{"id":7962,"date":"2014-04-07T13:00:27","date_gmt":"2014-04-07T13:00:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.locwsinternational.com\/?p=7962"},"modified":"2022-02-06T17:54:52","modified_gmt":"2022-02-06T17:54:52","slug":"tawe-mega-poem","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/?p=7962","title":{"rendered":"TAWE MEGA POEM"},"content":{"rendered":"

As part of Art Across The City 2014<\/a>, we launched the TAWE MEGA POEM.<\/strong> Inspired by the Dylan Thomas 100\u00a0centenary, Swansea and the artworks and workshops<\/a> in Art Across The City<\/strong>, we want you to get involved in writing\u00a0your own poetry to add to the MegaPoem<\/strong>. Award winning poet Rhian Edwards<\/a> has written the opening lines and now it\u2019s up to you to be inspired. The lines of poetry can respond to the previous line, be a message to the world, or whatever you think is poetic. We have received over 1000<\/strong> entries to date, and every day we watch it grow longer.<\/p>\n

We are looking for contributions from all over the world so send your lines of poetry to info@artacrossthecity.com and share them on social media #MegaPoem<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

Here is the poem so far:<\/p>\n

Baptised by Vikings and anchored like Rome in a brine basin of seven snapdragon hills, spills this marble town and city of laughter.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A pother of ship sails, a smelting brume, Copperopolis, coal harbour, metal morphosis to fire-clay, alum, tin-plate and porcelain.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To the coffee-ringed poems in the ruins and scrawling ashes of the Kardomah Cafe.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A fog sits snug in Swansea Bay Figures emerge cold from the grey<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shaking like fever and fearing their doom, Watchful of shadows in deepening gloom<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But as the sun burts out the shadows sway, looking across Swansea bay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Their ranks slowly swelling as they follow a path that generations before them also had trod.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Some place to enter, enter into some place<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Following a habit repeated down the centuries. Nature and nurture combining to guide them inwards.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

High above the blitzed streets The winking lights of Cwmdonkin, Constitution and Clifton Row<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Stare bug-eyed at passers by. shoaling on pavements, hearts full, feet dancing in rhythms of every emotion.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Heel and toe, to and fro, to the syncopating street bands of bus and bicycle, cart and cabby and their strident string and brass sections,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Twirling irreverent waltzes and impudent fandangos in the applauding glow, sprayed wide on wet acrylic pavements, of the sodium streetlights<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Side step, quick step, dances in the key of life all twisted and tangoed along the fair-isle knitting patterns of their humdrum existences,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cast readily into the burgeoning throng, step lightly on the mist kissed cobbles, trip a light fantastic from the hills into the valleys of<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

wobbly cast lines from fisherman hands lining up for inspection, be straight not saggy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Speaking of Vikings, Michael Laudrup got sacked. Revenge for Berserkers, long after the fact?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Barrage bricked, the walls of the River swell, sick no more<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nothing surer than taxes and death I sob uncontrollably as I take my last working breath<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sat locked waiting in Bath with a bubble poet pinching her snuff and the absurd, absurd drama of old age a mist cloud on the windscreen<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tick tock, tick tock. Wipers mark time passing, revealing countless clean beginnings as they obliterate the past.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea Jack and Jill went up Townhill to fetch a bucket of water, mun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And Oer the crest o the ould train station was a pile o local vomit and there were boys on wheels, one had a tooth gone from his gob Grubby!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And den dere was an girf – a big auld girf – a proud Welsh girf riding up and high. All my eggs were spent but I didnt care. LLandaff.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Araf said the sign. So I sped up. I couldn’t wait to get to Swansea. Araf indeed you lovely bugger. You lovely bugger I repeated.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Big bloke big bloke 6 egg yolk – 6 egg yolk? Rugby is it? Rugby for breakfast.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There once was a fellow from Swansea Who dressed in a white and black onesie,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

His missus said “Taff, You’re ‘aving a laugh”<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And threw him out, now he is gonesie<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art Makes Children Powerful<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Milky Milk, Mammy Milk. I’m yer Mammy. Mammy. Milky.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea of seven hills Wales’ answer to Rome The bay is like Naples, it’s our lovely home<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Windy down Wind St, whining ’bout wine Grey streets come alive, dressed to the nines<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Half naked ‘cept tinsel, make up and fun 6 pints with me mates, 5 shots, just begun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What Hitler started the Council finished<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

when they ordered panzers instead of pansies causing chaos in the flower beds and annexing several roundabouts<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

before their mistake was spotted. Still, they’ll melt them down for plowshares, and order will return.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A finger-chilling morning, a blank Gendros sky, The neighbours\u2019 black bags are piling, Past the Ladbrokes and the balaclavad children,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Paper-white clouds high in Rhyddwen Road, Past Caswell Beach, Liberty Stadium, The old man whistling louder than a gun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A rainy dark day in Swansea town and the wind Blowing everything around. Past the shut-down pub and the bright yellow houses.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A graphite-grey sky, this lovely, ugly town awakens. Revving engines, zombie-like commuters, tumbling leaves flying like graceful birds.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A stone-grey Llansamlet sky, rain picking at the pedestrians, Pepino\u2019s Pizza, Teabag the tramp and the mitching pupils.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A nippy Penlan morning, the crumbling chapel, the spindly trees, the pea-green house on the street’s end to the towering Grape and Olive.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A yawn-filled morning, the familiar pitter patter of rain. A blur of fields, a flood of navy uniform, the mountain that hides the sun.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Pencil-grey clouds and charcoal tarmac. Past the lemon Volkswagen Beetle, the dead Redrow park and the ribbons of the Zebra Crossing.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The air is crisp in Tregof Village. Past the postman who walks across the garden, the potholed roads to the ash-filled steelworks.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A blinding, winter sun, a lonely park. Past the lady from the library, the over-flowing river, the moony boy, the estate where Kelsie lives.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Llansamlet sun is drawn, the clunking train track, houses with ancient Christmas lights, the tattood folk and the sleeping policemen.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

An ice-grey sky over Birchgrove, rain gushing down. Past the endless terraces, the Scissors Sisters Hairdressers and the wild gypsy horses.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A sun-stroked horizon, a bed that never lets go.The icecream truck, the flickering traffic light, the grey squirrel and the gossip ladies.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I eat my cereal in my own time for another day of bore. Past the man with no shoes and the jogger who smokes while he runs.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Runs to where? Where is there? Over by ‘ere he says with a stare.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He takes a drag from the dirty fag. Stumbles to a stop.coughs<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Through Kingsway, one way, this way, to pave the way for more to open doors, brave the day, tired or fit, to air their graces&curse traffic<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On High St. where the sister lives, a homeless person grumbles, bout his lack of baccy rolling skills due to arthritic manual fumbles<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

less than 30 yards away the Palace theater crumbles, perhaps they both should re locate, to Oystermouth down Mumbles.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A teeter in the terrace and a dream out of kilter, we lift steel from the furnace.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I made a Viking helmet from the fruit bowl and its contents but unfortunately it looks more like I have a banana lodged in my skull<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I ask him again what the area out past Swansea is called but he just mumbles<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Smile, while memories unfold before your eyes- people, places – all those faces – HOLD – the wave crashes round the stormy bay of your heart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When the elephant died the local shop sold out of black crepe when the elephant died the villagers mourned and mother Bostock retired<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The elephant that died was bought for \u00a320 They sent for help from all around Slaughterman, butcher, taxidermist and carpenter lent a hand<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Between the wall & the stairs The elephant that died would stand For 60 years till the elephant that died met her demise<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On a great bonfire The elephant that died was fried<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cline Gardens: giant rhubarb like elephant ears. Vaulting out of bog, positively prehistoric. Trust Swansea to plant its own umbrellas.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Clyne Gardens: mum tells me the red bridge is Monet’s, the one from waterlilies. I’ve always been so gullible.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A bold Swansea man Developed a plan To take an adventurous trip.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ll build a rocket from what’s in my pocket and things that I find down the tip.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He emptied his pocket And got quite a shock, it Held no more than loose change and fluff.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And an old polo mint, all covered in lint “I think I’ll need lots more stuff”.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

So he went to the tip And his heart took a skip When he saw jumbled mountains of junk.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Old railings, and tellies, A pram and some wellies, And what looked like an elephant’s trunk.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He filled up the pram, With equipment and ran, To a shed he owned down near the Mumbles<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where he clanked and he squeaked, And he glued for a week, Until finally people heard rumbles.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

His rocket unveiled, Pushed slowly on rails, Down to the shoreline at noon.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Climbing into the junk, He blew the elephant’s trunk And out came a wonderful tune<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On hearing the sound, Folks flocked around, And asked him “Mate, what’s occuring?”<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’m off to the shtarsh Or maybe jusht Marsh He said but his voice it was slurring.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A lad said “You’re drunk!”, “No, it’sh the elephant’sh trunk, Blowing it made me quite giddy”<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Let the countdown begin!, And he straps himself in, And jets of white smoke swirl about.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

10, 9, 8, 7, He looks toward heaven 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 then 1<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Ignition! he cries, And he closes his eyes, As he presses a button marked “BANG”<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Now folk who were there, Do solemnly swear, They saw what I’ll tell you right now<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

That there was a roar, And the ship left the floor, Slowly at first, but then POW!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

At an incredible pace, It shot into space, And nobody really knew how.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Well this is a secret, Dear reader, please keep it, And don’t share it with anyone.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The rocket’s in orbit, To this very day, And it flies over Swansea at One.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Coke of joy that smelt the dream to untouchable lava, there is work that goes unseen.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the coughing donkeys on silt-slabbed Goosegog Lane,squirt 30 translucent eels with tacky bibles and evil intent<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

rain drops fell , lit our face with glee, ma has stories to tell delectable view to see, fragrance of wet earth is a jiffy of million worth<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Stout calved shopgirls,2 Weights and last week’s Bunty,quiver behind vanilla nets that reek of hot Bovril and Icelandic Shag.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

playing in the mud dancing to the sound of thunder to the nature completely surrendered season of joy and delight enthrall us ; lovely sight<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

fills a new urge for life to never lose hope after losing a fight a bright day is on the way after every eerie night<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sand singing, stinging in the salt laden wind, Resting awhile, then restless again, In its quest to find a windless haven.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Little did we know, all those years ago, the price this place would make us pay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This sand is too soft for anger. These skies too cosy for rage. Little did we know.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And in the end there will be nothing.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In this back-street Sandfields pub I’ve just wandered into there’s a laid table with a tired and un-tiered wedding cake and a scattering of<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

guests who’ve just arrived. Two youths in a corner wear dark grey suits with white carnations. Some kids look bored. Light sparkles off my<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

glass as I pay for my pint and somewhere above my head Elton John is belting away at ‘Purple Heart’. Everyone looks thoroughly down-at-heel<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and heart at this modest occasion. A regular sits at the bar scanning a Mirror as the kids grow more and more restless. The youths bring<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

over their empty glasses. The glum one’s the groom. The landlady yawns and pours him a short. ‘Iss a lovely day today, Stan,’ she sighs,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

‘but I don know about ‘gettin married!’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Clout seam and ore, hand and horse, history of this city in sea, ore, and burning gorse.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ve ridden on a timeless wave, it took me all the way, to the open arms of Swansea Bay, where Salubrious Passage, eased my stay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Behind Uncle Festiniog’s Emporium of Tiresome Epithets,debauched tabbycats glower into Bracchi bins for slippery fishtails of contentment.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Behind Uncle Festiniog’s Emporium of Tiresome Epithets,debauched tabbycats glower into Bracchi bins for slippery fishtails of contentment.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Crystal-white pigeons fly past the trees that no longer hold leaves. The stench of dirty old air as we climb the twisty hill and turn.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The damp threat of Swansea Town and the wave-singing sea. A distant tanker, anchored and mindful to the Mumbles rocks reaching out for Devon<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

An obelisk stands guard over a fury of gulls while the sea bleaches the shore and the kite-surfing frogmen glide with the buffeting wind.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past Wind Street, the pig statue and the castle tipping over. To the busker strumming the two strings of his violin just like a guitar.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The old lady climbs Constitution Hill, half on her knees, past busfuls of pensioners and the two derelict nursing homes ageing side by side.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A sleeping estate and an accusing moon, past the graffitti\u2019d Llwybr sign, the artificial ASDA green and the toothless monster car park.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Grey AM, past the windowed woman twitching her floral curtains, past the pale whiffs of weed and nine thirty doorstop tinnies.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nose to the ground in Bryn Mill Park, sniff the grass, bench and shed, eat the crumbs, scare the ducks till their bums moon the air.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The water\u2019s edge upon the lake So still a breath would shake it;<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

At my feet, broken leaves Spread like a promise,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And above, the birds in desolate call: ‘Where are you? Where are you?’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Grey pavings framed by greyer skies above: A pitying of turtle doves.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Taff river swelling, overflowing deluge, rescue boats in force on a drizzly St. David’s day. Daffodils swaying in the swirly, swirly gale.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Taff gurgles and sploshes over Blackweir’s concrete basin and sill.A part of the river flows through the fish pass.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sun sparkles like diamonds reflecting off the snow-topped hills far into the distance.I stand and look.This is my world.This is my Wales<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The river washes a shoal of red,white and green fish down between the rocks in the valleys to spill out into the city on match day.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They split up, swimming in separate shoals to Primark, and the stadium,crowding under umbrellas,sheltering from the water that brought them.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Domestic skeletons, a pugilistic streak, and minor damage calls. Proper public stitches.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As a multitude of umbrellas sprout like a cornucopia of multi-coloured fungi protecting us from the seeping wounds in scar-slashed skies.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A watery history hoofing down in a horseshoe bay, spilling a coastal carpet of onyx seaweed, Granny\u2019s Custard and worm casts.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the curling hill from Sketty, the Gorseinon girl in Taffy\u2019s window, the wood-panelled Brunswick & Noah’s Yard with its swallowing sofas<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past Manselton Road for New Years Eve, turn of the century; my first and only photo of a firework blazing in a blacked out sky.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the Oystermouth Hotel, the Jack-packed houses and the Luftwaffe-bombed school, I stomp through Twin Town, careful not to stumble.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The lamplights are cooling, a fox slinks back home. I drive through a forest of traffic lights, a sea of cones, tyres swishing in the rain.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Costa Del Swansea takes itself for granted, fluid like the copper that runs through its veins. Sun shines, its people come out of hiding.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

at weekend, to your gentle town, fascists armed with hate, sipped in your pubs, walked your streets, next time Abertawe, scream, no pasaron<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cut off from the golden, children with kites men digging lugworms, beach by a river of black tarmac Abertawe turns its ugly back on the sea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More milk is needed.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the rushing estuary at the sudden end of Ferry Road and the silent dog-walker is accompanied by her cat-sized beast.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the overgrown nettles along the rough path, past the colourful cottages and the stand-alone house that demands your attention.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In Swansea Marina, the sun’s reflection looks like a fire in the water while the crystals of sand are being washed away.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The wind whispers wildly in my ear, the pigeons hunt, the Castle Street waterfall glistens, the Swansea Jacks stone shines with pride.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the garden of daffodils and the bird choir, the crashing waves against the pier, Gwdihw Lane where the smokers hoot.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the mountains that pick at the clouds, past the butchers on Alexander Road, the Davids called Dai and the Welsh accents that boom.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the old lady struggling to carry bread, the abused phone box, the Londis off licence, the flowing trees and the blue and white chapel.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sun is a spotlight, the dog yaps like a siren, umbrellas over wooden tables, boats harboured like sheep in a herd, amongst hilly waves.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the winking green light to Liberty Stadium where the Swans will rise and the crowds will roar like dragons.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea High Street calls my name, music-filled to the ever-changing Bay of sandy children and bucket-carrying Dads.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Commmuters with their Costa coffees, Pound shops, two of them, the steps of Lazer Zone, the smells of pizza.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The simplicity of cut grass, the tune of cats waking, trees waving in the breeze, doors sliding open to a monk-like silence.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The road winds like a ribbon through the maze of houses in Cae Castell. The glowering buildings protect the town like soldiers.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the Bwlch Road Evergreens, humungus like giraffes, past the ivy-covered B&B and the beardy Rag-and-Bone man hunting for scrap metal.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the deafening drumbeat of the sports car, past Julian\u2019s corner shop, the family of Daffodils and the gang of teenagers, loud as lions.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the swirling stream of Waunarlwydd Common, the waking pheasants, the buzzard sitting proud, heather bushes with no wind to be heard.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The wind whistles in my ear like a distant, gentle voice. I hear a choir of birds, a creaking of trees, then the accents of strangers.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Ivy covers like a Ninja, a bald man mows the lawn. The night-coloured dog misbehaves, children play with a ball of green lightening.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the retro sweet shop, Scrumptious, sweet jars in the window. Past the black and white hairdressers, past Yogi in Londis.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the red-brick boxing club and the sun- yellow building, the swishing trees, the toddlers crying to nursery.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Orange girls stumble down the steps of Castle Gardens, laden with shopping bags. Their bleached hair held back by their fake cat claws.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Condensation on the windows, damp grass, puddles, wet metal fences, the retirement home with smiling Grandmas, the abandoned church.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tooting horns, beaming cars, flashing traffic lights, overgrown lawns, waving trees, wooden flower boxes, children screaming down the street<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the bright lights of the fast food joints, rain flowing, past the Grand Theatre, the white walls of the IC2 and the excitement inside<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Birds call at each other like alarm clocks. Past the stone-clad houses, the gravel on the walls. Poppies wreathe the monument like a scarf.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

An icy breeze walks across my face, Glan-Y-Mor park awakens. I swerve around the monument to the Reverend James Pub, yellow as the sun.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Children hop onto the bus like bunnies,rushing for their beloved seats. We bump past the Castle Street fountain shooting from the ground.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The stench of Garden Village Lane and the creaking of the rusting swing. Past the curtained house, the rushing people and the eager cars.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A blue-veined sky, we go down the Valley hills. We see fancy cars, the Vue Cinema, kids screaming, smelling smoke in the air.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Past the library, the Canolfan Centre, the Gorseinon Aldi and everyone with Trolleys, past the cars tooting and the swirling roads.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The dark black sky bats the sun out of sight. We pass the Loughor signs covered in graffiti, the feather-hatted man and the chalkboards.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A sun-kissed day, smiles slapped on their faces. Past the white-painted LC2, past the seafront and the monstrous Grape and Olive Tower.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Breeze by my side, swaying trees, legs aching. It looks as if someone has painted the whole world green.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There was a poem of Swansea , a mega poem of Tawe, The Jacks did craft, a powerful draft of local peoples poetry<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From Town’ill I stomp, my eyes drawn onto our bank of Swans, I m careful not to stumble on cobbled ski slope, its 5 degrees warmer down ere<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Does Dylan deserve ‘dis? Does Dylan deserve dat? Defo Dai ,Defo<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Townhill’s people Dylan assembled to meet Benjamin and create, remember and perform words for their own glory. Hallelujah BBC2. SOON!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The typically, happy Swansea man. Turkish barber trimmed eyebrows remove any Dennis Healey from his face. Silver grey hair trimmed 3 weekly<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Minding his own jack business. I see his magnificence built on his neatly piled pyjamas<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He smiles at my successes His still white, size 14, addias shell toecap dap collection, shares my wardrobe He d rather live quietly<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Saw someone in Swansea market who said God I thought you was dead. I’m not I been there done that and chose to live instead.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My brain it has holes in and stuff it just leaks out, I forgot to but my name up there. I’m Sue A’Hern who chose to live instead.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea, my first love, my first hate Every time I try to leave You pull me back into your jealous embrace<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

nurtured and grown in this fair city, much to love much to pity. how I love swansea city<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who knew what this town could breed but we all must conceed anything is possible if we truely believe<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But what separates the believers from the non-believers?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea is home for two different birds the Ospreys and Swans. Black and white, two different games, two different worlds.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Chess-like and clashing, tarmac and linen. Jostling, on wing with slow back crows.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trawlers sail into the docks at dawn under the watch of Kilvey Hill.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Outward bound the sails go by sailing on with out a glance towards the shore.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The great swan of Swansea pecks out my feeble eyeballs in loving fashion and steals my creamy ice-cream with pure fashion.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and we all stand together<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sea as silk wraps round me smoothing my skin<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

turn to say something clever, now wine is in my weather, no press for sure, cast this weak line to sink or swim.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the swan of seas, the sea of swans? thou art confused at the sea of nothingness the empty pit which lies before me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shall we cast ourselves into this vast sea of forgetfulness? Here dolphins glide and Mermaids play within Swansea’s eternal bliss.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Confirms only a fraction, corroborates in silence I was here, Like lights on the hill.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Do you Intrigue Console Interest Or merely confirm my existence.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Miscellaneous necessary equations, form only some of the parts.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They tell me Swansea cemeteries are full, Bury me standing up – save room, was good enough when I was alive.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Kilvey Hill looks down on events Industry done it’s worse and moved on. In the soil lay childhood memories of making dens and having fun.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Let’s all wander through the market, a bag of cockles in hand. Through the town and across the Mumbles Road, to build castles in the sand.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To the Pump House, where once was a blue bridge over the Marina. Where Dylan sits outside the pub, wishing he could order a beer.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

`coffee-ringed poems or beer-ringed poems or what else would be on order outside the pub?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cast adrift your thoughts and look out over the bay, see the breathing town, awash with possibilities and the sea stretches on for miles….<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everywhere I look there is, new art high and low, Cardboard heads and giant text, everywhere I go,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Only the heart holds memories, only the mind regret. Love is ever a stranger ill met.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

let the rain wash over me and set me free..lets enjoy the art across this great City<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like Swansea because you can play Rugby. Rugby is a fun. I like to play in the sun.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I LIKE TO PLAY IN THE PARK IN THE DARK<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

HAVING ICE CREAM IS MY DREAM!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seas of utopian futures collide, mesmerised by the glint of an eye, surely resides for ever amid the Swansea skies<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

days out in the swansea sun, having fun, playing in the sea and chasing all the bees<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like to watch the boats in the marina as they float float float.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea city are the best they play foot ball then have a rest<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like the beach at Swansea bay, I go there with my friends to play.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

having ice cream on the beach and playing in the sand making castle<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

swansea museum is a great place to be, hope you have as much fun as me.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We just met Dylan Thomas. Swansea is still the best place \ud83d\ude42<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Mughal family – Having a great time in Swansea. Luton.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

do not go gently into that good night<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

we came to see some monkeys in plantasia, they were cheeky just like me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On a lovely day at the Marina looking at the boats the sun is shining \ud83d\ude42<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Getting ready to go in the sunshine<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

looking for the hills to drop in on my longboard for a long speedy trip<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the days are long for skaters but are short for everyone else.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

boat trips will be great, can not wait<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i have travelled far and wide just to enjoy the country side<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

walking is all so bad apart from when your in the gower it makes it fun especially in the sun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

time to go swimming i have had so much fun sad to leave but i have had so much fun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The grey curtain of the bay when horizon has sunk, encases you like a wet blanket..<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

down Swansea bay we watch in ore, as the red arrows fly by and soar soar soar!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dylan Thomas was a very clever chap, his poetry put Swansea on the map.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Born in The Strand, long,long ago Grew up,wandered and roamed.I had to come back I’m a Swansea Jack.To recover the heart I’d left at home.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Back in Swansea, my heart and me; Old friends are still about.And when I go,scatter my ashes, so I’ll still be here, no doubt. Bette.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Looking out to swansea bay, I saw a sliver of silver, everwhere else was dark.The silver ran across a boat and it was beautiful,lit up alone<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gower has a power which make you want to stay and each day say,and pray, that it is a joy, to be a boy and live in Gower.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If cefn bryn were a bit smaller, i would feel a little bit taller<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the MINE culture has strangled the pit community , where solidarity it fought mortally , ideals played the everyday onslaught …<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Spinning plate nestbox Flying sorcerer Pine tree needle Unpicks rules Swansea seabird song for Shanty town concrete prefab fools<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Rhossili bay, oh what a great day !<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sands may have been washed away But the rocks remain Firm and rugged as ever Shaped by the sea And the Hand of God.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Breath pounding in your chest the view starts and stops everything and anything.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

in Swansea anything is possible if you believe it is<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Easter time in swansea city. The sun is shining, the chicks and ducks are chirping in the city centre. children hunt for golden eggs.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

we all dream of joe’s ice cream!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Me and Glo went to what used to be the Maritime Museum. Showed her the old train n tram lines, 65 years in Swansea and she’d never seen em.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Went for a coffee, a couple of streets and boats away from the sand. Heard a voice I recognised, sat at the table behind was Jo Brand.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i love cheese from swansea lol<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like swansea people<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

g<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

gggggggggggggggggggg<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art and Paintings schools and more if your feeling hot sit by the sea shore.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ble ydyn nhw sy’n caru y byd<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

stars are only skyfully<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

stay where you’ve never thought to erase the full mind the full mind<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

pwy a phwy maen nhw a fi a thri a thri?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

pay less attention when crossing Tawe melt into river bay waves air flying is fun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

how long does it go on and when will you finally say fine<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ever mindful of a hole in our world we invented a beginning to keep us entertained stories and stories over and over while in the woods a<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

full moon flowered<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a wild garlic and another wove a way to the sea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

os wyt ti’n dechrau ble wyt ti’n nawr dyn ni’n colli y gyd<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

but sitting on the fallen oak she becomes herself again<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

branching out into the summer clouds, hanging adrift in far out dreams that weave the story being told<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Come in No4 ew times up I’m coming now in a minet I bloody luvs zis I do That’ll be a Swansea boating lake minute then Ow mush ew times up<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mid-Wales1848, an elephant died of lead poisoning it’s buried behind the Talbot Hotel. It must be true coz the internet told me as well.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

http:\/\/www.bbc.co.uk\/news\/uk-wales-13094803 Don’t know if a link is poetry. But the Talbot Hotel Elephant I just had to see.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

nofio yn lc 2, hufen ia yn joe’s<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Her sweeping bay an attribute of gold New buildings now adorn her just like jewels As forward she keeps moving brave and bold (Dem Carosi)<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

abertawe, the new and the old, lots of secrets waiting to be told.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shreck is love, Shreck is life.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What would you charge to get rid of my wife?!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nothing, ‘cos she’s your trouble & strife!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We love Wales and all its hills We think Wales is special and brill We love exploring in our caravan Although we never get a suntan<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We come to Wales whenever we can To visit Mared and Prysor and little Betsan<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

SHREK IS LOVE SHREK IS LIFE<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ew are fabdbulous ew r.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

hey hey hey hey mush machine<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sound pal mate nice ‘un \ud83d\ude09<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The slang, sounds and dialect that bind and joins us, that repells and keeps others at bay has its own musciality and beauty, if you listen<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You cannot fail to hear, cannot filter:<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Im here and you are there<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Me and bro and mum are down the marina.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

All you need is love, love is all you need<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I love my family and my family loves me….<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i think its time i went for a wee<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

watching and soaring, seagulls so cheeky, Swansea’s surveillance system, they’ll keep you in check,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Do not go gently into this good night, Down shots, get leathered and pass out, What a typical Swansea sight!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shakespeares women pout and ponder on a Swansea stage, women named ships recorded on the dock stone page, words bleed into Swansea bay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

cycles and icecream on the swansea bay what a painful ride on a sunny day!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Her sweeping bay an attribute of gold New buildings now adorn her just like jewels As forward she keeps moving brave and bold<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Her craftsmen won\u2019t give up their set of tools<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

if they did then they would be fools.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i hate bad rules they are for fools! i love my family and my family loves me i think it is time for a wee an a cup of tea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sun is shining very bright, colours illuminate our heart. time is constant, it never stops. rejoice the world and stick to right.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On a rainy Easter day We find ourselves on the way to Swansea…. Where we look at the sea And thankfully Give thanks for Easter Sunday.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On Easter Sunday the bunnies come out to play on Swansea bay to play all day in Swansea bay today.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A bright, bright, Easter Monday. A sparkling bay, holiday time rushing by …<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Out from the train station colours and cultures explode Mingling together on the pedestrian-filled roads<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Out from the train station colours and cultures explode Mingling together on the pedestrian-filled roads<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My regular vendor of The Big Issue magazine Smiles as though forgetting the hardship he’s seen<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We chat for a while then I go on my way Both of us bidding the other a good day<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shops of all shapes beckon with open doors Today, though, I pass; I’m headed for the shore<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The streets curve and explore, long and wide Somehow not diminishing the immenseness of the sky<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Birds soar and wheel overhead; the sound of seagulls enthrals me As I continue on my path the swooshing of the sea calls to me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I pass beyond the city centre, emerge onto the docks Away from the city-dwellers and tourist flocks<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I follow the docks round, admiring the boats It’s still a wonder to me how such bulky bodies stay afloat<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As a writer I’m entranced by the little ships’ names Seren-Y-Mor to Black Beauty – no two are the same<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The path carries names too; I wonder to whom they belong A Harry Potter quote makes me smile; the magic’s still strong<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I cross a bridge, round a building and through a gap in the railings And there I am; there’s the beach; far out ships are sailing<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shoes and socks off; my feet want to breathe Bare feet and a top hat; don’t care how I’m perceived<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I slide down onto the beach, glad I didn’t fall Run across the sand, absorbing it all<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nature is multi-sensory; the sand between my toes Is as rough as bark and as soft as a rose<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I let myself wander; oh how I long to feel free The adventures I’d have; the places I’d see<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I wonder for miles as the tide peacefully recedes Strolling far from civilisation, only nature’s call do I heed<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As my feet leave the humans my imagination takes flight Here are the unboundaries I yearn for day and night<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Eventually I have to turn back; I’ve places to be But I know I’ll return; this beach hasn’t seen the last of me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As I head back from the horizon I pause to scrawl a few lines On the canvas of life the ramblings of a philosophical weirdo’s mind<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I make it to the steps, brush my feet off and redress From here my words are illegible, a deep and meaningful mess<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I make my eternal promise to travel someday then return to the city Unable to see even derelict building sites as anything less than pretty<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This city makes me smile, with its colour and multi-culture And seagulls eyeing sandwich crusts like packs of ravenous vultures<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Buskers fill my meandering with music, make my day just that much brighter Every time i come here my wallet mysteriously gets lighter<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Over there I once joined a protest – there, by the big screen Wearing my pride flag as a cape and wanting to be seen<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I may be young and trans* and lonely but Swansea keeps me going strong The colour, vibrancy and and variety make me feel like i might belong<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And so, as I turn away, it is with the utmost resignation I appreciate everything as I trudge back to the station<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Big Issue guy is gone but I expect I’ll see him tomorrow Wearing the same red waistcoat and a smile, without a hint of pain or sorrow<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I cast a last look round then head to meet my train Already the high that Swansea brings is beginning to feel strained<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As the train pulls away I think about living here In Swansea, that is – on the train would be a bit queer<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mostly I long to travel, but if i couldn’t Swansea would suit me Colourful and interesting and as vibrant as a city can be<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But what I love the most about Swansea is still remarkable to me Swansea gives me a feeling of almost being free<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As a thousand persons catch my eyes, I sketch in my book those who appear out of silence, racket, quirk and circumstance with bliss<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

12 colours turn into dozens in the water by the indigo of the sky, the memories of those moments in time are forever captured and displayed.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It has lovely beaches where we can swim and play The ice creams are delicious,it really makes my day<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I wish that there was more to do in this waterfront museum.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

education is key to people like me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

swansea is amazing swansea is cool.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I played cricket at the beach yesterday<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

fun with my friends<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

here I float on my ice floe boat<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We rock at the Waterfont<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

‘phorescent green gloaming dawn’s druzzle ruddy gorged tulip glandes burst seedless dribble damp petal to sweet humus oh, fecund spring<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the heavy ships rock in the calm swansea bay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the peaks are a beautiful blue<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

forever changing, evolving<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

growing ever stronger<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

roses are red,violets are blue,we are so lucky that we know you!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art is POWER!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art is empowering !!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Every inch a glory of Florence, Disrobed and standing on a plinth, Burnt willow scratches likeness onto paper. Where is Mathew now?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Amongst the bustle of portfolios, in anonymous faded blue jeans and T-shirt. He collected his payment and left Swansea Institute for Greece<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From the north to the south,old to young,we celebrate the joyful words of poetry, Proudly written and read,in honour of the best<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

thoughtfulness of Susie’s ankle reminded me of the Heather on our shoe strings attached for-evz – in the digital age<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And the rain never stops pounding down into the hole in my boot leaving me damp and sad<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and with that ring she knew that she had found her space in time. her song become sweeter than the dew on her brow. love was amongst them.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea…sunkissed…windswept arena of saltinesss…ever altering an ugly ,lovely mixtureof all things special<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

moving forward together getting stronger together<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

this great museum like a big colusseum.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

seeing the sea allows deep, calming breaths and an instant feeling of well being<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Calcium Cones tumbled and turned, By a Gower sea tide across a wide bay, Look and learn of the ocean’s means.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sastrugied sands washed by a millennium of tides, As time passes we understand less and less, of the colours and rhythm of times passing!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

daizy the doggy looks like a logy and she is one too<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dizzy Daizy, a doggy that’s lazy lolls around in shiny coat shapooed by salty waves<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

AROUND MY CITY, AROUND MY CITY, COME ON DYLAN FINISH MY DITTY!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We are down the Marina, ;’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Drenched in Sun, if only a day Wrenching fun for the holiday, Alan Y mor, the town does lay, With boats in harbour by the bay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Entwining threads of my mind enclosed in twine of distorted cord. Forward I thrust and must survive and shine my warmth and love.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

in wales we see the bright yellow daffodils in wales we here the wind howling<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And here we are father in tow, he’s had a great time- I just know, I can see him across the way, he has definitely had a happy birthday<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Drops streaming, distan tears await homecoming. She is ready to breath again, toffee melting on continental shores. Birds of paradise await<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like wales because of the bright blue sea in the beach i like wales because of the colourfull flowers<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like Wales because its colourful, i like Wales because its got nice sights,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like Wales because its got nice places, i like Wales because its got museums,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sea of brainwaves here and now<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i love guinea pigs<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

monday morning and the sun is shinning over swansea.April and spring time<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Half term finished Museum echoes quiet Cool interior breezes Open space is light<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I return but briefly Too many thoughts return to me More than I can see In this old city: More than I hope In a day to cope<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or to fight Throughout the night<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or to fight with myself who has been anchored here in bricks and stone from which on wings I fly sometimes away<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Inevitably to return I have made this place my home<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I wish I had the time to be a poet, Poop, sick farts and burps now a mum to twins and don’t I know it<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Delete redundant dialogue, Integrate information, Omit unnecessary words, Granma suits me fine.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wysiwyg<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wysiwyg, is that a welsh word, if not it should be.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sent Tawe Mega Poem link to Taff To give him food for thought, And to get him to write one So come on Taff – we’re waiting \ud83d\ude42<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Walking down High Street fills her with dread She aspires to Cath Kidston, but, She’s more suited to Greggs.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

With Channel knock offs in handbag, Corned beef pasty in hand, And a bright pink daisy on her Alice band.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’m coming home, back to where I belong the waiting game begins waiting waiting<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When I was down in Pembroke I met a girl, pretty in her summer dress That one day she would be my wife I little then did guess<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Now sixty years have passed Our family has grown Now to a great-grandchild at last Be careful down in Pembroke<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where meetings to far things lead Be careful down in Pembroke Just mark my words and Heed!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Self proclaimed identity, is not my intention. Carefully constructed lines, pour from creative consciousness. Words marked and heeded.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They are what they are, only temporarily mine, words owned by all.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Irresistible urges bring symbols to page, = ? \uf04a ! \uf04c * \uf04a :-} } } } }. . .<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Signs and signifiers flow, From psyche, to consciousness, out via the pen.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If you fail to understand, success is brought. In your grasping of intent, achievement is gained.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Words are my wall, climb over if you can, You are more than welcome. = ? \uf04a ! \uf04c * \uf04a :-} } } } }. . .<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Maybe they do, whatever you choose… = ? \uf04a ! \uf04c * \uf04a :-} } } } }. . .<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Housing greatness for my teenage years The city rousing in me dreams of future Facilitating needed growth Not, however, being life’s hope<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

you can defend the world for justice with the truth,but if the truth is not true war will commence<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It is the sea the rolling strolling foam backed whirls of winter water. It holds the key<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

With its low melodious discords And its wild percussion Rising to tumultuous climax And dying into tranquility<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gillian, Eleanor and Justine, 3, are about to embark on a hunt for tea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the tea was found very profound, now its time for cakes and all manner of other lovely bakes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

spring flowers awash with pale contrasting rich, ornate green, waiting for summer’s golden hues, filtering through the woodland’s trees.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

THE MINER\u2019s TEAR With a blackened finger he points and fears This terrible day of four hundred tear\u2019s Young mothers, wives and brides to be<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who will they bring from this hell? Deeper than the drinking well. Young David? Just a boy you know! Or old man Bryn with son in tow?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A massive blast a wind that burns With all their heart they run and turn. The smell of gas came much too late That spark of light that seale<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The men and boys of the colliery No more nights of life to see Now laying cold in a saddened grave For our comfort their lives they gave<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We will not forget you Brave men of coal Risking your life in that deepest hole You will always be here in our dreams ,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Risking it all on Welsh coal seams.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

While high above I sit now on warm stone smooth and sculpted by wind, water and time the same water that traces paths<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Down through the hills, and down still further into the workings beneath<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea is great.Swansea is wonderful.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I for one like Swansea how it is:)<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And then, as if by magic, a giant pig faced octopus appeared<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Deeper still down in the mines miners mine down down down till it is dark.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And gloomy too.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But we come back up, into the light, into the air above Here the water still falls, rushing down in streaks and silver trails<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

over black rocks and green hills past grey walls and glass through brick and stone and out again into the sea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

from water we come and to water we will return. 90% of out bodies, the land and the sea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In the slippered hush of night, the dancing stars will light the bay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And we will dance with them.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

love is the only guide listen with your heart as it whispers to you<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Love is where its at<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Take caution in the sorrowful loves of others,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The wind filled the sails and blew the small yacht across the dancing waves while the dolphins played around its bows.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like the flag because the colour<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

hi<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

hergifihfh<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

llkkjjnkjbghff<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i saw the life burning like fire orange and red steaming colours hot and fiering burning flames fires flames schorching hot hot hot hot<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the sky was crimson orange and blue<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and the visitors came to Swansea, to see Wales and its wandering, winking, wondering and wonderful sights, sighs and sounds. And some stayed<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And some left. Yet it is still here, with its sea and its people. Long ago it was home and home is still in its people, its mountains<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and its valleys.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

gazing out at the deep blue sea of Swansea Bay forever changing but still the same.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

At night, the lights of ships from foreign lands, flicker sleepily at the edge of silent, velvet black, Swansea bay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

tomorrow the sailors will explore this city and take away a piece of it in their hearts, a need in them always to return<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the swansea valley looks so neat, but even more when its complete<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

we walked around here with our feet,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and gazed before us at this amazing feat<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

For it is an amazing area with so much to see, the flora and fauna, the cliffs and the sea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

where else in the world you rather be, than here in the heart of good old Swansea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Watching groaning, grinding, mechanical monsters, gnashing their teeth, spitting out bricks<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

childhood and age collide, blood ties run deep. Memories stir and crystalise,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I do not feast from societies silver spoon, those that have truly found bliss via the sun, sky, stars, sea and moon.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The skies are grey and heavy with rain<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It should be renamed Thomas Town, With a poem placed on each street, Where people can read and enjoy and talk about them when they meet.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What an intriguing idea. A town of poets in a country of poets of rhyme and metre would we become- All know its? Ahh the Welsh blood sings<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I might have not been born at all be this wind that keeps you company this corner of the sky that you observe<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

weary of the earth’s hypocrisies before you travel on again towards the horizon that calls out your name<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

#NAME?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Haiku Cymraes counting out her syllables hand under chin<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wales, Wales, the country of dragons, With drums for coal that look like wagons,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If watching rugby they always win, Because they sing and it makes them grin.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Coal, copper smelting, industrial history past, Looking forward, with vision, imagination vast<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

buzzards and kites soaring and whirling.. smoke from cottage chimneys comes curling….<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My Dad, always a collar and tie ,always did his duty, provided for us, loved us as we loved him.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The girls of Swansea Bay are are pretty as the live long day<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I wish had more brains Instead of head full of poop. Coz if I did I be inclined to start a Facebook Swansea Moaners Poetry Group.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sitting in the dock of the bay overlooking my life<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This water contains special powers from Swans who have swum in it. It was supercharged during 2014 & brought to you by Agua Jacks<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Laddered legs mind ramble There you are, fierce in that fashion store, holey tighted fellow shopper. Why are you so holey?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My bored bargain hunter mind drifts with the possibilities. You have bussed it into swansea centre this rainy morning. Umbrella in lap<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

as you stare mindlessly out of the window, its spokes scratching across your lap as you approach your bus stop destination. Oh well.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or it\u2019s a fashion statement that I have yet to recognise as it hasn\u2019t yet appeared on south wales eve post womens style page<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You found out about this fashion via a cool teenage blogger from New York.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You welcome bringing this off the wall, up to the minute mode to me and all that view you in Swansea \u2018s Oxford street.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or it\u2019s a badge of honour from your welcome tussle this morning with your lust soaked lover?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Could it be HE, with his calloused cement mixer hands pulling at your amorous thighs that unravelled your denier<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or is it SHE that is your lover? the talon nailed top shop assistant with bee hive and kohl-ed eyes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And your ladders are a proud love bite from your lesbian passion this morning.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Or are they old tights thrown on and worn with a middle finger to their battered nature<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As you determinedly wear those shorts you had set aside last night to wear this day for this Swansea shopping trip<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If this ladder is not a result of a welcome tussle or trend or self confidence, you would have swiftly binned them and wore something else<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

These laddered leg tights, my ramble concludes you wear them well. Swansea salutes you!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

missing my friend who watched over the bay the old iron slip bridge grieving for his home<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Fisherman with lantern and rope Scanning the horizon for hope<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What passes this time what remains is memories. Memories when recall become strong Memories which are unpleasant when recall<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They not only become strong, but take you’re life to catastophe memories which are pleasant when recall they not only become strong<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

but give you a purpose to live forever<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

not only a clown with out make up but a staunch man of the sea always laughing in danger for he brings fish to me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Welsh horns sound mirroring the Walian hills, rugged yet beautiful<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

all the men on the hills cheeky but somehow truthful<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Spiderman is really cool because he is a super hero!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Life has many shadows but the sunshine makes them all, this echo sounding in my heart finds hope with each new fall;<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If a gift is freely given with true kindness from the start, It matters not if it’s accepted, but that the thought is from the heart.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

swansea swansea rain oh rain swansea swansea have a fun game?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

an endless dream of life and laughter todays sorrows tomorrows ever after<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

lots of talent but mainly at singing and pineapples who eat pears<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

swansea’s heart’s dance like graceful swans but when the rain comes they remain strong swansea is a place of joy of laughter fun and joy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

steve the banana went out with penelope the apple MEMO; NEVER TUST APPLES IN RELASIONSHIPS<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

im serious<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the colourful beach is so blue<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Surrealism is obviously alive and well in modern Swansea – Dylan would be so proud of us now in all our lovely craziness \ud83d\ude42<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It’s May and I go to Clyne Gardens to hear the band play. What do you know – the generator’s not working, so no concert – well done Swansea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It’s June and I go to Singleton park to watch the gay boys play. What do you know – there’s a Lady Gaga tribute act – well done Swansea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

yes we may live in an ugly town yet look around at our lovely parks lovely coastline<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We will all good gently into the Bible black night. The waves crashing around us; the shale of the sand blowing gently about our feet. MEM<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art may just be a picture but it makes our town beautiful. Shauna A’Hearne<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From Australia I came to this beautiful land Where handsome welsh dragons are always at hand<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

theres frost in the air and snow on the land but a warm welcome awaits and a pint in my hand !<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

as there is a print in my hand a tiger comes towards me i start to sssssscccccrrrrrrreeeeeaaaaammmmmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art is a piece of work that you love till the day you die and it is poetry of amazment<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

friends are also poetry my friends have stuck by me thick and thin and they will always be there for me:) :*:D<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Family is also art they are always there and they always care.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This museum is amazing I love the sport exhibit !<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The red coated lady sits on the steps staring across the bay drinking her latte pining for her lover so near yet so far away<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Eager city forging ahead, never sleeps, not going to bed, Change with time, stay lively and bright, I love Swansea both day and night.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This poem aint La Boheme But to be terse it’s my verse It’s fine coz it’s mine!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

For the Locws lovelies You solicit words and explain art Volunteers with noble souls and heart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

beans beans are good for your heart the more you eat the more you fart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

painting paintings look what they are when your passing in the car<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More Poetry Is Needed (response) Life is meant to be lived, not to be read.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Poems poems you know what they are Sometimes you hear them in the car.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

poems catching you’r eye while you’r going by<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You need to listen and agree, its higher than a tree.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More poetry more fun, if you want to be a number one.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More poetry is needed, its there in black and white, will anyone listen, do I need to bring up a fight?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

poetry can be heard in song it dosent have to be boaring and long<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I live in a house, I don’t have a mouse, But lots of cats, And I hate RATS!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I don’t know why, But I’m going to fly, In my kite, That is white.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Its in town, come down and see is you agree with me \ud83d\ude42 (Abigael)<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

No poetry is needed that wall is a lie life is colourful not black and white<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

why is poetry real it is boring<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Yesterday is History, Tomorrow is a Mystery, And today’s a gift… that’s why they call it the Present!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

when life gives you lemons, make orange juice and leave the world wondering how you did it!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

dont eat yellow snow<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

believe, i know it sounds like a cat poster but its true<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

life is like a camera focus on whats right capture the good times and delete the negative<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

MEGA poem MEGA poem what could it be? MEGA poem MEGA poem it must be something special for YOU and ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Roses are red violets are blue you’re the best teacher I love U!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Roses are red skies are blue i have a best friend it is you !!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Is yesterday, tomorrow today?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everybody relies on somebody for something, so please be nice<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art art makes me powerful what about you<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ART makes friends become closer together<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

we need more colour throughout life<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The art that we saw it was the best<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Jaggy man in his Jaguar Shoes, Saxophone swinging with the blues,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Singing songs all day We’ll always be champions And will beat Cardiff Never be losers Shelvey’s always on top Every 1 has fun Always welcome<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea is beautiful Waterfront Museum Abertawe is Welsh for Swansea Not always sunny Swansea’s sights Exotic Plantasia And lush beaches!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyday we come and go, But if you come to Swansea, It will lift you up when you feel low.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Come and relax, Visit the Waterfront Museum and maybe u will find an axe, Take a stroll down the marina & then you can control your cleaner!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

feet ache but want to see all of swansea because its exciting and interesting were on a short break we need more time – so we’ll come again<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and make the next verse rhyme<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art is an amazing thing It could be plain or it could have some bling! Art could have pictures or words It could have fish or maybe birds.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mae rhai yn drist Ac mae rhai sy’n rhoi gwen o glust i glust.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Barddoniaeth – mae rhaid cael mwy ohono Mae angen lle i farddoniaeth, ond ble?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Lliwiau amryliw i gelf i gyd Mae pawb yn hoffi celf o hyd.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mae’r byd yn lliwgar ond ydy e’n mynd i … barhau?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Lluniau lliwgar fel yr enfys Geiriau gwyn ar gefndir du.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art makes children happy Art is colourful and makes people interested.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art is amazing, art is nice, Make it from anything – from clay to ice.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Art: Why? Need we ask why? Or isits purpose to make us ask why? Why do we ask why? Why not just: Art?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

because i makes kids good<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Why just Art: Consider Poetry<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Poetry is art.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

mae cymraeg yn neis<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art and poetry make the world a happier place.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a poetry and art make people smile.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like wiled animals<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Poems make us happy!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sunshine makes me smie<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sunshine makes me happy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sunshine makes me smile<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyone is an inspiration to someone<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

lol is a happy word<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

there once was a man from Swansea Who was a bit of a pansy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He liked to eat cheese, and feel the sea breeze, as he strolled around town in his onesie<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The old cars and horses outside are creating a beautiful view outside the museum on this sunny sunny day,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Horses, buses and cars what about clubs, pubs and bars?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

That Dylan Thomas dude<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

‘DYLAN’S TOWNIE’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I come from that city of Swansea Founded on copper and coal, Where the grafters get on the council, And the dreamers stay on the dole.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

as there are no more jobs where you can work with coal<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Love must have credit, despite its means; Passions despise to bank and character. Charity doles not in public scenes;<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tenderness designsnot to barter. Viv Griffiths<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art across my city public art raising questions, aspirations and spirit confirming more poetry is needed. by us all. for us all.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

six pieces for Dylan’s praise sited here in this city by Locws. Heads and voices, colour, dialogue and form. Inspiring Jack public today.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To the ocean of leaves Where you can hear the sound whale song echoing on the edge of a breeze<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Topography town up down hills all around The straights are narrow the heights heady Houses like limpets cling to inclines cluster on cliffs<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I come from the city of Swansea Built by the sailor and smith. Where the fables are woven to fashions, For behind every fable’s a wish.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Viv Griffiths<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

people know what they mean<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

all you have to do is let your imagination flow<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

one day there lived a boy called jimmy he wanted to become a artist<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

art is magical like you<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

poetry is not a hobby it’s a felling!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

dylan thomas was the person who inspierd me with art ?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

So to the land of No Good Boyo we have come<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

beginnings buried by the silt of ages where once the red deer ran<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And mediocre medicine was metered out to The masses as they trooped through the maze.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like this museum because it the best museum by owain harris<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Fire Is Hot Ice Is Cold I Didnt See Anything Before<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where ever you go You’ll be sure to know That I am always with you<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

of rules and desks, of forms and functionaries, until and at last someone said, Can i help you? Whats wrong?’ and i can explain the bleedin<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

g hand and torn face of the screaming baby—– its a dog, i said<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

come swim in the bay walk into the sea and lie under cobalt blue sky summer sun heights marine diamond lights heaven is underneath us<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

lie and watch the paddle board go by oar dip board slip along the flat calm coast a day like this may not come again<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sea is flat calm, a flat calm sea body, sun and water, water and sun away from the shore away from the beach, out of reach<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Look from afar the sand shore Langland lovelies bikini clad laid out in rows tanned and glossy waiting to be appreciated<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

surfers l unwind their surfless energy watch and appreciate<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

for inspiration for the soldiers who fought for us and died for us hope you succeed in the next war<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mumbles shelters under the Nab As morning light reveals the pueblo blanco There for the tourist taking<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wind dervishes across the town Stinging, singing, free to slap Knock down, clog up and frisk. The Welsh Dragon will rise again.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gentle falling rain drifting Over rooftops on westerly breezes Gulls squawk –<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Diving over waves that lap the shore Of Swansea Bay Swooping toward Mumbles Head<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where they rest their weary wings<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Laverbread black nights warm the cockles of my heart in the ugly, lovely town of Swansea as I look for Dylan’s footsteps and find my own…<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

love this place, the life but the seagulls are viscous at times<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

stealing are chips<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

although there are some rainy times, tomorrow may be sunny<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and tomorrow I will be on holiday with my mummy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tonight is the last game in Britain for Jonny!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bale will get the winner for Real tonight!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And you might even bite<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

as it comes towards you with its razor sharp teeth you make a dive to underneath<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You crouch down low to keep real safe You breathe in really deeply, you look like a waif.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I love your eyes, when the midnight is coming.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the fairies awake to touch the skin that hides beneath your very soul<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and words and music fill the air with all the joy we all will share<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and your eyes are bright,in the morning light.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trenches of pillows, butterfly wire Riotous colours and textures inspire<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Friar, liar, cryer, flyer. Words all rhyming, tomato!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In the dark dark night i had a terrible fright!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

asdfhjkl;’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When I close my eyes, I see your eyes …..<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a big art workshop on the old station site set Danylo’s artistic endeavours alight his contribution , a cross, attached to the banner<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the concentration tongue, his 5 year old’s manner the call for more art needed through fun, his creativity heeded<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the smiles, the glitter, the glue, the paint the children’s beauty no need for restraint<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

that museum workshop just an hour spent his fingers in paint pots his patterns well meant<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Don’t touch the art! let the art touch you don t move the exhibit! let the exhibit move you its so tempting to get hold of it<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

its because the art has got hold of you! will you ever possess the art? or will the invigilators continue to tease. Art makes YOU powerful<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I was dropped here like it or not, now I love it more and more<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I moved around but stayed here<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

am i real or make believe<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

OMG Chloe they made monsters!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Can I do another one? No. Can I do one for my Brother? No. Can I do one for my Granddad? No. He said I have to. No.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Can my Brother do one himself? Yes.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

no no no<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the chicken was to spicy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And the Pie was too yuck The Soup was too warm The Ice Cream is melting The Cookie is crumbling The Bagel is hard But the food was too yum<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Food poem made by Daniel Rhys Thomas<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Baby playing, mother tending. Activity everywhere, sun-baked and loving. Shoeless feet striding in time, Is anyone going anywhere?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

it is 3:10 and the sun is shining. what a beautiful day. A quiet hall, green grass, a happy baby – all at last.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the time has come the end of the day time to go on our way<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I don\u2019t own this land, I possess it. Or rather, it possesses me. For everything I see, I touch and feel for Wales is the very heart of me.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I can take my time, to think about my rhime; sitting on my chair, fiddling with my hair.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’m in Swansea, staying with Nan. She’s brought me here for the very first time. I’m finding out all I can, about this city in it’s prime.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Libby Rowe, Telford<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

climbed the tower sea gives it power.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Grace<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyone is in a rush to get there, but no one knows where they are going<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Liam W<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Outside is where I love to be, And I like to climb a tree.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My sister likes lego, and on her roller blades she likes to go go go!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Last day of volunteer sentry Guarding the art Explaining he exhibits around the city, I’ve done my part<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Fun it’s been I’ve had a ball, Wandering miles in the main hall.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We’ve come from Aldridge to see The fun of Swansea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My name is Emily Pearl I have come to the museum to learn.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

GR4B 6NV5YV<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the maritime museum is lots of fun especially for kids and relaxing for mum i enjoyed the spaciousness the friendly staff and their gracious<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

soft is the heart that does not know loneliness<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I remember Swansea fifty years ago and more when the Mumbles train went along the bay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

drifting and hugging the coast past ancient memories in black and white of boys with toffeed apples and sticky sweet candy floss dreams<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Thomas T<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I just had a pancake<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It was tasty<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

curse u perry the platapus<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

wolly<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Perry waz ere 2014<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I just went swimming and my brother just went climbing<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

cats go meow dogs go woof but what animal makes the sound on the roof?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

spectral wishes, rainbows of the afterlife.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like money cose gohn is funny xxxx<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i love ART cos im creeativ lol<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea, Swansea, you called me back, to trees made of gems, welsh cakes and laver bread, It’s been 28 years – too long!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

cows go moo when they poo<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

noob by Anselm<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Knock Knock<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who’s there?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

staying out of the rain in the museum it’s knowledge we gain<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

twirl and dance like floating fairys<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

prance like cows in the diary<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

boats outside gently rocking like a baby’s cradle<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sleeping slowly like a bear in the air<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sparkling stars above me high<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

stomp stomp clap clap pat pat jump jump. knock knock who’s there?stomp stomp clap clap pat pat jump jump ha ha!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

laughing and shining just like we were a star, we are young and free, dancing in the harbour breeze<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

watching the ships go by, we fell our ease! Hey wait where’s my ice-cream!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I lol have lol a lol really lol bad lol nervous lol laugh lol lol lol.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ice-cream sundae eaten on a monday in harlibam park with cows in the dark<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

strolling the town with no certain frown while watching the day fly away.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

my dads playing golf in the park while my brothers playing footie with a basking shark<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i ran through the forest, i dodged oak trees, and i screamed through the pines, ‘Its the Beast of Bonymaen!’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i ran through the forest, i dodged oak trees, and i screamed through the pines, ‘Its the Beast of Bonymaen!’<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

‘The World’ This world that we all live on is a garden out in space, and island in a desert that protects the human race.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We never take much notice of the animals or plants, were they put here for a reason? was it fate or merely chance?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

so many questions to be asked about this world of ours, but must we never make mistakes we have it in our power.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But look at what we have, our mountains far and wide, the vastness of our oceans can swallow a mans pride.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Was it a miracle or a privilege from birth, that the greatest gift set down to man, was to walk upon this earth. Russell Morgan<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I wake up in the morning on the sea front i didn’ know how i was there the sun set woke me up because i seen beautify colours with my friend<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

by Georgia Miggins and my best friend Nicole Myers<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Creation stood in judgment;the day had really come,when man takes up the stand to ask please lord what have I done.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

God looked down on the world he made with his own tender hands and then placed his eyes upon his one creation he called man.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My son he said to him in one almighty voice. This world that I created was for you and out of choice.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But in creating everything in you I left a flaw, the secrets that you learn in life are yours forever more.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The master of all animals I placed upon this earth you hunt and slaughter other life its been your flaw from birth.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The ocean,s and the mountain,s I carved with my own hands the garden you call eden it was this very land.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This land that I created a garden made for you with animals that roam here you must protect them too.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A gift that you were given to learn to love each day, not to destroy or desicrate or merely throw away.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Man bowed in shame and pleaded please god give me one more chance this world that you created I will cherish and enhance.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It is as you have told me a gift from up above so let me prove my worth to you and cherish it with love.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

God in all his wisdom gave judgment on that day,he thought of man in all his worth and what he had to say.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He placed his hands upon the earth and created it again when it was young and innocent and free from hurt and pain.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

God turned to man and said to him in one almighty voice. You are the one thing I won,t change for I have made my choice.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Remember what has happend here do not tempt me again and make this world a better place thats free from hurt and pain.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They flew across the sky In terror people would be When the machine went high<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It time to show how important poetry is It is Dylan Thomas is art How wrote the amazing under milk wood Which is in our heart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Write a poem It’s fun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Write a poem about anything it doesn’t have to rhyme, Can be about anything or something, doesn’t need to rhyme like mine.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Memory is without sound a dumb deceit a wingless beat seeking no permission getting none this airless haulage comes, repeats<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the faded conversation and what is passed goes on \u2018til we are found amongst time\u2019s wreckage its mute remains possess us like a sleep.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

\u2026 and at Swansea sands, the sea’s lace dresses the beach<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Across the backbone of this land, this rock, the stanza stones link. They look out on the moors upon the weathered brink.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Silver-ribboned rivers cut swathes through ancient gnarls of rock, undeterred, determined. Mumbling age-old secrets to burnished banks.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To the sea, to the sea and far beyond, its influence unbounded, its fate unfounded.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seagull of Swansea bold are they, Cheeky and family orientated,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nesting in my chimney, Calling their aunties and uncles back to their nesting place.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bye The See Swansy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

She’s dead two minutes from now, Grumble grumble, I was early, She’s applying for a job.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea. The Vetch, means something to all who live around it. And those in the suburbs. Football, fun, green space in the city.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A place to come together and share ideas and our culture with friends.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gower. Stood up high above Langland looking down the miles of coast beyond.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Breathing in the salty fresh sea air and feeling the breeze on my face and through my hair.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Watching the mosaic of mirrors bobbing on the waves. D’win hapus iawn.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Brassy murmerings amongst the grassy ornings, Will this rainbow day keep our families away? Lets paint and draw and write today.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

City from the sea, land sand born together, to build a city to make a town, many people in a town just look at the face of swansea town.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We will tip toe down to the butterfly ball, Dressed to kill for Dylan’s gold dust, Hoping for a sprinkling of fairy dust,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To polish up our act, Could we live our life this way, Or shy, never express ourselves to the hilt, Never at a drunken tilt.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Summer Fete, in the park, a sunny day, by the sea, fun and activities for everyone.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyone except the inmates of the prison, But at least they can hear the music and laughter.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ve made some painting too, Having fun in the sun, At Sandfields Summer Fair.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea Swansea, – Home of the brave. Swansea Swansea, – Where I was born and raised.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea Swansea, – I laughed and played. Swansea Swansea, – Is where my heart is tamed.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’m going in a minute because I can’t stand the noise, the sunshine, the heat.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Onto my bike and away from this place, to the fresh air of the sea – if only I could get in it,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

escape my worries, relax in the cool, to return to my friends, my family.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seeds scattered from afar, take root between the city and the sea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A garden blooms.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And wildflowers dance together to a thousand different tunes.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A wise old owl, once sat in a tree, The more he heard, the less he spoke,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The more he spoke, the less he heard, Let us listen to that wise old bird.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who needs a play area, when.. You’ve got a hill you can run down, and up.. Again and again.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sunny Sandfields fun at the vetch, Bouncing, sliding, smiles for miles, Painting fun, football and the coconut shy, Got to go home now..Why?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A whipping orange unicorn, Whipping a salamander with his tail, And the salamander is whipping back, They just don’t like one another.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A very symmetrical mountain, Over the bridge, I couldn’t tell you the price.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sun of wind, Brother of rain, Daughters clouds, Float by without care, On a summer day, Without a care, Without a crown.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The mumbles from Mumbles echo across the bay, As out hymns and arias carry the Swans all the way.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Swans they sing, they sing their song, the song is sweet, the song is long, but no one listens, as the Swans sing their song.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From Garnswilt to Felindre, there is so much to see, from robins to skylarks, and down to the sea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The ground may be poor, on the top of Graig Fawr, but the landscape is heavenly right down to the Gower.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If this poem was train tracks, around the world it would lay, it would link all the countries, it could go all the way!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Green leaves have started to turn, the trees breathe a sigh of relief, with every breath a few more drop, autumn is coming.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Stately blades slicing the air, power stolen from the wind, the silence of the hills envelopes us, save for an alarm unheard due to limit us<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sands with many secrets untold, sands with timeless stories unfold, shared histories, new beginnings<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Together the sun is nice and bright, together we have plenty of light, together this should be, a wondrous day to see<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Friends joined together, to enjoy such weather<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This day will be so good, Even if we chop up wood, Together here we stay, All to have a beautiful day.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You can spend your whole life looking, At hills you’ll never climb, Valleys forever hidden, Adventures never taken<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Carpe diem, Take the dappled path<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Lucky to have the long warm summer weather, Friends and family flock together, Like birds of a feather.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I love to be by the sea, But the Mumbles is too busy for me, Should I move to the city or countryside, and say goodbye to the tide.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The man and the spider had a spider house, The seahorse and the cloud had a cloud house<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The man loves the watering can, The crown had a big pink house.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It’s cool in the school, Playing with owl’s poo and other things to do!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A poem, a few words, A special place with lots of birds, Swallows on their way to do their thing, Africa here they come.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Scampering ewes punctuate the bracken laced commons, Elegant wind mills, Spin like dancing feathers in the crisp morning breeze.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The bounty of nature made better by a sunny day, Hills and valleys lead down to the sandy Swansea bay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nature cradles mankind, In it’s generous hands, We must protect these beautiful lands, So full of wonder<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Through sun and thunder, But of course after us, Indeed it still stands<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dragons caverns enrich our lands, Ancient crafts by young Welsh hands,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seaweed whispers in mermaids ears, Glorious views, fields, hills and sands.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wakey wakey, Rise and shine! it’s time to get up and make some rhymes!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Indoors, outdoors, running around and round and round.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I know whatever I do I will do my best, But there comes a time in a mans life, Where a man must rest,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Some people call me Ron, Some people call me Jon, I’ve tried my best, but it’s time to rest!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Our pellets are not poo, It’s bits of their food that they cannot chew,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bones of mice or skulls of voles, Get caught up ‘cos they are eaten whole!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It’s beautifully sunny, It’s a wonderful day, This poem is humungous, I’d just like to say.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Leaves float in the air, Fish swim really fast, Bats fly in the sky, Dragons breathe fire.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Riding down the valley, To the wind swept beach, And foaming sea of Swansea bay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bazza has a camera, Rowan rolls the dice, The water can and mice took a picture.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Glorious vista, Industrious past, Hidden gems, Sharing interests, To a background of unknown beauty.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Colors thrown across the garden from the stained glass window in the hall, Think of change, monument, Where next will it go?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Clouds float in the storm, Bats float and flap, Sea- horses can swim up in the ocean, Ghosts can float too, Butterflies can fly.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Abundantly generous views, Filled with hollows and swooping swallows,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To inspire these lines of poetry, And sculpted willows as we gaze over the flowing hills.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swooping swallows darting into the blue, Arial acrobats against the clouds, Chasing excitedly, Drinking the heated air, Wishing for night.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seriously fast, scattering spiders, Curled up caterpillars quietly cooch.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sun shines on Sunday and the week ahead is fine, so why am I sad when life is just divine.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

With the sound of the trees, And the sound of the sea, I can smile and I’m happy to just be me.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My grumpy grandad is always in a huff, He huffs and puffs but always has a LAUGH! \ud83d\ude42<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Come see a tree in Swansea!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Holly went to the wood<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Once there was a scary Dragon.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I LOVE making sand castles!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gwennan lives with the fairies amongst the trees.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The bat and the rat playing in the woods and climbing the trees, They saw a ghost hiding in the tree,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The ghost said ‘do you want a bonfire in my house?’ They said ‘yes!’ and sang wonderful songs.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ve just heard a story from Wales, with enchanting fairy tales. There was a princess,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who could not rest, So the fairies protected her in a nest.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trees make us happy, We climb them, We swing on them, We eat their fruit, I eat a plum, It is yum in my tum!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Pieces of delight fall gently upwards, Leaves falling sound, Falling upward toward the light<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Down in the woods with the boys, Making a crash, Making a noise.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And in the tranquil, hidden valleys, Lie the highlands above the city springs, The water that gives the city life.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sunshine and the sound of children walking through the woods.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mindcraft tells you about stuff<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The capital of Figi is Suva.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trees waving in the wind saying hello.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Thunder storms flash and crash, Bash over trees, Max.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I am happy because I love the water and forrest. Miruha.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tree wood for shade, Drinking fizzy lemonade.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The leaves russell in the wind. Rhys.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Moss and damp, Time grows, Spaces and places, Memories in shadows, Shadows in memories.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Go, little lane, Across the courageous spaces.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I went to the wood with my hood.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Eating things, yum yum yum, Riglling inside my tum tum tum!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sound of the moving trees and the feel of the cool breeze. Holly and James.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Quiet chattering of children playing, The shrieks of laughter as waves crash onto the shore.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Turnips a dog who bounces like a frog!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seeds, trees, weeds, bee, Plant some seeds pollenated by the bees, we need the weeds shaded by the trees. Robyn.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The dragons breath reeks, Smell of villagers burning, Death has no voice with which to speak,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Heavy mist, Heavy hands, The bloody scale of justice poison tipped, Prayers of the helpless, Unheard on the wind, The dragons breath.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I was born in Gower, I’ve always lived in Gowerm I’ll never leave Gower,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It’s in my heart, It’s in my blood, It’s in my dreams, I’ll forever be a Gower girl.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Don’t despair, I’ll always be there.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Golden future days! Leaves falling! Trees loaded with fruits of the woods- lush!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dolphins, Dolphins swim as fast as a tiger, And they jump up and down like a kangaroo, They hunt really fast, They look like shadows.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Once there was a man, A wee wee man, Then his van crashed and the lightning crashed,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He wandered in the streets looking for something to eat. Once there was a man a poor poor man, Lying in the streets. By Pip.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Leaves everywhere waving at the sun. Elin.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Me, well you see. I like this tree, it’s full of glee. And it’s a mystery.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We have the noise of the leaves of the trees in the wood and the mushrooms stand still at their roots.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Photographs drying in the smoky dappled breeze.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And then I realized it was all a dream. Audrey.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A bat wearing a hat attacks a fat cat, milly is silly on the wily lands, pebbles meddles in the golden sands.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Mummy the mop.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nature never let’s you down.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Never give up. Find a way ‘cos thats what winners do.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A ghost found a key in the happy face of me. A cat kin fell off a cat kin tree.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The green is fee, The green us calm, The green breathe, The green is here.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Spiders, witches and bats, Ghosts, pumpkins and cats, You never knew what you will see, It’s a halloween mystery.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Butterfly. By Lydia.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A seal bobbing up and down in the wave.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Woof woof, Wow! what’s that? Meow! Oh no open the door! Aled, aged 2.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Fire gets higher in the wood.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Poetry is quiet time for a rhythm or 2!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The cat lounged in the patch of sunlight amongst the pear trees.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sun glistening through the lovely green leaves of the hazel tree.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Riding the ramps at Swansea Exist.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I weave willow in the woods to make a dream catcher!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Treading softly with tranquil purpose to know the peace that dwells within.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There was a girl with golden hair running on the beach in her underwear.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sound of the birds singing in the trees, The leaves are blowing in the breeze. What a wonderful world.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trees, trees, trees, Can we have some of that place.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sing with your heart.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The pitter patter of paws playing with autumn leaves.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There are trees, There are peoples, There are paths, There are ideas, Nothing escapes entropy.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As the wind blows through the old oak tree here, All I can think of are the good times when I was younger,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When there was no rain which was polluted with your smog.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And she wandered and wondered.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Le soleil brille, l’eau coule sous le pont, la mer exil sous les etoiles qui brille deus le moin<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If the page is a forest, The sunlight is a pen with flowing bright ink to paint a thought within, within the shade.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Eight firers through like lime green shot silk.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sky shines through the trees.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea simply makes us smile on sunny september days!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Look at the tree in the sea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As I stare up at this tree, I edge towards some poerty, Fail I might, we will see, Succeeding would bring me glee!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dress colors blue, pink orange.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And the sun was beating down on my love.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Pterodactyls once flew above the trees, They ate fish and three portions of greens.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Just breathe.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sitting quietly under the tree, Whispered words on the wings of a bee.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From a trickle to a flow is how the river goes.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In the wood, Tomos being good, As we sat amongst the trees, You never know how.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Babble and bubble through the riffles and the pools it flows.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Scotering and sweets are fun, fun, fun!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

How lucky are we to live in such a beautiful place?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Magical, mystical childhood memories erased!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The trees blow in the breeze and the bees buzz along happily.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As I play with my friends in the woods I listen to the world. I love playing with Holly!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Y los pajaros, Cantaron junto al mac.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But let’s hope the dog doesn’t get stuck in a bog.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The trees smile to themselves on a summers day.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The littering was frightening.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sunlight filtered down through the beach trees covering everything in natures patterns.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In the woods, Trotting along there comes a house that’s all lovely and good.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Flags waving gracefully in the wind.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Beautiful woods, Lovely walk, We had a great time, We are off now it’s five.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When the sky falls it turns into a ball.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Amazing feeling in the september sun, waves and woodland, wildlife, all glorious xx<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dancing waves and crashing seas, Swansea spreads it’s seeds with ease.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Salty sea, Sun, green leaves, fun, Held together in a valley wood so fair with love in the air.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

On our way to the round house, We stopped to write a verse and then we skipped on down the road and ready to reverse.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trees help us breath.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A whipping orange unicorn, Whipping a salamander with his tail, And the salamander is whipping back.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Who needs a play area, when, You’ve got a hill you can run down, and up, again and again.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Owl A wise old owl, once sat in a tree, The more he heard, the less he spoke,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The more he spoke, the less he heard, Let us listen to, that wise old bird.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seeds scattered From afar Take root Between the city And the sea A garden blooms And wildflowers dance together To a thousand Diferent tunes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’m going in a minute because I can’t stand the noise, the sunshine, the heat,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Onto my bike and away from this place, to the fresh air of the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If only I could get in it, escape my worries, relax in the cool,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To return to my friends, my family.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea, Swansea – Home of the brave, Swansea, Swansea – Where I was born and raised,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea, Swansea – I laughed and played, Swansea, Swansea – Is where my heart is tamed.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I’ve made some painting too, Having fun in the sun, At Sandfields summer fair.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Summer Fete, in the park, a sunny day, by the sea, fun and activities for everyone,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyone except the inmates of the prison, but at least they can hear the music and laughter.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We will tip toe down to the butterfly ball, Dressed to kill for Dylans gold dust, Hoping for a sprinkling of fairy dust,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

To polish up our act, Could we live our life to his life, Or shy, never express ourselves to the hilt, Never at a drunken tilt.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

City from the sea, Land sand born together, To build a city to make a town, Many people in a town, Just look at the face of Swansea town.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Brassy murmerings amongst the grassy ornings, Will this rainbow day keep our families away? Lets paint and draw and write today!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gower Stood up high above Langland looking down the miles of coast beyond.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Breathing in the salty fresh sea air and feeling the breeze on my face and through my hair.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Watching the mosaic of mirrors bobbing on the waves. D’win hapus iawn.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea. The Vetch, means something to all who live around it. And those in the suburbs. Football, fun, green space in the city.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A place to come together and share ideas and our culture with friends.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

She’s dead, Two minutes from now, Grumble, grumble, I was early, She’s applying for a job.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bye, The Sea, Swansea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seagull of Swansea, Bold are they, Cheeky and family orientated.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Nesting in my chimney, Calling their Aunties and Uncles, Back to their nesting places.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sunny Sandfields fun at the Vetch, Bouncing, sliding, smiles for miles.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Painting fun, football and the coconut shy, Got to go home now, why?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sun of wind Brother of rain Daughters clouds Float by without care On a summer day Without a care Without a crown.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A very symmetrical mountain over the bridge, I couldn’t tell you the price.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The forgiven sun, Speaks in sparks,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Across the clouded quilts, And down filled heads of us, its children.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everyone is smarter,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Than I am,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

But the truth will come out loud,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

One of these days.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

IZZY YOUNG<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Back in Swansea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The river that allows me to step in,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As many times I can afford when all I own is time,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Now enriched by the green fuse injection.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

MARIA LINDSTROM<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Ringed across the bay, In whirlpool clouds,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Shift and swirl, Twin towers of the steelworks,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A fairy palace at nightfall, Shoots sparks of fire,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Flumes to scare the moon, Beneath, the houses, hunched,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And scruffed, cling to, Streets slick with rain.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

BECKY LOWE<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The fabric of this town is in my DNA,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And my DNA is in the fabric of this town.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Go darkly into the words of the Baptist Bible black book. Retribution, hell fire and damnation awaits you,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The ‘vengeful God’ of the Old Testament…Repent! I, warrior of words reject the punishment,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Of eternal hell and lores, So, go peacefully into the world and sow seeds of happiness, love and generosity of spirit.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The olden glitter rage for sequin fans, Becomes a dull glimmer of former glory in recent times.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If rain,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Was legs,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They would,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Stamp on,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Your head and,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Walk away.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We were here long before the vikings and before Rome.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Thousands of years we have called this home.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In Newquay town where the sailors dwell,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Squats a road guards the red blood gates of hell,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where the women wail and children moan,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

For the men lost the the sea gods throne,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There the angels dance to the devils beat,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As the horsemen ride for widow street.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

MARK MONTINARO<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If words alone could exorcise,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What words would take away our pain,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Allowing us to believe again,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

That human creatures were special.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My children ran and hid in all the tiny spaces of Dylan’s park,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Now they are grown and far away,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And I am left behind with my dog,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My memories and echoes of Dylan.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I came from the east 38 years ago, The Welsh land was a feast I was treated to,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And I ate and I ate and could eat a lot more gratefully digesting visual bliss,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I absorb and love and throw it a kiss, Oh Wales I do love you so.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When I look at the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I feel free as can be,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When days are sunny,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And warm or bright and breezy,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The fresh air makes me sleepy,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Reminds me of my childhood days when I was happy.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Strolling through the shallow waters on the sandy shore,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Aware of the hidden pebbles, and shells, the cockles and mussels,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The black grime of laverbread taken to market,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Kardomah lunch smell permeating the air,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea smells and sounds of times gone by.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Man pulling a suitcase not going anywhere, Just up and down Mount Pleasant hill, Trawling searching through the bins of bedsit land.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Meridian Tower, standing high,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Ruler of the Swansea sky,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Both bold and beautiful in its ways,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Always leaves you in a faze,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Guards of both sea and land,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The Meridian tower, there it stands.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We the fashionably wild,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wear hats at home and kilts upon the plain,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

While hats tug and feathers ruffle to a refreshing run,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cross hatched lines sway ponderously to anothers gait.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The end of summer,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Going into the tunnel of Winter,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Like losing ones sight,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The pain of cold, skeleton fingers,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Hibernating prison,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It will end and begin.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The swift, willowing trickles of Autumn stretch the leaves of my thoughts,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As they empty out across the streets and seas of scenery,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Spraying my very spirit in unblemished joy, but not always.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In Cwmdonkin, I’m in step, With the child, And the man,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Seeing through, His Words, Our past, And present.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Over the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Over the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

All away from friends,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Over the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Over the sea,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It never ends.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

This morning I found a slow worm,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A slinky South Wales dragon,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I warmed him up in my lap,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And sent him on his way.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Becoming a fish in a fish empty sea, While imagining riding on Swansea’s white horses.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Plagiarised meta verbiage sequential normal verbiage,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Cockleless Swansea, Stolen automatic celebrity of pronoun,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In meaning here is chaos, the poets have copper plate tongues, and lines.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The words shift and shrink against the vastness of the channel, sand and sky.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The midnight sun is low over the horizon,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Viking trading post of deco buildings, Now born again from a copper egg And a poet’s bottle.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I feel so free when I walk by the sea of old Swansea town<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

With the sun, Swansea shines in my mind. But my heart is helpless in the heavy, wet wintertime.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The oyster as city, the mouth opens to reveal the pearl, salt on the tongue<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

leaves a dry hungry residue for Dylanspots, psychic geographising, a look for the sunspots or sodium tweets of an ancestral tongue’s trust.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Beauty looms around the corners of dead streets, Laughing at people for trying to impose structure, ‘The land belongs to me’ says the sea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Brutalist resistance. Civic decentering. Dunes of duality Shifting under tides of hope. High hope leaves a line Hope is far out today<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And even far out of the sea, you can sing about Swansea bay : It becomes an image with its light shining inside<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

far away from reality like false poetry when you become to dream instead of look at the secret beauty of the real world<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Unicorns pull art across the city for2015 Volunteers and artists help art to be seen Quadrant based questions what does this art mean<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Beauty in reality is always there The real question is actually where Dream to search and do not hide Love the world and enjoy the ride<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Beyond the tide my mind craves space The horizon cleans my eyes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

do you want to volunteer? around art? this year? come and join all of us who volunteer with Locws<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a new programme of public art is building to an April start volunteer recruitment underway apply to volunteer locally today<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a varied bunch of volunteers some artists and of all careers they like to chat with folks about the art across and throughout our city<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

my hand extends across this welsh land to offer love and friendship to all<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i know a horse who ate tomato sauce. He was Hungary so he went to a country, He liked to bookie, with his monkey hoobie.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My home town Abertawe How I miss you now I’ve gone A town of love and laughter Art, poetry and song<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I know one day I will return I can’t wait to come back Because wher’er I go or live I’ll always be a Jack…<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

What I just did was fun What I just did was creative Like I was in a world of my own My fingers just wanted to carry on.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Today is another day My feet hurt From walking. This chair is nice.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sun is warm in the sky, beating down on us, i wonder what it’s made of, probably a giant mini cheddar<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

ode to the original cheddar giving life to us and all whose warmth it touches thanks for everything being alive is great<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

spaghetti is yum it lives in my tum I sprinkled it in cheese so Finlay said please<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

there was a bug who dug and dug while eating a pot of gold. I said to him don’t make a dim unless you have something to say OK!!! Finlay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If I was a butterfly, I would stretch out my wings and fly way up high and travel across the sky until the end of the day drew nigh. Hx<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The sky is blue, the grass is green, just like a kidney bean<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Live life like theres no tommorow live life without sorrow<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

look to the future, and not to the past<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

live for yourself, and live it wild, and fast<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Move forward, never look back, because you only live once, and thats a fact<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Smiley faces is nice to see, and because it looks like me<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In memory of my dad. ” My dad was my star, he was a carpenter, he built many buildings in swansea, he was a true legend”<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Red is bright, blue is cool, now its time to go to school<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My house is a home, and im not alone<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Leaves are green, leaves are brown, we can see them on the ground<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

“<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The future may not be bright, and the pain may feel endless, but sometimes when you hold on longer, the sun will riseand will only rise for<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Trees, trees so tall, i am four and only small””<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

“<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My book is full of wonderful things to see, its easy to read like 1, 2, 3<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

In the beginning there was you and me, playing, and dancing, in hometown of Swansea. Snow and rain, and sun and shine, the city mine<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

He fly’s through the sky, and is really fast<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I opened the book, i had a look, i saw the mushroom<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Windmill, windmill, you work so hard, really we are worlds apart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Whirling windmills, swirling leaves, clouds above mark a heart, an ending here or a new start<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

fantasy poems, visual imagery, tell a tale of woe and misery<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

not just woe, but all smiley things too, a whole tapestry of thoughts and rhymes, to mark the times in Swansea seaside town<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

the sounds the smells the waves the people the smiles the kids. it’s the place to be sunny jack land swansea<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

smells of the jacket potatoes drifting in the air, the sounds of the wave playing in the gardens sarah lee davey<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Bob opened the door knob and asked Jeff to be his chef Mel rang a bell because Bob’s food was ready!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

dyer taught me to die and eat a pie while Shelvy was selfish He said pelvis<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I rule<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

flop from the top, down to the floor and run away from a big boar!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Running on the beaches, splashing in the sea, I love visiting swansea, Swansea City!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I love to Go to the LC The waves are sooo juicy. Also strolling on the peir makes me wanna scream…SWANSEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

paige did you get colder before you got older, no one got wiser, we all just got gold.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Gingers rule even though they have to go to school, they will take over the world just you wait and see!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Where a line meets another line, a shape begins to form, not an ordinary, but something out of the norm. A line, a point, beginning….end!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

those lines and dots they can form knots pick at em like u pick at spots<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Feelings when you love someone who is no longer there remembering shows that you really care<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

jewel of sea, teases the ships to land in a jasmine Botany bay, fragrant air blows my blind girl with her rose window to the headland<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sarah evans<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Waiting on a warm April afternoon I people watch in a car park \/\/ couples arguing, children, two men with soft velvet voices \/\/<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

\/\/ in the car next mine \/\/ gulls flowing in with the river \/\/ perfect clouds in blue sky \/\/ tree tops far beyond<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Phil C<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

mowing the grass, fresh aromas fill the air<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

grass, glass, pass, fast<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea used to be a beautiful city. But over the last 10\/15 years it has slowly and gradually deteriorated<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Until now it is a shadow of its former self. -Come on guys, let’s all try to work together and get it back to the standard it used to be!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Franus Konkol<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea is amazing, Swansea makes me smile. Swansea is my heart of hearts, Swansea had a Mumbles mile.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If I had to chose a home, Swansea’s where it’d be. If i had to be a gnome, I know here I would be free.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

My name is Scarlet Rose And this is how I feel If any of you disagree just message me your spiel.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Surprisingly Wonderful Aesthetically Nautical Super Exciting Area<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I walk around in a sea town where is Swansea, with a frown? Buildings and people change and come and go and my eyes and mind are rearranged<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

For better for worse I understand the town the place is loud and grand. And I stand here amid the land where Welsh & “ness” go hand in hand<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I walk around the sea town and all the hills are going down “Where is Swansea?” I repeat while the gulls show me their beak<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

They laugh at me -or perhaps with?- I hold my first belief and then show them my back.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea’s where friends are -my latest group of friends here- the last decade went Haiku by a painter<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Satchitananda, that’s who we are our deep down Self the timeless center of all Universes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

As a wave is a function of the whole ocean, so your deep down Self is a function of what the whole Universe does.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Everywhere and nowhere at once.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I don’t know what to write, I’m sorry -said the Londoner in front of a screen- Oh, I don’t know, think of something, mate? He laughs. End.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I don’t know what to write now -said the Welsh girl- I have to be inspired by something. She nods and smiles. She changes the plot.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Godfather, godfather, what can I do? I have a few problems, that’s why I come to you. Tell me, tell me, what do you know?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

All I hear from you is wise words. How do I get rid of somebody, make him disappear? Send him to the crows. Is this wise, is this wise?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Because…who knows, he will come back to give you a rose. Beware, beware, he knows you know. Listen, listen, then you will grow.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The rain stays mainly in Spain but Spain never rains.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Grow your own vegetables in Gower, that only will give you resilient power.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sharing a house, working in a call center, paying back student loans, being late for jobseekers, scraping your pennies for 99p shop NOW!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Oh, ciudad de los cisnes y del mar anhelante de ir por delante de su recuerdo los nuevos habitantes que nacen o se han movido reflexionan<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Que habremos hecho para acabar aqui, enfrente del acantilado me siento a respirar aire viciado y rezo a un cerebro cuerdo vivo que abandonan<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Untroubled buildings decay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Untroubled waters sleep<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Untroubled secrets keep<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Troubled children stay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

there’s something deep inside me im afraid to let it out theres something deep inside me it makes me scream and shout empty is how i feel<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swansea is the best. Blaenymaes school is the best. There are lots of brilliant shops and lovely sandy beaches. The cold, deep and huge sea.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A city of warm-hearted people Srihariketty<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A beautiful place with beautiful people -but I almost went away- I decided to come back and Swansea is where I stay! Claire Jones<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From reading books, and playing games I have watched you since you were small from babe in arms to growing boy I’ve shared your tears<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and times of joy. Dear Grandson, how I care for you and always want to share with you the times in life when you’re on top<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

or to give you a cuddle when spirits drop. So when your parents need some space there’ll be a welcome at my place<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Grandparents have their uses too there’ll always be a room for you. When memories are short, and days are long you’re in my heart<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

-where you belong. You’ve given me great times to treasure, my Grandson, I love you beyond measure. B.S. Lewis<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Dad…from choc-a-bloc shallows or sun-baked cliff we’d watch him swimming away – that effortless, lazy stroke of his slicing through breake<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

rs taking him further and further out (the speck of the dog in hopelss pursuit) to where it was doldrum-calm – a floating heaven, a fleetin<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

g haven somewhere beyond the crowds, the workaday streets, the reach of everyone: weightless and still there or splashing and fountaining fe<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

et – sometimes diving so deep we’d hold our breath wondering when or if he’d ever come up, but mostly just lying there – our Raft our Buoy<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

our Moby Dick – eyes closed or gazing through toes at a sail or a mast – the hazy, lazy coast of distant Devon…<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Life can be miserable sometimes -I lost my mother seven years ago- she died of cancer, a tumor, in the head. I’ve seen three counselors<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I was very angry I wasn’t happy with -you mustn’t say- God I had a nervous breakdown, I did. This is true. I went from heaven End of tunnel<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

You never get over it, that’s the fact. They say time is a healer, but… It’s nice to talk to somebody. I don’t talk to many people.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Then I met my boyfriend, so it’s not so bad. Some people are still living with cancer hard to put in words. You got to see it to believe it<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Silence is golden -so they say but take my words, it’s not silence can be caused by many things, by deafness which can lead to a lonely life<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a deaf person is very wary of speaking to another person because if they reply they cannot hear them; also they will rarely speak<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

to another deaf person because they will not hear so they retreat into their own silent world which leads them to avoid company<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

mostly through embarrassment. – B. S. Lewis<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Your star Catch the star that holds your destiny the one that shines in your heart always believe that your goal is attainable<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

as long as you commit yourself to it. The greatest gift in life are acquired through determination and hard work you alone can make<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

your dreams come true. Give your dreams and hopes everything you’ve got then you will achieve your goal. – B.S. Lewis<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The soldier. Soldier, soldier, rough at sight gentle was his name sweetness was what was known of him flowers were placed on his grave.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

His clothing was so dirty and sweat poured from his face. he battled in the trenches in weather cold and grim.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

His thoughts of home and comfort warmed him from within. He fought for Queen and country not to be forgotten when in battle he did fall<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

His life was taken from him. He was an only son but many sons were saved because of this brave one. But glory he shall have<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

in a better place. His brothers and his sisters all live in peace since that day has past. But one day they will meet that brave soldier<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

who gave his very last.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

#NAME?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Empty shops. Empty places. Sums up our city. Lots of lovely shops. Busy. They have all gone to Cardiff.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Empty shops. Blank faces. Sums up our city. It’s not just the shops. It’s everything. It’s a time of abandonment.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Empty shops and blank faces. Sums up our city. That’s what the case is.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Free. Exhilarated. Dancing with strangers. Painting smiles in my emotions. Looking both sides before crossing the street in case I see you.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The party Bring your own drink -and your own vote- and if your party wins then you can gloat!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Crazy, crazy, crazy woman. It’s windy. Wendy, like the wind blowing. You crazy, she crazy, me crazy. Man with no name was one of them.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

All poetry rhymes otherwise, crimes But if you eat rye you’re allowed to cry It doesn’t have to mean as long as a word is seen<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Emma, Emma, big and bold with me she laughs and feels she’s sold. Dream, dream, she likes and snores she tells me things that no one knows<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Tell me, tell me I ask her more my dreams and schemes are long and sore I will not tell I hear her say you will have to tell me before I go<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

away<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Wait, wait, I way to her, drive your car, my dear, or you will stay.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

*say<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

We must go -at 5 o’clock- we have a meeting in Sainsbury’s -at 5 o’clock- you’re welcome to join us for a coffee -at 5 o’clock- no, no, no<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More Poetry is Needed Maybe it’s succeeded: A void of words A chasm of verbs A prison of nouns A depth with no bounds? NO –<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

An expanse of fluent cogent phrases On a bed of daisies A symphony of sentences falling as stars Settling into the realm of the written word<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A release of the iron bars ’till finally all poetry is heard OUTCOME All poetry is heeded!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

let’s have a coffee at costa<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

or stroll through Cline gardens letting our spaniel alfie run wild and free . As we reach the hill we all roll down like children .<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like to sit on the stones to relax my feet and say hi to the people that i meet<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

when i am down the beach i like to have a treat and rest my tired feet and say sup to people i meet!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

when im down at the beach i like having an ice cream its sooooo nice i call it a nicecream!!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

When I’m down by the sea, it makes me as happy as can be! Playing in the sun and having loads of fun the beach is where I want to be!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like to watch all the waves whilst counting the days until I will be here again!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

i like to sit on the sand when im on the beach because it makes me feel as happy as can de!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The coffee ring poems now painted on walls. Bright tattoo tags: tribal territory. Working under the skin of shufflers by.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

I like going to joe`s ice cream and sitting in the rock pool.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The waves rolling in over the sand and crashing against the rocks<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Open up your heart and experience the magic & power of the universerse …<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

sitting in the sun on my favourite bench in the rhodedendrum gardens with lily and ralph my dogs<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Our Cockapoodle waggles her tail on the lawns of remnant aristocrats.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Swallows glide along the Clyne tree-line, like Airbus A380’s along Greenland to New York. Their African calls brighten up the place.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

take it to the bridge, betwixt the curb sides, is where I lay<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Learn to love yourself, unconditionally, inside & outside. Let the tears flow freely like iced diamonds<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Sorry no can do cuz I know kung- fu Because you fall seven times stand up eight!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Adding on to make you straight like making things go on a date<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

writing now to make a frown going down to go to town.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

you know what would make a train three buckets of glass pains.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Five nights at Freddy’s is a game which you will desire to play<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

If you know how to make art you could see the sun shine.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

with support from your mom you will make us go on<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

come on everybody show up here and expand this by adding some ideas.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

There was a man, with a mysterious red object for a head…on his waist..he had jeans, no one knew the reason or means…<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

balloons ran out of helium……..there all stuck theres no holding em…………swansea has art and culture all over the place<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

so get involved and give it a new face<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

pink splodges falling off the stairs…. the man staring at them who just doesn’t care<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

or does he?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

and i can’t find the way to Swansea, the signs seem to all be pointing in different directions<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

but is there just one way? When did we decide that there was only one way to do things?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

a sentence says a lot, but a picture says more…<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

like actions speak louder than words<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

or do they?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

swansea is awesome!!!!!<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

or is it?<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

thats how it seems but don’t assume. cities can change as much as life<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

It changes as much as the tides<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

More poetry is needed the poster pleaded, for less gloom and doom, let us make room for words and faith, not blind but kind, words embellish<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

words embellished and more than relished by whom it may concern, for whom words toll and touch the soul, that pull<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

you inside out and make you want to stamp your feet and shout, yes more poetry is needed, let us hope the posters plea is heeded.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Slack tide of a City waiting to change A wealth of investors lay dormant and still Spring-melt economies warmth from the sun<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Take the deadweight of history into the sea Horizons unlimited no setting sun Futures not written are open to all<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

hustle bustle toil and muscle street hard pounding down tramping feet around the town office doors open shut welcome shoppers wealthy or not<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

tired and weary happy or tearey looking for a seat somewhere to eat before going home taking car bus or train<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

business finished money spent dark streets quiet digesting their diet of lost hungry souls. Anabee<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Jerry and Tom to Wind street they went. This time without fuss and the rest of us. To open a bottle they were hell bent.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A custom of old had made them so bold. A date to remember in mid November when the knowing parley for New Beaujolais day.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The high pitched bleating of a seagull leaning into the wind drowns out the ocean roar of morning rush hour traffic.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Smooth hot chocolate creamy foam view Postcard view Sunlight breaks through silver on the grey. Glacier calm the sea bridges the gap between<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

From this side of the bay to Mumbles Head.A line of shadow marks the horizon as sea grey meets blue sky grey<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

where heavy rain clouds are gathering, their movements changing the view.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

lightly they tread, tip toeing along the sky. they’ll ruin your washing, left on the line, soaked right through.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

The golden sunshine now clasps the whole city in warm embrace the people rejoice in her unforgettable splenour<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Flotsamed houses litter a storm-washed shore Clinging limpet-like to ancient roots An almost lost language names the rows.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

never lose faith of what you believe in. never lose faith in what is true always lose faith in the people that decieve you always lose faith<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A hunch of grey-paned houses Takes shelter from the gathering storm; Seagulls freewheel in slow motion Over gloaming skies;<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

A tread of light; Unbelieving; Frightful at sight Almost decieving Here the town lay, Under blue breezes<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Rising above the winter coat of grey The hills and shores with age old defiance grasp For the palest rays of sun on a clear Spring day,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Desperate to say “We are still here!”. We have not succumbed to the numbing cold of the winter winds. The clock has turned,<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

And the warmth renews our verdant banks With daffodil speckled delight.<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n

Each a torch, a warning a scream of spring Our resistance to leaving a victory in itself the clock has turned<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As part of Art Across The City 2014, we launched the TAWE MEGA POEM. Inspired by the Dylan Thomas 100\u00a0centenary, Swansea and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7988,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_vp_format_video_url":"","_vp_image_focal_point":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[216,287,4,6,10,161],"tags":[124,121,290,291,284,115,289,286],"class_list":["post-7962","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-about-the-artworks","category-dylan-thomas-100","category-education","category-heritage","category-news","category-outreach-news","tag-art-across-the-city","tag-dylan-thomas","tag-mega","tag-poem","tag-poetry","tag-swansea","tag-tawe","tag-tawe-mega-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7962","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7962"}],"version-history":[{"count":33,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7962\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13208,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7962\/revisions\/13208"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/7988"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7962"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7962"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/locwsinternational.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7962"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}