Thirteen Blackbirds Looking at a Man (R S Thomas Poems)
IIt is calm.It is as thoughwe lived in a gardenthat had not yet arrivedat the knowledge ofgood and evil.But there ...
IIt is calm.It is as thoughwe lived in a gardenthat had not yet arrivedat the knowledge ofgood and evil.But there ...
All right, I was Welsh. Does it matter?I spoke a tongue that was passed onTo me in the place I ...
To live in Wales is to be consciousAt dusk of the spilled bloodThat went into the making of the wild ...
We were a people taut for war; the hillsWere no harder, the thin grassClothed them more warmly than the coarseShirts ...
When I close my eyes, I can see it,That bare hill with the man ploughing,Corrugating that brown roofUnder a hard ...
Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed,Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills,Who pens a few sheep ...
So we know she must have said something to him--What language, life? Oh, what language? Thousands of years later I inhabit a house whose stone is ...
I have been all men known to history,Wondering at the world and at time passing;I have seen evil, and the ...
I have been all men known to history,Wondering at the world and at time passing;I have seen evil, and the ...
For the first twenty years you are still growingBodily that is: as a poet, of course,You are not born yet. ...
There are places in Wales I don't go:Reservoirs that are the subconciousOf a people, troubled far downWith gravestones, chapels, villages ...
Not conscious that you have been seeking suddenly you come upon itthe village in the Welsh hills dust free with no road outbut the one ...
There was Dai Puw. He was no good.They put him in the fields to dock swedes,And took the knife from ...
Shelley dreamed it. Now the dream decays.The props crumble; the familiar waysAre stale with tears trodden underfoot.The heart's flower withers ...
Too far for you to seeThe fluke and the foot-rot and the fat maggotGnawing the skin from the small bones,The ...
Do you despair with all these conurbations above you? They are the legions the God- Man was unwilling to summon. After the last symphony, ...
I am a man now.Pass your hand over my brow.You can feel the place where the brains grow.I am like ...
Often I tryTo analyse the qualityOf its silences. Is this where God hidesFrom my searching? I have stopped to listen,After ...
I praise you becauseyou are artist and scientistin one. When I am somewhatfearful of your power,your ability to work miracleswith ...
With her fingers she turns paintinto flowers, with her bodyflowers into a remembranceof herself. She is at workalways, mending the ...
Laid now on his smooth bedFor the last time, watching dullyThrough heavy eyelids the day's colourWidow the sky, what can ...
Ah, you should see Cynddylan on a tractor.Gone the old look that yoked him to the soil,He's a new man ...
Looking upon this tree with its quaint pretensionOf holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws,Or marking the texture of ...
Poor hill farmer astray in the grass;There came a movement and he looked up, butAll that he saw was the ...
A little aside from the main road,becalmed in a last-century greyness,there is the chapel, ugly, without the appealto the tourist ...
Scarcely a street, too few housesTo merit the title; just a way betweenThe one tavern and the one shopThat leads ...
The salmon lying in the depths of Llyn Llifon Secretly as a thought in a dark mind,Is not so old as ...
They see you as they see you,A poor farmer with no name,Ploughing cloudward, sowing the windWith squalls of gulls at ...
It was the other way round:God waved his slow wandAnd the creature became a woman,Imperceptibly, retaining its body,Nose, brow, lips, ...
And God held in his handA small globe. Look he said.The son looked. Far off,As through water, he sawA scorched ...
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