wood hut draft

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FranktheFrank
Posts: 1500
Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Location: Between the mountains and the sea

wood hut draft

#1 Post by FranktheFrank » 25 Jun 2018, 14:47

. . . on a cliff at glan-y-mor set over a lemon
washed boathouse doused by the mists and spray
from the Afon Taf that meanders into Carmarthen Bay.

Wrote poetry over the salt marsh across
from Black Scar and Craig Ddu. A narrow path
too steep to visit the ty bach, he used the bushes.

A half circle of the light at dusk the last throw
of the sun before announcing tea, an evening
walk to Brown's, two pints or maybe four.

Little boats bob, wind-waving reeds, lovers entwine,
Polly Garter, Gossamer Beynon, from Bugger All
Llareggub. He could watch Captain Cat pull in his

lobster pots, listen to the terrors of his dreams.
listen to the symphony of the sedge warbler's
call, an infinite variety of series, ratchet trills

and warbled peeps. No one warbler's-call the same,
recombined and complex beyond any composers'
grasp. The sun blessed his indolent nature, a breeze

soothed the heat away, the caress of a bottle of bitter
beer brought peace, to wash away the stress, her antics,
the sudden flurry of fists, her insatiable demands,

her furies, no Blodeuwedd, no dainty flower she.
He failed to serve, a labourer would suffice,
locals sawher dance and show her twmpath.

No angel he, but Vernon saw in him a bard, an Arthur,
a warrior of words. Sad that Sarah was ambivalent
about his pal and Graves heard in his poetry: hywl.

Vernon, a fisherman catching mermaids, he said.
R. S. Thomas said shillings pouring on the counter
were like the splashing of waves at Ginst Point.

He spoke no Welsh, yet there it is: Do not go gentle into
that good night - Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And we poor mortals grieve as he grieved against the dying

of our light. Fame plied him with drink , women he could not
satisfy, failed by his mole-rat body, assailed by asthma,
and victim to morphine and a criminally careless physician.

Remember the fag that hung from his pout, and poems that
thrilled like the sedge-warbler's call, we read them aloud,
dream of his generous women, the genius poet of Laugharne.

*****

Bernie01
Posts: 777
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Tribute in a Wooden Shed

#2 Post by Bernie01 » 25 Jun 2018, 21:42

Frank---

excellent.

A warmer and more balanced portrait.


now this shed, you don't make it come alive by telling us what poems may have been crafted there.

would avoid the word wanton at the end.


makes the poem sound parochial.



bernie

FranktheFrank
Posts: 1500
Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Location: Between the mountains and the sea

Re: Tribute in a Wooden Shed

#3 Post by FranktheFrank » 25 Jun 2018, 22:24

Okay
shall try more
drop wanton
Thanks

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