick With powers almost magical – mistress of the sea – you cast your spell on earthbound lovers and stir the blood of space-bound brothers. The heaven’s night Cyclopic eye (sent by the Gods on us … read more
SANTA CLAUS OR WAS HE? by Joy Lennick A dead-ringer for Santa (“The job’s now been done…”) thought on a bit further… “Think I’ll have me some fun!” He ‘phoned Holly Berry: coquettish and pretty, and honed a short poem: … read more
WINTER’S DAY Colourless and still; no breeze brings fragrant passengers our nostrils to seduce. No air-borne warming pad our heads and hearts to warm. No pastel blue to enhance our two orbs view – January And yet… without chill wind’s … read more
SUNSET Did you see who lit the match which set the sky on fire? Surely one who was intent on poets to inspire. Or has Turner’s mistress painted a scene to inspire wonder – a scene to tug at heart … read more
JANUARY! Yet, without chill wind’s searching fingers poking to the marrow, bleak, grey and rain-streaked days doing their best to harrow… how then could Spring’s delight be felt in all its bright enchantment – preparing, gently nudging us towards Summer’s … read more