a mother and son selfie

a mother and son selfie

suddenly

there is beauty beyond 

being beautiful 

together is teetering

upon time’s tearing

of their tethering apart

which is the beautiful part

of today forging tomorrow’s

broken heart  

martyn is in the morgue

 martyn is in the morgue

it’s a long time from high tide to low tide 

a long time to lay in that morgue 

your blue fingers no gloves to hide

or your cadaverine pallor prorogue

how can you lie there under death’s sentry 

when there is gossip enough on the shore

the place where you left your clothes is now empty

and the sand carries your footprints no more

the sea is cold i tell you absentmindedly 

and the waves are higher than before

with your cravat twisted untidily for

the wind is rattling death’s door 

take one look from your last lonely pew

before the light extinguishes the view

there’s a storm brewing i tell you

and there’s a tear in my eye ~ oh duw

how can we cope with this pain

when your smile is nowhere to be found

except wait until time warms the sea again

and smiles once more abound

it’s a cold sea today

       we all agree

it’s bloody freezing

and we are absolutely numb

a gipsy calls

 1955 ~ a gipsy calls

like autumn

she came to the door

cross-my-palm-with-silver

(my mother reiterated to me)

as she brought in the fist

of wooden pegs

and her quizzical look

(reiterating her fortune told)

i glimpsed the gold earring rings

the dark curled locks spilling

either side of a bronzed face

the gold red bandana scarf

and a strange accent retreating

with the jangle of her bracelets

into next time

i never did find the sparkle

that was missing from her eyes

or understand the dread that followed her

out of the village

the strip fields

 the strip fields

tattered ribbons of history 

bow tied by the sun

crops of memories

surreptitious fists of peas 

down all the ways of a child’s flowering

how the path wiggles it’s known way

called back home by the church tower

crops of the spirit 

crops of the land

the sustenance of a shared walk

taken home to your armchair 

to snooze down all the days

of a rhossili sundowner

fall bay

 fall bay

let’s turn at the worm and head east

where the curve of the dry stone walls 

pass the fields of sheep and the 

wild horses’ quizzical standing

drop the braken-way down 

to where the boats wait 

grassed above the sloping ledges

where the rocks hold time’s rusted cleats 

waiting for the boat to come in with the mackerel 

for the fishermen to spin their yarns upon

where the bay ends on the sand-slapped beach

we hold our stand appointing the strong waves

all along the creased cliffs that stride east

then 

up  up the hard way until our gasps reach the

iron runged ladder 

up off the coast path and into the fields

where our view changes its clothes again

worm's head (pen pyrod)

 worm's head (pen pyrod)

tip toe 

onto the croc’s head

eyes half-closed half-asleep

malevolent breath 

becalmed westward

if he goes down we drown

so trespass with care 

across the causeway finger-nailed 

barnacled and scuffed 

where the sea parts

the waves lap backward

clouds scudder

worries are cut off

loads of time as

the brass bell sets the tenor

keep ringing and wait here to be rescued

devil's bridge!

a flash of the sea’s antlers

where trepidation doesn’t look

silence hangs

under a warm kestrel

seals hauled up asleep

peep at our demise

for no further 

on the worm's silhouette

out on rhossili bay

fare you well then pen pyrod bach

when we look back 

when the sea has reclaimed the causeway 

we’ll remember how we stood 

and whispered we love it here

out on the dragon of wales

bitten deep by the 

deep blue sea

the beach at rhossili

 the beach at rhossili

ripped by the west wind 

serrated by the waves’ incessancy 

a bay of fleece

grazing under the downs

steadfast as the one house

half way

fox-gloved 

        adder-snaked 

         warm-stoned

let your tired eyes drift away

horse riding across the bay 

let your tides break on burry holmes  

the wind tear your hair

un-scarf your day 

shake and say

well here we are 

here there and everywhere