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Cyhydedd fer |
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Sordid Tricks A warrior wears a suit of white Believing that he fights for right. His leaders wear the colour black Telling him what should be his track. Politics and truth can never mix They do all sorts of sordid tricks. Politician often survives By taking risks with young men's lives. Ryter Roethicle |
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Cry Loud Cry loud with the mother who tries To shield her child from all the lies. Lies that feed a danger so stark In the streets, so steeped in the dark. Dark nights that lay heavy on her fragile shoulders, her life one blur. Blur in edges of black and white Notions of law, that fade in night. Deborah Bel |
Cyhydedd fer Posts |
Deborah BelCry loud with the mother who tries To shield her child from all the lies. Lies that feed a danger so stark In the streets, so steeped in the dark. Dark nights that lay heavy on her fragile shoulders, her life one blur. Blur in edges of black and white Notions of law, that fade in night. Night falls onto streets like stupor Laden heat, emotions in fever. Fever rising on points of pain Inflicted there in bloody rain. Rain in tears and sweat of the poor Trapped there, searching daily for cure. Cure for streets where children crumble From innocence to then stumble. Stumble from political lies, Cry loud, for the mother who tries. Tries to break away from the fears In her streets, cry loud with your tears. -----
When She Wakes
Wild Flower |
Gloria CarpenterToday the Back Road called my name With turn around the bend it came And drove with me to show a way I’d never been before today It took me through the countryside Past hedgerows high where birdnests hide Through wildrose lanes with petalled scent Yet still it travelled, still it went Until at last, as if it knew It left me here, where I found you. back to list |
Ryter RoethicleA hundred thousand voices sound, Onto the parched earth they pound. Pounding, pounding, blessed sounding, Crashing splashing, heav’nly washing. A hundred thousand puddles form, And parched earthy cracks transform. Filling, filling, over-filling, Gushing, running over, flooding. A hundred thousand rivers flow, Into towns and homes they go. Gushing, pushing, torrential breath, Finally sated with human death. -----
What should I do |
Lorainne StarkI see the clock and hear its chimes, precisely it declares the time. I do not wish to waste this gift; to go through life like a cloud drifts. Every second leads to minutes- they become the associates, That come together as hours seize each moment, as it flowers. back to list |
Sonnetina2I travel life by wings of night With moon above in featherlight I never land, what is the use I like to fly, I’m on the loose I have no strings or baggage yet I have no lovers to forget By flying free I choose my course I need no other outside force. back to list |
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