Good morning to you all and Happy St David’s Day.
Bore da i chi i gyd a Dydd San Dafydd Hapus.
I’d like to start this post by mentioning, as any good marketeer would, my book is now live and available for purchase as an eBook or Paperback should you so wish to do. I’ve set up a new page, my bookshelf, where you can find all the details about ‘Of Magick, Myths and Monsters’ and how to purchase it.
It’s an important day for me being my Patron Saints day and holds a lot of special memories. This endeavour for me, which took about 14 months to finish, is a long-time dream come true. So to see my work in print and get it published on this planned day is just fantastic.
As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t expect much from this book. After all, it’s no Stephen King or James Herbert but it is my first and I’m very proud of it. I do hope though that those of you who read my blog and enjoy my work will consider getting yourself a copy where you’ll find some original poetry and short stories.
Thank you all again for your wonderful support; I appreciate it more than I can ever truly express.
Anyhoo, that’s enough plugging for today, let’s get back to the writing and a poem from the Welsh Poet, The Reverend R S Thomas. His interpretation of what it’s like to live in Wales is just wonderful.
To live in Wales is to be conscious
At dusk of the spilled blood
That went into the making of the wild sky,
Dyeing the immaculate rivers
In all their courses.
It is to be aware,
Above the noisy tractor
And hum of the machine
Of strife in the strung woods,
Vibrant with sped arrows.
You cannot live in the present,
At least not in Wales.
There is the language for instance,
The soft consonants
Strange to the ear.
There are cries in the dark at night
As owls answer the moon,
And thick ambush of shadows,
Hushed at the fields’ corners.
There is no present in Wales,
And no future;
There is only the past,
Brittle with relics,
Wind-bitten towers and castles
With sham ghosts;
Mouldering quarries and mines;
And an impotent people,
Sick with inbreeding,
Worrying the carcase of an old song.
Image from Pixabay