Dylan Thomas – An Appreciation – By Hermione Moist

Hello,

Hermione Moist, the latest muse to pen an ode or two for GFB, outlines her appreciation of the great Welsh poet, drinker, shagger and slip-on wearer Dylan “The Rhyme Master” Thomas with a reworking of his classic 2012 poem Under Milk  Wood.

Udder Milk Wood (Apologies to Dylan Thomas)

It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobble streets silent and the hunched, courters’-and- rabbits’ wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishing boat-bobbing sea. The houses are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in the snouting, velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Cat there in the muffled middle by the pump and the town clock, the shops in mourning, the Welfare Hall in widows’ weeds. And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound town are sleeping now.

Well, I don’t think we’ll be bothering with Wales this year.

What do you think Arthur dear?

Dunno love, never bin.

Is that Welfare Hall a Premier Inn?

It’s mentioned here in the novel

Apparently it’s a fucking hovel

And all  the pubs playing Tom Jones’ singles.

You’ll never get me near velvet dingles.

Read Full Post »

My Fingers Are Stiff And Sore With The Cold – By Paul Holland

My fingers are stiff and sore with the cold
There are no smells from the pines
The winter sun shining through
Carries thoughts of warmth
The resins not warmed enough to ooze
I’d have to carry this pack much further south for such heat now
My shoulders hurt.
My poor fingers
Better get on
Winter brrr…

Read Full Post »

Rain Clouds – By Paul Holland

The hills are the spine of the world

The clouds bumping together in their haste to find the valley’s spillway millrace.

Now only their spine’s mark

All that’s visible in the rain clouds advance.

Below the village pushes up the umbrellas

Maybe shivers

As those hills disappear away again.

Read Full Post »

Paying For Light – By Paul Holland

Days of cold winter
Of clear light
Of Friday morning’s bustle
Of people in town before lunch
Of being free then
To tootle about doing that that needs done.
No shade for the van
But clear winters sun won’t do the dogs any harm waiting inside.
A haircut.
Then
Past that cafe were things didn’t work out for teaching
Into another for a skewer of shrimp and small beer.
Across the square,
By the crowd of parents
Waiting for their kids to finish for lunch.
To the Bank
Money for Luz-light-electricity then.
All my tootling on a free morning tied up with things to do.
Bustle and movement of scarves and winter coats
But a moment of clarity
Though in these moments all is so unclear
As my stumbling nowhere steps are revealed
By
The woman who works
In the bank
-Who has something of the image of a past lover-
Came in the door as I went out.
And outside the same winter’s sun
No tears but that lump in the throat’s there all the same.
For the woman who’s sharp teeth would cut my tongue’s root with each kiss.
I’d rather be dumb now Than singing this song of the clear light of winter.

Read Full Post »

Weekends – By Hermione Moist

This week, Hermione re-imagines a traditional English folk tale;

 

As I was going to Strawberry Fair

Singing, singing buttercups and daisies

I met a maiden selling her wares, Fol de dee!

Her eyes were blue and ginger her hair

It was all a bit Laura Ashley for my liking

And that’s not her natural colour if you ask me

Read Full Post »

Desperation – By Hermione Moist

Hello

Today we introduce you to a new contributor to Gfb; Poet, Seer and Woodland Sprite, Hermione Moist.

The following piece is labelled “Desperation” from her short collection of works bravely titled, “Trinkets From My Box”.

 Desperation:

Yesterday upon the stair

I met a man who wasn’t there.

I hung about a bit today

He didn’t show; I’ll bet he’s gay.

The bastard.

Read Full Post »

Mum’s Garden Full Of Birdsong – By Paul Holland (Again!)

Mum’s Garden Full Of Birdsong

There’s a tall tree in mum’s garden

That needs chopping

A Blackthorn

It and the Holly beside it

Spreading up up way beyond their bound

Blocking the light from the neighbours

Worrying my mum that someone may complain

Curly and I could not reach over far enough

That time we cut the hedge

But there’s a Blackbird that sings from that tree

He’s singing now

A Mistle Thrush, countless Tits

And the Blackbird and his mate

All in there

The Blackbird is singing

‘Yeooww woo

But isn’t it grand’

It is too

Read Full Post »

I’ve Taken To Cleaning The Smartphone’s Screen Wit – By Paul Holland

I’ve taken to cleaning the smartphone’s screen with a cloth
My skin’s oils smear today’s world’s gadgets
But if I do dishes without gloves or read newspapers my fingertips burn for
lack of oil
A legacy from carrying papers to sell on the streets maybe.
Maybe a reason too
Why I love another’s skin
Beauty skin deep as my drying digits
If let
Would suck the other’s skin to the marrow.
Hunger of skin and all therein.
I write to leave marks but some I hurriedly must smear away.

Read Full Post »

From The Prisons Of Our Own Minds – By Paul Holland

From The Prisons Of Our Own Minds

It is the sea that makes us realise
That we are indeed small
From the blade of grass
That we are indeed big
And for me
The memory of
The whitest light from the smile once
From of the face of my girl
She waiting at the top of my Street
To then
Go work her Saturday job in the hairdressers
And me mine in the garage.
That makes me know that I have indeed lived

Read Full Post »

Choosing A Sleeping Bag – By Paul Holland (Again!)

‘A bag with a zip but no baffle

Will be colder than a bag with a zip baffle’.

Well that’s me anyway

Always well baffled

Creaking up the stairs

Now bumping into the furniture

Walking into the corner

The Sharp pointy bit of of a day

Not quite sure where things were left.

To seize on to, to catch

To hold on not to let go

Never worked

The draughts still got in

Twisting and turning in the bag

Caught up in lining

Too warm too cold

A quality bag will have no zip so no need of bafflement.

Cozy too

Hell yeah

Always well baffled

Read Full Post »