Today’s choice

Previous poems

Elizabeth Wilson Davies

 

 

 

Watermarked
There are places in Wales I don’t go: reservoirs that are the subconscious of a people – R S Thomas

Cofiwch Dryweryn, that two-word protest,
white on blood-red background, landscaped in green,

mural on a ruined Llanrhystud cottage,
sixty miles from Llyn Celyn, where raptors spiral round

and around, looking for the easy kill. Dissent drowned out.
Brooding dark water above the drowned

post office, farms and houses, the chapel submerged, the
concreted over cemetery, only eight bodies exhumed,

no gravestones left standing. The school demolished,
children’s paintings left hanging on the walls,

all swallowed by the lake. Silence is here, but no peace.
Cofiwch Lanwddyn hefyd, drowned by the dammed

Vyrnwy valley, Cofiwch Nantgwllt hefyd, the chapel where converts
were baptised in the river, all dammed and drowned now

for these are blackened waters, except for droughts
exposing silted wrecks of entombed buildings.

Cofiwch Dryweryn, that two-word poem,
so often vandalised, defaced by a swastika,

a white power sign, Elvis, LOL, always restored,
its indelible declaration resurrected elsewhere

flooded over milk stands, bridges, bus shelters, beach huts.

 

Dyfrnodedig
Mae lleoedd yng Nghymru nad wyf yn mynd iddynt: cronfeydd dŵr a ddaw’n isymwybod pobl
– R S Thomas

Cofiwch Dryweryn, y brotest mewn dau air,
yn wyn ar gefndir gwaetgoch, wedi’i thirweddu’n wyrdd,

yn furol ar adfeilion bwthyn yn Llanrhystud,
trigain milltir o Lyn Celyn, lle mae adar sglyfaethus yn troi

ac yn troi, yn ceisio prydau hwylus. Gwrthwynebiad wedi’i
foddi, a dŵr tywyll yn deor uwchben yr hyn a foddwyd;

y swyddfa bost, y ffermydd, y tai a’r capel dan ddŵr, y
fynwent dan goncrid, a dim ond wyth corff a ddatgladdwyd,

heb yr un garreg fedd yn dal i sefyll. Dymchwelwyd yr ysgol,
gadawyd paentiadau’r plant i hongian ar y parwydydd,

y cyfan yn llwnc y llyn. Ceir tawelwch yma ond dim heddwch.
Cofiwch Lanwddyn hefyd, a foddwyd gan argae

Cwm Efyrnwy, Cofiwch Nantgwllt hefyd, y capel lle bedyddiwyd troedigion
yn yr afon, y cyfan wedi’i argaeu a’i foddi bellach.

Dyfroedd duon yw’r rhain, ac eithrio mewn sychderau sy’n
datguddio sgerbydau lleidiog yr adeiladau cladd.

Cofiwch Dryweryn, y gerdd mewn dau air,
a ddifrodir mor aml, gan symbolau’r swastika a grym gwyn,

Elvis, LOL, ond sy bob tro yn cael ei adfer, â’i ddatganiad
annileadwy yn cael ei atgyfodi’n rhywle arall,

ar stondinau llaeth, pontydd, safleoedd bysiau, cabanau traeth.
Dyfrnodedig.

 

Elizabeth Wilson Davies (@LizWilsonDavies) is a poet from Pembrokeshire in west Wales, United Kingdom. She has an MA in Creative Writing and a PhD in Post-colonial Literatures and her poetry has been widely published in journals and has won or been highly commended for competitions including Poetry Wales and the Bridport Prize.

Nathan Evans

If they ask where I am, tell them: I am
wintering. I have secreted small acorns
of sadness in crevices of gnarled limbs
and shall be savouring their bitternesses
on the back of my tongue until the days
lengthen.

Jim Ferguson

we can travel anywhere
she winks, but let’s rest here
in amongst these words
a moment can take a while

Gabrielle Meadows

I am tearing the peel from an orange gently and somewhere
Far away a tree falls in a forest and we
don’t hear it but the ground does and the birds do

Hongwei Bao

Every five minutes it does its job,
hoovers every inch of her memory,
declutters all pains and sorrows.

Gary Day

And once the father frowned
As the boy struggled to fasten
The drawbridge on his fort.
‘He’ll never be any good
With his hands’ he declared,
As if the boy wasn’t there.

Royal Rhodes

Perhaps the friends of Lazarus, who died
and slipped his shroud, on seeing him might swoon
or rush to hear the tales of that beyond
they hoped and feared to face.