Aberdynfach, it is nowhere, it is everywhere.

Pr. Abb-air-done-vack.


The ''ch" in Welsh is a wet sound, formed at the back of the throat, almost as if it was a "CK" stuck in the throat having to be coughed away 

Mair's Tale


 Mair's smile in Aberdynfach

Holds a curve borne of coal dusted beaches,

Bleating lambs shocked against hoar frosts

And songs Dai scattered amongst tors

While his firstborn suckled newly at the breast

And bacon spat upon the skillet 


The Elders, praise dutifully this Sunday

Claiming corners after sermons,raising brows

They Reminisce on the glory days of other Reverands

Stashing brimstone in handbags for the week


Here, Winter shares clear skies with Red Kites

Its' whistle so lonely, Mair can feel  

She pauses at the panelled door of The Collier's

Leaning into the opening with relief

Hooks a cranny, dimly lit,

Where young Emyr welcomes fussing

and patting by the fire


 Slowly, the sun returns westward

Slinging oranges and pinks,begging awe

The flame's dance now almost gone wholly

As Dai apologeticly enters,

approaches Mair       

Poetry by LFD3
Read 230 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2019-01-20 at 08:06

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I too enjoyed this, especially the last two stanzas. It sounds like an old saga without shamelessly imitating one.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
What a joy to read! Brings images in dark strokes of brilliant colours. To echo Jim, itís fine indeed!

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
This is so fine and rich and imbued with that magical, mystical, mythological Welsh body and soul, and sense of place and timelessness, and the Mair and the Dai, and his shy intent . . .

So very fine.