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Thu, 26 Aug 2010
A Little something by my good self, of course it is on my Welsh Page, Cymru. Enjoy.

  Dodies Dream World
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You can turn off the music by clicking on the sound button, left bottom corner of picture frame.
http://apps.rockyou.com/rockyou.swf?instanceid=158124181
I wrote the poem below not long after we moved into our house in Sychdyn. It had been empty a while and the garden was in the most dreadful state. Every plant was being choked by it's neighbour, in fact it was so bad we had to wear our motor bike gloves and jacket to keep the thorns off us. but it was worth it. The picture below is of yet our home now, after all the hard work of making London Road beautiful we moved here to Pontybodkin and once more took at least three years getting it in to shape.. I have as I said wrote this piece of poetry on the completion of " London Road, Sychdyn.
Sad to say, the house was resold and the garden has vanished, it is all law. It still has a few bits of us still there, including our beautiful Cairn Terrier Little Kelly, who passed away and is buried in the garden. Hush, I'm not telling you where.
Seligor of Seligor's Castle etc.

SWEET RELIEF


the back
garden before

Strangled by nature, turned brown under sodden strands of wilting yellow.
Choked stems try to reach up to catch hold of the suns powerful rays.
Thorns dig deep into the fragile growth of youth,
gouging out crevasses that will never be healed.
Dying....all around the cries of starvation can be heard on the wind.
Then new voices are heard, hands wrestle with the undergrowth,
pulling, twisting, turning, letting light through to the darkened soil.

Oh sweet relief.... I can feel a breeze upon my face.
Look, look, there is a light. There, high above me, a faint light shining.
Is this me, saved. Are we all to be saved from this hell that has befallen us.
Reach out, reach up, climb the sunbeam to a new life,
stretch your backs, flex your arms, lift your heads high.
Fresh mown hay gives way to a blanket of green.  
Birds sing in the trees above us, bees fly deep into our bellies,
taste the sweet honey which flows freely from within us.

Days pass by, life gets stronger, hearts begin to beat again.
Peach and purple, azure and turquoise, russet and gold.
Colour creeps across the horizon like a rainbow reborn.
Scarlet fuchsia dance gaily above the chamomile lawn.
Tangerine montbretia sway to and fro, like fronds of fire, swaying
beneath the lilac buddleia which is, in turn kissed gently by the painted lady.

Sweet... sweet perfume fills the air, carried on the wind to each hidden corner.
The sickly smell of the honeysuckle tells us that night is descending,
Scented stock adds to the evenings mystic aroma.
Tomorrow we shall awake and feel the dew on our petals,
see the whiteness of the clouds in the summer sky,
feel the softness of the rose petals as they fall upon our delicate blades.

Tomorrow we shall fill our bodies with the silver raindrops
as they fall to the sepia ground beneath our leaves.
Tenderly stretch our roots deeper into the soft earth below.
But now to sleep, to dream in the shadows.
Sleeping quietly, waking sometime, then drifting back to sleep.
The moonlight kisses us whilst we rest, then comes the morning
and we awake knowing we have been blessed. 




Written by Dorothy Milnes Simmę1999
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Posted 17:50

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