In the windswept forest of ice and snow,
in the mountain blizzard and the winter's cold,
a spectre of stripes glides through the tundra.
Other creatures clear the way for her,
the terror of the northern reaches.
Her fur a tapestry of tawny and black,
a roaring fire amidst the white haze.
Her den cradled by the roots of an old pine,
the fallen cones scattered outside.
A hare crosses the threshold,
hears a rumbling growl within and flees.
The mother tigress shelters her newborns,
blind and mewling, against the arctic chill.
Soon the hunt will call to her again,
and she will haunt the ice once more.
(Yep, we're off on the NaPoWriMo adventure once more. Who knows where it'll go this year, but we'll soon find out with the next installment tomorrow. See you all there, and to my fellow poets, good luck!)
Showing posts with label snow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snow. Show all posts
Monday, 1 April 2019
Wednesday, 27 June 2018
Frynwys Features #4: The Never Ending Winter
So it's safe to say a fair bit has happened in Frynwys since the last check-in. I find sometimes that to make up for my home village's lack of interesting distractions, I must leave a period of two to four months and store up any goings-on until the next installment. It's a bit like keeping a growing turkey in your freezer until Christmas, although if you tried to eat this one you'd end up with a keyboard and mouse for afters. Still, now that the sufficient standing time has passed, here's what's been going on in the village of late.
The first (and no doubt biggest) thing to mention is that Frynwys was recently caught out when the Beast from the East collided with Storm Emma over the south west. The entire village was snowed under for three days, with no one able to move their cars or make much headway through the drifts. But it did allow for some great sledging on some of the hills, and I saw several people making the most of it when I braved the blizzards myself. The ponds froze over, and by the time they began to thaw out, the snow on the road had mostly turned to brown slush thanks to grit. Like everywhere else in Wales, it took everyone a while to get moving again, and as a side effect the only shop in the village ran out of milk, which demonstrates the ability to make a cup of tea takes top priority during a snowstorm here.
Once the worst of the winter weather passed, we were still left with a bitter chill. Fortunately though, the first signs of spring started to appear, in the form of frogs crossing the road, and the emergence of daffodils. The fish are still in residence at the pond, much to the annoyance of the wildlife warden who I saw trying to catch some of them a few weeks back. It seems that the warden has a lot of things to worry about, as there have been teams of people in the nearby woods felling trees. Large sections of trees have been cordoned off with tape only to be chopped down the following day. I have no idea why they're doing it now, but it has only been the odd cluster so far, so hopefully Frynwys will not become deforested any time soon.
Another bit of good news is that there seem to be more dogs in the area than last year. Specifically I've seen a number of puppies being taken out on their first walks into the fields around the village, and they are an energetic bunch. So far I've seen golden retrievers, Cocker spaniels and at least one field spaniel out and about. It's nice to see so many new dog owners in the area and to see the puppies making sense of the world around them. Frynwys has always had a large percentage of dog owners, but in the last three years especially I've seen the number of dogs increase steadily. With so many spaniels in the area, the fish that were released into the pond are now ducking for cover every time one of them cannonballs into the water.
Now that summer has truly arrived in South Wales, it seems the people of Frynwys have been out and about enjoying the record-breaking temperatures. As someone who suffers from hay fever, the fact that I'm surrounded by trees and long grass is a constant source of irony and itchy eyes. In recent days I spotted a tractor in the biggest field cutting back the grass which releases much of the pollen, but the trees are still doing their bit in keeping noses running across the village. Many of my neighbours have been visiting the village park and the local pub, the Dormarch, especially since the start of the sunshine and the World Cup. Their investment in the tournament seems strange to me, especially since Wales were knocked out of the qualifying round, but it's nice to see people having something to enjoy given the never ending stream of bad news we usually get.
Anyhow, that concludes this installment of Frynwys Features. As always if anything else interesting happens in this quietest of quiet villages, I'll be sure to let you know.
The first (and no doubt biggest) thing to mention is that Frynwys was recently caught out when the Beast from the East collided with Storm Emma over the south west. The entire village was snowed under for three days, with no one able to move their cars or make much headway through the drifts. But it did allow for some great sledging on some of the hills, and I saw several people making the most of it when I braved the blizzards myself. The ponds froze over, and by the time they began to thaw out, the snow on the road had mostly turned to brown slush thanks to grit. Like everywhere else in Wales, it took everyone a while to get moving again, and as a side effect the only shop in the village ran out of milk, which demonstrates the ability to make a cup of tea takes top priority during a snowstorm here.
Once the worst of the winter weather passed, we were still left with a bitter chill. Fortunately though, the first signs of spring started to appear, in the form of frogs crossing the road, and the emergence of daffodils. The fish are still in residence at the pond, much to the annoyance of the wildlife warden who I saw trying to catch some of them a few weeks back. It seems that the warden has a lot of things to worry about, as there have been teams of people in the nearby woods felling trees. Large sections of trees have been cordoned off with tape only to be chopped down the following day. I have no idea why they're doing it now, but it has only been the odd cluster so far, so hopefully Frynwys will not become deforested any time soon.
Another bit of good news is that there seem to be more dogs in the area than last year. Specifically I've seen a number of puppies being taken out on their first walks into the fields around the village, and they are an energetic bunch. So far I've seen golden retrievers, Cocker spaniels and at least one field spaniel out and about. It's nice to see so many new dog owners in the area and to see the puppies making sense of the world around them. Frynwys has always had a large percentage of dog owners, but in the last three years especially I've seen the number of dogs increase steadily. With so many spaniels in the area, the fish that were released into the pond are now ducking for cover every time one of them cannonballs into the water.
Now that summer has truly arrived in South Wales, it seems the people of Frynwys have been out and about enjoying the record-breaking temperatures. As someone who suffers from hay fever, the fact that I'm surrounded by trees and long grass is a constant source of irony and itchy eyes. In recent days I spotted a tractor in the biggest field cutting back the grass which releases much of the pollen, but the trees are still doing their bit in keeping noses running across the village. Many of my neighbours have been visiting the village park and the local pub, the Dormarch, especially since the start of the sunshine and the World Cup. Their investment in the tournament seems strange to me, especially since Wales were knocked out of the qualifying round, but it's nice to see people having something to enjoy given the never ending stream of bad news we usually get.
Anyhow, that concludes this installment of Frynwys Features. As always if anything else interesting happens in this quietest of quiet villages, I'll be sure to let you know.
Thursday, 29 March 2018
Hell's Daffodils
A short time ago in a valley of snow
lived a man on a bike with nowhere to go.
He wanted to ride on the valley roads
but in his garden a flower started to grow.
A daffodil was sprouting despite the cold,
and it grew much faster than a blob of mould.
The man watched it bloom next to a garden gnome.
while the blizzard still threatened to bury his home.
A strange thing happened in the flowerbed;
two daffodils sprouted their bright yellow heads
next to the first above the settling snow,
but it was never foreseen how many would grow.
Ten times ten times ten the daffs all emerged,
before the man knew it the flowers converged
on his small house with strangling roots and stems,
at twelve feet tall, all of the daffs followed this trend.
The man was trapped in a nest of roots.
He remembered when he saw those fresh young shoots,
their brand new petals, their sumptuous glow.
Now he panicked as they burst in through the window.
And so it was that the man met his end
in the worst snowstorm he could comprehend.
When the blizzard cleared the house was still there,
entombed in the tendrils of the daffodils' snare.
lived a man on a bike with nowhere to go.
He wanted to ride on the valley roads
but in his garden a flower started to grow.
A daffodil was sprouting despite the cold,
and it grew much faster than a blob of mould.
The man watched it bloom next to a garden gnome.
while the blizzard still threatened to bury his home.
A strange thing happened in the flowerbed;
two daffodils sprouted their bright yellow heads
next to the first above the settling snow,
but it was never foreseen how many would grow.
Ten times ten times ten the daffs all emerged,
before the man knew it the flowers converged
on his small house with strangling roots and stems,
at twelve feet tall, all of the daffs followed this trend.
The man was trapped in a nest of roots.
He remembered when he saw those fresh young shoots,
their brand new petals, their sumptuous glow.
Now he panicked as they burst in through the window.
And so it was that the man met his end
in the worst snowstorm he could comprehend.
When the blizzard cleared the house was still there,
entombed in the tendrils of the daffodils' snare.
Thursday, 1 March 2018
Happy St. David's Day!
So it's St. David's Day here in Wales, and for the first time in about ten years it's snowing. There's a red warning in place from the Met Office for most of Wales, and I can tell you that Frynwys is snowed under. My plan of action is to wait for it to pass, but judging by the forecast it appears I won't be going anywhere until Sunday at least. To pass the time, here's some updates on what will be occurring on this blog in the near future.
For those of you who've recently joined us, I release the first installment of Slam Poetry on the Spot yesterday, analysing a poem by Suli Breaks. It took me a while to get that article together after numerous delays, so it's a relief to have it finished. Next up in the frame is Grand Slam poetry champion Harry Baker, so look out for that (I can't put a specific date on when that will come out, but hopefully I won't do a George R. R. Martin and take six years to write it). In a similar vein, I'm working on the next installment of Frynwys Features, and judging by the whiteout going on at the moment I suspect there will be more than a few new developments.
Poetry wise, I've got a couple of new poems close to being finished, one of which was meant to be for today but didn't make it in time. With a few adjustments it should be posted in the next couple of days. On that note, the animal poems (especially the tiger themed ones) have not gone anywhere, so expect a few more of those as we head into March. Otherwise, it's pretty much business as usual here. I'm going to try and keep things fairly consistent and post more often, because it's been a long wait between posts at times. Hopefully I can shorten the waiting times and all will be well in the world of verse.
Anyways, those are the updates as they stand. So wrap up warm if you're going out, enjoy those Welsh cakes if you're not and look out for slumbering dragons if you're doing both!
For those of you who've recently joined us, I release the first installment of Slam Poetry on the Spot yesterday, analysing a poem by Suli Breaks. It took me a while to get that article together after numerous delays, so it's a relief to have it finished. Next up in the frame is Grand Slam poetry champion Harry Baker, so look out for that (I can't put a specific date on when that will come out, but hopefully I won't do a George R. R. Martin and take six years to write it). In a similar vein, I'm working on the next installment of Frynwys Features, and judging by the whiteout going on at the moment I suspect there will be more than a few new developments.
Poetry wise, I've got a couple of new poems close to being finished, one of which was meant to be for today but didn't make it in time. With a few adjustments it should be posted in the next couple of days. On that note, the animal poems (especially the tiger themed ones) have not gone anywhere, so expect a few more of those as we head into March. Otherwise, it's pretty much business as usual here. I'm going to try and keep things fairly consistent and post more often, because it's been a long wait between posts at times. Hopefully I can shorten the waiting times and all will be well in the world of verse.
Anyways, those are the updates as they stand. So wrap up warm if you're going out, enjoy those Welsh cakes if you're not and look out for slumbering dragons if you're doing both!
Friday, 31 March 2017
Snow Leopard
A stream in the highest valley,
a glacier of the Himalayas,
frozen yet still running
thanks to a conscientious spring.
Prints in the snow betray
the path of a snow leopard
prowling along the valley
towards an intended victim.
A markhor buck drinks at the stream,
a lord of mountain goats,
coiled corkscrew snake horns
and a man fit for a horse.
A pale ghost, the spotted shade,
slinks along the rocks,
and surprises the thirsty goat,
chasing it headlong up a ridge
till claws and teeth seize it
just as it leaps from a ledge.
a glacier of the Himalayas,
frozen yet still running
thanks to a conscientious spring.
Prints in the snow betray
the path of a snow leopard
prowling along the valley
towards an intended victim.
A markhor buck drinks at the stream,
a lord of mountain goats,
coiled corkscrew snake horns
and a man fit for a horse.
A pale ghost, the spotted shade,
slinks along the rocks,
and surprises the thirsty goat,
chasing it headlong up a ridge
till claws and teeth seize it
just as it leaps from a ledge.
Friday, 26 December 2014
The Town I Forgot
There's a place that I keep forgetting,
a town in the hills from which iron and steel
ran down to the ports on rivers of coal.
Blaenavon they call it.
It clings to the walls of the valley,
a shadow of the glory days
when fumes rose from the steelworks
and the wheel of Big Pit kept turning.
Nan ruled the café on the high street.
Some say she ruled the whole town.
Certainly the best Welsh cakes
came from her kitchen.
Half my ancestry lived in this town,
in the shadow of the old mines,
the furnaces and the hills.
Some of them still do.
When it snows in Blaenavon
the streets are impassable.
A snowball to the eye never hurt anyone,
not with a cup of tea to look forward to.
I went back to the town I forgot.
Everyone still knows everyone else,
and the winds are cold
down the perpetual high street.
Houses I knew and visited
belong to someone else.
All the old faces are gone.
The others all shelter in the valleys.
Someday I will go back
to that town in the coal hills,
and see what they left behind.
(This is a poem is a tribute to the town of Blaneavon, where many generations of my family lived.)
a town in the hills from which iron and steel
ran down to the ports on rivers of coal.
Blaenavon they call it.
It clings to the walls of the valley,
a shadow of the glory days
when fumes rose from the steelworks
and the wheel of Big Pit kept turning.
Nan ruled the café on the high street.
Some say she ruled the whole town.
Certainly the best Welsh cakes
came from her kitchen.
Half my ancestry lived in this town,
in the shadow of the old mines,
the furnaces and the hills.
Some of them still do.
When it snows in Blaenavon
the streets are impassable.
A snowball to the eye never hurt anyone,
not with a cup of tea to look forward to.
I went back to the town I forgot.
Everyone still knows everyone else,
and the winds are cold
down the perpetual high street.
Houses I knew and visited
belong to someone else.
All the old faces are gone.
The others all shelter in the valleys.
Someday I will go back
to that town in the coal hills,
and see what they left behind.
(This is a poem is a tribute to the town of Blaneavon, where many generations of my family lived.)
Thursday, 25 December 2014
The Tiger Poet vs. Christmas
It’s that time of year again. In many ways it’s arrived sooner that I thought, but it’s always great when it does. Out of all the times to be at home, Christmas is perhaps the best. Having just returned home from university, I’m relishing not having to worry about conserving money, and the festivities are currently at the forefront of my schedule. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t take time out to write this post, as even poets have something to say about Christmas. The best I can do is to share a little bit of what Christmas is like in my home village.
I know some readers have been wondering where exactly I live in South Wales, and I’m pleased to finally provide the answer. I live in Frynwys, a small village to the south of the Valleys. It has a few central features; the village hall, a pub and a small shop all within a few hundred yards of each other. As a result everyone goes to the same place for their milk. The streets in Frynwys are quite close together, meaning that you can’t walk a short distance without encountering give different sets of Christmas lights. People who live here tend to be somewhat competitive with their lights, with some houses trying to outdo each other with the elaborate decorations. It makes for a Christmas that’s brightly illuminated if nothing else.
My house has now been decked with bells of holly and such. Actually it’s been decked with tinsel and baubles; there aren’t any bells of holly. But there are quite a lot of lights and a few Christmas trees about the place. Tinsel which didn’t end up on the trees is now decorating the bannisters, the kitchen and the living room. The presents started arriving last week and there’s a fair few of them already. How many there’ll be on Christmas Day is still down to guesses (when is it not?), but I suspect there’ll be at least twice or three times as many as there are now.
The last time Frynwys saw a white Christmas was ten years ago in 2004. I learned this week that for it to truly be a white Christmas, snowflakes must be falling on the day, as well as snow being on the ground. From what the weather forecast has been saying recently, the chances of this happening are slim to put it mildly. Instead we’re getting rain, and lots of it. It’s mostly light drizzle at the moment, but when it’s like this for days on end it feels like you’re trapped in a particularly gloomy painting. The most recent forecast is claiming that it will be a lot dryer on Christmas Eve, but the last time I trusted the weather forecast my hopes were dashed and I had to go to school that day.
Aside from the weather and the decorations, the things that most people look forward to on Christmas Day are the presents. When I was asked what I wanted this year, it took me a while to provide an answer. I don’t know why, but the same innate excitement at the prospect of dozens of presents under the tree has slowly evaporated. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re an adult, but it’s not great, and this year I’m going to great lengths not to see any presents being placed under the tree. It’s proven slightly harder this year because new presents are appearing all the time, but I think I’ve marginally succeeded in steering clear of the tree this year.
Speaking of presents, I’ve bought a few for my family while I was away at university. They took a while to find, but I’m just hoping they’ll like them. One thing I’ve discovered since being a student is that time management is of the utmost importance. Because I’m the most unpunctual student there’s ever been, I ended up buying my presents at the last minute. Then again, I suppose since many people are doing this when Christmas comes around, maybe I’m not as monumentally late as I think.
I hope this has given you some idea of how Christmas is going for me at the moment. As this post is going out on the day itself, I hope everyone is well and that you all have a brilliant time.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
I know some readers have been wondering where exactly I live in South Wales, and I’m pleased to finally provide the answer. I live in Frynwys, a small village to the south of the Valleys. It has a few central features; the village hall, a pub and a small shop all within a few hundred yards of each other. As a result everyone goes to the same place for their milk. The streets in Frynwys are quite close together, meaning that you can’t walk a short distance without encountering give different sets of Christmas lights. People who live here tend to be somewhat competitive with their lights, with some houses trying to outdo each other with the elaborate decorations. It makes for a Christmas that’s brightly illuminated if nothing else.
My house has now been decked with bells of holly and such. Actually it’s been decked with tinsel and baubles; there aren’t any bells of holly. But there are quite a lot of lights and a few Christmas trees about the place. Tinsel which didn’t end up on the trees is now decorating the bannisters, the kitchen and the living room. The presents started arriving last week and there’s a fair few of them already. How many there’ll be on Christmas Day is still down to guesses (when is it not?), but I suspect there’ll be at least twice or three times as many as there are now.
The last time Frynwys saw a white Christmas was ten years ago in 2004. I learned this week that for it to truly be a white Christmas, snowflakes must be falling on the day, as well as snow being on the ground. From what the weather forecast has been saying recently, the chances of this happening are slim to put it mildly. Instead we’re getting rain, and lots of it. It’s mostly light drizzle at the moment, but when it’s like this for days on end it feels like you’re trapped in a particularly gloomy painting. The most recent forecast is claiming that it will be a lot dryer on Christmas Eve, but the last time I trusted the weather forecast my hopes were dashed and I had to go to school that day.
Aside from the weather and the decorations, the things that most people look forward to on Christmas Day are the presents. When I was asked what I wanted this year, it took me a while to provide an answer. I don’t know why, but the same innate excitement at the prospect of dozens of presents under the tree has slowly evaporated. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re an adult, but it’s not great, and this year I’m going to great lengths not to see any presents being placed under the tree. It’s proven slightly harder this year because new presents are appearing all the time, but I think I’ve marginally succeeded in steering clear of the tree this year.
Speaking of presents, I’ve bought a few for my family while I was away at university. They took a while to find, but I’m just hoping they’ll like them. One thing I’ve discovered since being a student is that time management is of the utmost importance. Because I’m the most unpunctual student there’s ever been, I ended up buying my presents at the last minute. Then again, I suppose since many people are doing this when Christmas comes around, maybe I’m not as monumentally late as I think.
I hope this has given you some idea of how Christmas is going for me at the moment. As this post is going out on the day itself, I hope everyone is well and that you all have a brilliant time.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
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