Tag History

Hiraeth

freyathewriter 27 Comments 
Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
in these stones lieth
rain, never-ending
turning streams into rivers
turning the wheel
the wheel
the wheel
breaking the stones
the bones
the bones
silver and lead
bring out your dead
count them
count them
bring out your dead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
work them to death
for a crust of dark bread
darken the doorsteps
with the smuts on your breath
put them in barracks
work them to death
poison their bodies
with deadening lead
filling their pockets
with bones and dread
Cymru am byth
here, there lieth
the boys and the men
the drowned and the bloated
for the silver and lead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth
for the silver and lead
bring out your dead
turning them over
for the silver and lead
count them
recount them
we walk on the blood
of the boys and the men
of the gone and the dead
bring out your dead
cast in silver and lead

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
in these stones lieth
pray, a moment of silence
let them sing, witness
the troubles they had
Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad

Hiraeth
Hiraeth
Cymru am byth

For dVerse Poetics this week, Dora invites us to consider stone our muse for our poetic wanderings, whether it be gemstones, vast rocks, or somewhere in-between.

Where I live in Wales, I am surrounded by quiet hills and mountains that once roared with industry, stretching back over two thousand years. Whether it was silver, lead, copper or gold, the people of this part of our country mined it – you can only imagine the dangerous conditions in which they worked.

I chose to give a voice to the people of the past who worked in terrible conditions to bring the minerals out of the very rock of this land, weaving in some of the Welsh language at the same time. I have included explanations of the words and phrases that I have used below:

Hiraeth – a deep longing for something, especially your home
Cymru am byth – Wales forever
Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad – Land! Land! I am true to my land! This is from the national anthem of Wales, Land of My Fathers.

If you would like to join us in writing a poem inspired by stones, precious or otherwise, click on the link above and join us!

(Photo of the Cwm Elan lead mine, from 28dayslater.co.uk).


dVerse Poetics – Blessed

freyathewriter 25 Comments

Image – author’s own

We didn’t know we didn’t want it
Until we’d passed it all around
We didn’t know how to stop it
So many six feet under ground

Our homes they began to empty
Some tried to run far away
The brave ones locked the village down 
Others fell to their knees to pray

The vicar held services in the fields
The church was locked up tight
Still the sickness danced in the air
Giving us death deep in the night

We saw not a soul in fourteen months
Our dead in our gardens now rest
The streets have been emptied of laughter and joy
But we are alive, so we must be blessed

*****

Tonight over on dVerse, Merril is our genial host and has asked to write on the theme of giving. I learned a new thing, that the Tuesday after US Thanksgiving is known as Giving Tuesday when people often donate to charitable organisations and non-profits.

Now… true to type, I have at first sight opted for the giving, or passing around, of something unpleasant – disease. My poem is inspired by the village of Eyam in Derbyshire which was infected by the Great Plague in 1665, after a parcel of infected cloth was delivered from London to the village tailor. Under the leadership of the rector, Reverend William Mompesson and his predecessor, Reverend Thomas Stanley, the village took measures to prevent the plague spreading to the surrounding area and also to limit, where possible, spread of disease within the village.

Of the 800 people living in the village, 260 died. If it hadn’t been for the brave actions the community took, the surrounding areas could have been at least as badly affected as Eyam. This is the real gift behind my poem.

The photo above is a window in the village church, telling the story of Eyam and the Great Plague. If you wold like to know more, please check out the village website here.

If you would like to read more poems on the theme of giving, please hop over to dVerse and enjoy! You could also take part if the mood strikes you!

Cabaret – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 38 Comments

liza_minnelli_1973_special

Wikipedia

 

Greasepaint and glitter and show me your thighs

encased in the finest of silks.

Tip me the wink, girl,

sashay on over,

wrap yourself around that lucky ole chair

step on the seat back,

tip it on over

run your fingers through that brassy blond wig.

Bite your cherry red lip,

pout in my direction,

flutter your eyelashes

to hide who you truly are.

(But I can see through you

I can unravel the secret inside).

You hope I don’t know you.

you think you are hidden,

but I have the list

and your name is right here.

‘Jude’ runs right through you

and it’s only a matter of time

until that old gold star

emblazons itself on your skin,

until the flames devour you

and you join the planets spangling above.

‘Til then my sweet hussy

dance for your life.

 

This week on dVerse Poetics, Lillian invites us to write, inspired by the words razzle, dazzle and sparkle. Hmm… this immediately took me to one of my favourite films of all time – Cabaret. I love it for the music, the clever lyrics and (this won’t be a surprise to those who know me) the period of history and where it is set, in Berlin.

The dark brooding presence of the Nazis is so well-entwined with the hedonistic feel of pre-war Berlin’s cabaret scene, it haunts me. So my idea of razzle, dazzle and sparkle is inextricably interwoven with that, I’m afraid. Hey ho – I never claimed to be anything but a dark writer, except on occasion!

Please do head on over to dVerse and enjoy the work of other poets!