The Oath of Rhain

This is the oath of the hunter,
these are the terms set in place,
that he may roam forever free
but never surrender the chase.

Rhain, known to all as the Reaper,
countless are those I have slain.
My prey cannot outrun their fate
from the moment they hear my name.

I shall chase them to the world's edge,
my pursuit will never case.
Through the wind, the snow and the fire
nevermore will my prey know peace.

I shall bring my trophies to bear
and my task will be complete,
for I will not be eluded
I will never be dealt defeat.

This is the oath of the hunter,
these are the terms set in place,
that I may roam forever free
but never surrender the chase.

NaPoWriMo #27: Song for Home

Five tries, two conversions,
the statistics required
to unleash mayhem onto the streets.

They flood out of the stadium,
pour through the side streets
into every pub in town,
singing to the sky beyond the rafters.

In the railway station
the pigeons start awake in their roosts
as the thunder of a thousand footsteps
rumbles up onto the platform.

A cross-city trains slithers alongside,
every carriage a battleground
filled to the brim like fishermen's nets
and hauled to cities beyond the hills

reverberating with drunken choruses
along every mile of darkening rail
while the city sings into the night.

NaPoWriMo #23: Rivers of Coal

Up in the hills where the collieries sleep,
where the railway tracks are submerged in moss,
the wheels atop the tower seem to weep
the stones in the blacksmith's yard are all glossed
in a dwindling frost fleeing from the spring.
Caverns beneath the hills vast and still,
adorning the grey cliffs to which they cling,
sheltering sheep against the mountain chill.
The descendants live in the past's shadow
claim the ruins for their own, make them new,
no longer the halls where molten fires flow
but a monument to the mining crew.
Within these hills run the rivers of coal
that brought to the valleys their heart and soul

(And so, to celebrate the birthday of his majesty the Shakespeare, I bring you a sonnet about that most familiar of Welsh subjects.)

NaPoWriMo #12: Dracoraptor

Dragon thief,
forbearer of the tyrant lizard king,
dredged from the cliffs
in a many-layered casket.

Feathered fiend
shore dweller,
red from head to tail-tip,
like the serpentine fire-breather
adorning the flag of its resting place.

Still growing
before the rocks entombed it,
yet still the oldest creature
from the era of the giants,
a tenacious herald
of the giants to come.

NaPoWriMo #11: Twmbarlwm Tribe

The spring light bathes the ancient Celtic fort,
a forgotten tump sat atop a peak.
Nondescript, no markings of which to speak,
yet within its walls are tales of a sort.
The Romans on the plain would try and thwart
the tribe from the woods playing hide and seek.
Against the legion their prospects were bleak,
but on top of the hill they held court,
decided to make the forest their shield.
Subterfuge became their weapon of choice,
they'd strike and disappear into the green
to the phalanx of Rome they'd never yield.
A sentry on the hill yells at full voice,
the army approaches but not unseen.

Happy St. David's Day 2019!

Hello everyone, once again it's St. David's Day here in Wales, and having spent most of the day in Cardiff, it's positively buzzing.

Given our recent success with rugby in the Six Nations, the celebrations this year seem re-energised, with a large parade going back and forth through the city streets. The dragons, daffodils and bake-stones are in abundance. In Frynwys this morning the fields were dotted with patches of daffodils, and it's been one of the sunniest days we've ever had in February. All in all, it seems that this year's St. David's Day has been one of the most colourful on record, but what's happening in the world of Tiger Verse I hear you ask?

Well, things are proceeding at breakneck speed on this blog. Not only have I got another preview from the upcoming Mametz Wood poem to share, but there will also be a few new original poems coming next week. Alongside that, I can also see NaPoWriMo on the horizon again, so it will be all fingers to the keyboard for that.

In the meantime, hope you all have had a happy St. David's Day, and I'll sign off this post with a link to my guitar rendition of the Welsh National Anthem. See you all again soon.

Frynwys Features #5: Wandering Policemen and Missing Moons

It's been a while indeed. Not that Frynwys has changed much since the last bulletin, but there have been a few small developments since the never-ending winter in June of last year. My home village is so small that the minutest of changes is headline news, and fortunately for this next installment of Frynwys Features there have been a few of them over the autumn and the Christmas period for me to jot down here.

The first item on the Frynwys grapevine this time is that the council have renovated all of the footpaths through the fields, a step up from the gravel path that was laid three installments ago. It seems that they've been getting help from some schools in the nearby towns. I've seen several groups of primary school children being led through the field at the bottom of the village to help with laying a new gravel path. They've also been helping with constructing timber benches on the other side of the fields and decorating a new flight of steps leading down to one of the more inaccessible streams in the area. Before this the paths through the nature reserve were all mud and were being slowly worn away. Hopefully now that half the village seems to be involved in their renovation, all the local dog walkers won't have to worry about traversing the marshes anymore.

In slightly more worrying news, there's been a stronger police presence in Frywnys over the last few weeks. There's been a few police helicopters flying overhead, and I've often seen them circling across the village before heading off to the south. Whether it's to do with missing people or criminals on the run, I'm not sure, but it seems they're stepping up their efforts if my latest encounter is anything to go by. As I was walking towards one of the village's smaller parks the other day, I spotted the unmistakable yellow high-visibility jacket of a policeman, complete with the hat and badges. He appeared to be looking for something, as he peered around the side of one of the climbing frames and then headed up to the kissing gate at the top of the field. The policeman was unaware of my presence until he was just about to step through the gate, at which point he turned, looked at me, and then exited the park. Whatever interest the police have in Frynwys, I doubt they'll find what they're looking for on a climbing frame.

Meanwhile, in the gardening section of this bulletin, it appears that the local daffodils are once again rearing their yellow heads. There's a cluster of them up by the old nursery, huddled on a bank at the side of the road, and despite the wintry weather Frynwys is currently experiencing, a few green shoots have already appeared. This is highly unusual as the first daffodils generally don't start appearing here until around the end of February, but it seems a few of them didn't get the memo about spring and have popped out early. I suspect it might have something to do with the aftermath of the Beast from the East from last year, where snow enveloped the village just as it seemed spring was about to arrive. Perhaps the daffodils reset their photosynthesis clocks for this year to avoid another scheduling issue, but this is of course speculation from somebody who has no botanical credentials. If any botanists are reading this post, please comment below and tell me what an idiot I am for suggesting plants can talk to each other.

In more recent phenomena, you may or may not have been lucky enough to witness the super blood wolf moon which appeared in the sky early in the morning on the 21st of January. I myself was hoping to witness the enormous red moon, but it turned out to be a classic case of the British weather conspiring to thwart me once again. Last year I had tried to see a similar moon, but just as the moon was rising a thick bank of clouds smothered the sky and I saw nothing. What made it even more frustrating was that the the moon behind the clouds caused them to glow red. I had hoped to overcome the weather itself this time and catch a glimpse of this solar marvel, but unfortunately I had to resort to looking at photographs on the news that people with clearer skies had taken. Apparently the next super blood wolf moon won't be around for at least another three to five years, so I'll be waiting for a while before I try and outwit the clouds again.

That brings us to the end of another installment of Frywnys Features, but don't worry; if anything changes even in the slightest around my home village I'll be sure to make a note of it. In the meantime, stay tuned for more poetry and possibly a few tigers as well.

Christmas Updates

Hello again! Sorry for the lateness of this post. I have taken up a seasonal job for the time being, and things are mad as you can probably imagine, especially since Christmas is now in full swing. Now that it's Christmas Day I can take a moment to reflect on what's happened in the year, and what's going to happen next year.

Of course, I'm still working on my Mametz Wood project. Some of you may have seen the small preview I posted a while back, and I'm using that as the basis for the completed work. It's taken much longer than I originally estimated, but I'm much nearer to a concrete plan than I have been for some time. There's also great stuff currently happening on the YouTube channel, with almost all of the old videos remastered and a few new ones thrown in for good measure. My next few challenges in that department will include remastering 'Flying Hare', recording 'The Bear of Mysore', and potentially recording something relating to 'Defenders of the Realm'. That last one may be a bit ambitious, but we'll see.

I've also got more poems headed the way of the blog, and hopefully the next Frynwys Features will be here soon. Speaking of which, Frynwys is looking at its most festive today, despite the fact that there's a thick fog outside at the moment. The village hall has got a lot of lights on it, and the Christmas tree in the park is positively smothered in tinsel. I will say that despite the council's limited budget, they sure know how to save it for Christmas. In case you were wondering, I had a good few socks as presents this year, so when the inevitable blizzard arrives in March I won't have a problem with keeping my toes warm.

There will be plenty of things, poetry-related and otherwise, to look forward to when next year rolls around, but for now, I would like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very Happy Christmas! See you in the New Year!

Defenders of the Realm Act I

Aled, Hywel, Fergal, Gethin,
three Welsh, one Irishman settling
in the village he arrived in,
farming in the fields of Wales.

Yet when a prince who claimed the throne
arrived on shores not far from home,
the four friends feared raiders would roam
with the likely threat of war,
the ever-present shadow which
often knocks upon men's doors,
threats which grew across the moors.

They hoped to make a run for it,
and have nothing to do with it.
King Richard would grant no permit
but would not drag them to war.

But just as they made their treaty,
messengers arrived discreetly
and set their stall to entreaty
any bold men to step forth,
as the King needed the aid of
Welshmen if they would step forth
to help with problems up north.

The four friends took their chance quickly,
and travelled across roads strictly
to a time-frame that would see them
meet his grace in the grand hall.

And so King Richard did meet them,
and quite quick to beseech them,
he needed all and each of them
to help a castle in thrall,
in thrall to a pesky dragon
which was tearing down the walls,
a beast with a lot of gall.

The King left them with instructions,
to which they had some compunctions,
that they must slay the great dragon
while he was fighting on the field.

If it was dead before victory,
the King promised no trickery,
he would reward them handsomely
once he returned home from the field,
returned with the head of Henry,
after winning on the field,
returned home with nought to yield.

(Continued in Act II here.)

Remnants

There sits a man by a lake in the cold valley,
hunched over, still, face as scarred as the old quarry
waiting for the wheel to turn, coal to flood back in.
Gone, those days, remnants of steel and masonry.

Snow settles, night draws in, freezes fireless furnace,
yet he sits by the lake, eyes the winding tower,
sits, waiting, hopes for the wheel to resume turning.
Black gold no more, the mine sleeps despite his yearning.

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.

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!

Belated Happy New Year!

Happy New Year everybody! Sorry I haven't been posting anything since last autumn; it's been a busy few months. I managed to get myself a Christmas temporary job over the festive period in the grand old town of Cardiff, so I've had to push back most of my poetry projects until now.

Thankfully, now that my real world job has eased up a bit, I can let you guys know what's going to be happening on this blog in the foreseeable future. In the immediate future I have a couple of poems which have been completed and are almost ready to be posted, along with an article about Hollie McNish and her recent troubles with a certain literary magazine. Aside to that, I'm also still working hard on my analysis of Suli Breaks' poem 'I Will Not Let An Exam Result Decide My Fate', and I hope to have that posted as soon as possible.

As for Frynwys, the village is as quiet as ever, although like those of you living in the UK, we've experienced a bit of snowfall during January, and at times the areas on my usual walk looked like something out of The Polar Express. Not that we have a railway line here, but if you added one in then you have the idea of how much snow was on the ground.

Anyways, here's to another great year of poetry and everyday adventures, and I'll see you all again soon.

Frynwys Features #3: Return of the Goldfish

It's that time again. A lot has happened in Frynwys since the last installment, although in Frynwys terms "a lot" is often what other towns and cities would call "nothing much". This time around there is more news from across the village; at the ponds, on the roads, in the fields and not too far beyond.

The first thing of note is the sudden increase in the number of people repairing fences in the area. This in itself isn't uncommon; homes need maintenance all the time and so to hear someone repairing a bit of woodwork in their garden isn't a strange occurrence. However it's become such a regular occurrence that I'm beginning to wonder if there's a club somewhere encouraging it. Is there a local group which organises Sunday afternoon meetings in someone's front room, filled with china-laden cupboards and linen-clothed tables? This isn't so much a news item as it a personal grievance, but if I hear another hammer hitting the back of a fence or a shed, I might have to start investigating this phenomenon further.

In other news of the slightly less infuriating variety, it appears that someone did not take the nature warden's warning about releasing fish into the pond seriously. Somebody in the village recently noticed up to thirty enormous goldfish swimming around in it, big enough to qualify as small koi carp. The last time this happened the local wildlife which inhabit the pond took a major blow, especially the frogs which use the pond to nurture their frogspawn. That was just a few small fish. After about a week it seems that these fish are not only thriving in the pond, but multiplying. I don't know if the wardens have spotted them yet, but I've spoken to a few people who live near the pond and they certainly have. What sort of measures the wardens will put in place this time remains to be seen, but if they put up another sign I suspect they might need to rethink their deterrence strategy.

With regards to the local animal population, a few new dogs have been spotted in the area. Not strays but dogs with owners attached, and in particular a black pug has caught my attention. He appears to be less than a year old, and is quite hyperactive from what I've seen of him. He runs around the fields to the south of the village in search of other friendly dogs. Most of the other dogs take little notice of him, but if he meets another puppy then an impromptu greyhound race will certainly take place. He's only run up to me once, and I haven't seen much of him since, but hopefully I'll catch sight of him again in the near future.

And last but by no means least, it appears that a few ravens are making their home in the nearby forests. It's not often that you see a raven (at least as I've found), and they're fairly distinctive compared to jackdaws and crows, not by any subtle difference in their plumage, but in their size. They are as big as seagulls, and seeing them foraging in the fields next to smaller birds really highlights this. Also the characteristic rattling call they make is now becoming a semi-regular feature in the skies above Frynwys. Why I never noticed them before is slightly baffling, but alongside the resident jays, crows, jackdaws, magpies and other birds, they make a nice addition to the local ecosystem.

That's all for this installment of Frynwys Features, with my home village more than living up to its reputation. Hopefully by next time something more interesting will have happened, but until then the wait continues.

Frynwys Features #2: Labradors and Lamborghinis

I feel I've said it enough times on this blog to make it redundant, but Frynwys, as a centre of activity, is often as silent as a church. Still, as I demonstrated in the first installment of this recurring feature, things do happen in the village from time to time, and since my last bulletin a few more interesting things have occurred. Mind you, when I say a few, I mean it in the literal sense because it was hard to find enough to fill this segment.

So what's the most striking thing that's happened in Frynwys of late? Well, I suppose there's been an improvement of sorts to the infrastructure, though not in the way you might think. It seems that local volunteers working with the wildlife wardens have dug up a new gravel path on the field near the pond. The path is usually been in mud which takes ages to dry once it gets soaked by a rainstorm. Now with the new gravel in, traversing it is a bit easier. I've noticed in recent weeks that local schools are sending kids down there with their teachers, armed with spades, shovels and the like; presumably to help the wardens with maintaining it. It is quite strange to see entire classes of school kids trapesing through the fields, but at least the community is getting involved with something in the village.

In other news, there's been a rare car sighted on the village hall road; rare in the sense that the car in question is of the expensive kind you don't see in Frynwys at all. As I was walking past the road leading to the village hall and the shop, I caught sight of an orange Lamborghini turn to the right and roar off with a loud blast of the exhaust. I'm guessing it was a Gallardo judging by the shape of the taillights. I know for a fact that no one in Frynwys owns a supercar; the closest is probably the old Lotus on Taliesin Close. Whoever owned the Lamborghini probably came from one of the outlying towns, maybe Pontypool or Caerleon, and stopped by the shop to pick up some milk. I am of course speculating; any self-respecting Lamborghini owner probably has a fridge stacked with milk. Still, it was quite nice to see a car painted in orange for a change.

Speaking of bright orange, we move up one space in the colour spectrum to red, as the local Labour councillor campaigned in the village ahead of the council elections. They arrived on my street with a couple of campaigners to try and spread their message, but when they arrived at my house my mother answered the door. She has been less than impressed with the local council's record, especially on education, and she let the councillor know it. The councillor responded with the same question-dodging tactics most (if not all) politicians use, pointing out that improvements had taken place without providing concrete examples. Needless to say, my mother was less than impressed, and I think you can guess who she didn't vote for at the election.

For the final bit of news, I've also noticed an increase in the number of dogs in the area (pets, not wild ones, obviously). Like many villages and towns in South Wales, Frynwys already has a lot of dog owners amongst its population, but it seems that more people than ever now own a dog judging by the number of them I've seen walking around. The most notable additions have been Labradors and spaniels of varying shades, but there are several other breeds, most often terriers. Due to the fact that Frynwys is quite rural, it's a great environment for dogs, as they have plenty of fields and small wooded areas to run around in, although the recent outbreak of Alabama rot is a real cause for concern. Although rare, there have been an increasing number of cases across the UK, and the most recent case in Wales happened in Magor, Monmouthshire. The cause is as yet unknown, but hopefully vets can find a way to treat it soon and bring a halt to the casualties this terrible disease has already inflicted.

That's it for this installment of Frynwys Features. As I speak the village has returned to being its usual quiet self, but if anything out of the ordinary happens I will cover it in a future installment. Keep an eye out for incoming poems in the next few days. Hope you're all doing well and I'll see you again.

NaPoWriMo #24: Transformation

So, just six more days to go until the end of NaPoWriMo 2017, and it's left a trail of poetry in its wake. With that in mind, here's another poem about South Wales, and about one city in particular which has a strange habit of remaining aesthetically consistent no matter what new development happens.

Transformation

A train station,
Newport railway Station.
Standing since the days
when Queen Victoria
tried to be most amused
and failed.

It's barely changed since then,
save for one illustrious addition,
the segmented silver concourse
with translucent domes at both ends,
joined by a footbridge strung out
like an enormous grey millipede.

The future, they said.
Modernisation, they said.
Newport is ready
to welcome the world, they said.

The same brown soot cloaks it now.
The old platforms lie in its shadow,
still Victoria, still drab and paint-chipped,
just like everything else.

NaPoWriMo #18: The Beast Beneath the Coal

And so I've matched my previous NaPoWriMo record on day eighteen. With this in mind, here's a poem straight from the South Wales Valleys.

The Beast Beneath the Coal

Hills of coal in the southern valleys,
where miners made their homes,
the old ruins of their industry
scattered across the snow-swept slopes.

The beast dwells in the deep caverns
which the miners didn't reach.
Slumbering on a bed of coal
lined with slivers of gold,

no colliery knew of it,
no cavers ever stumbled on it,
and yet the scaly wonder
draws on the warmth
from the rocks above its lair,
waiting for the day
to erupt out of the valley
in a cloud of soot and flame.

NaPoWriMo #12: Severn Blues

Today's poem is inspired by NaPoWriMo's daily prompt, which asked for a poem with a lot of alliteration and assonance. I have to say, having read this back, this poem contains a lot more of the former than it does of the latter.

Severn Blues

A river emerges from the lowlands,
swallowing another as it swirls
its way to the sea
in a sumptuous symphony.

Bridges that bind the roads
in a bilateral bond
brace themselves against the barrage
of the brutal channel wind.

Across the flow of the rolling Severn,
a lammergeyer flies higher than gulls
inland across grass fires to a new roost
somewhere on a drier mountainside.

Frynwys Features #1: A Fishy Engagement

If you're one of the extremely few people who've been following this blog for some time, you'll be aware that I live in a very small village called Frynwys in South Wales. It has few places of note; a village hall, a shop, some wild land on its southern edge, a pub and a couple of small parks. Because of this, Frynwys is pretty much dead in terms of excitement or adventure. In fact the most activity we've had recently has been the restoration of a path which took shorter than expected.

That's not to say nothing of note ever happens here. I've previously mentioned the incident in which a terrapin was released into the local pond, and before that a Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey flew over my house during the NATO summit in Newport back in 2014. With this in mind, I think it's time I covered all the interesting and positively riveting goings on of Frynwys in this new feature.

So what's been happening in Frynwys recently? Let's start things off with a familiar theme. It seems the pond has become a hive of activity over these last few weeks, especially since the frogs have spawned and their eggs are frothing in clusters on the banks. Then, as I was walking past the pond the other day, I noticed some large orange shapes moving close to the surface. It took me a second to realise that they were carp of some kind, and that yet again someone had released fish into the pond. The last time this happened the fish were removed by the warden in charge of looking after the village's wild land, and a sign was put up explaining the effect of the fish on the pond's ecology and asking for the perpetrator to come forward. I wonder if they'll do the same when they discover several large carp in the pond. The frogspawn will certainly provide them with an easy food source, which will lead to an angry warden indeed.

Elsewhere in Frynwys, I encountered a strange situation by the park at the bottom of the village. I was walking past there headed to another street, and saw a woman and her two children (who I estimate were about four or five years old). The children were swinging on the swings as children that age do, but as I walked past them they suddenly started screeching the chorus to the song 'Heathens' by Twenty One Pilots. The opening lyric of said chorus startled me, but I didn't expect them to launch into the rest of the song, which they proceeded to do. I take it most people by now are familiar with the film Suicide Squad, and that 'Heathens' is a song written for and closely associated with said film. Thus the lyrics are to do with psychopaths, murderers, and is general a gloomy song which nonetheless I think is quite a good one if a bit overplayed during 2016. As I left the kids were still singing it, and their mother seemed completely oblivious. Not that I have anything against children singing 'Heathens', but I couldn't help but be surprised that the parent didn't seem to notice the song's content.

Closer to home, my street to be exact, some of our neighbours have moved out. They were the longest resident homeowners on our street, with my family not far behind in second place. Now, since one of them has retired, they decided to move with their two cocker spaniels to a house in Cornwall. It makes perfect sense; I've often thought about retiring to the coast in the future, although that is an incredibly long-term plan since I'm nowhere near retirement age. Still, their departure now leaves my family the longest-serving residents on our street, which is a bit of an odd feeling.

And finally, in the only other noteworthy bit of news I've managed to accumulate, a friend of mine is getting engaged. This is particularly noteworthy to me at least, because this is a friend I went to primary school with in the nearby school. We parted ways after I was sent to a school in Newport and he was sent to the local comprehensive, but we've kept in touch over the years. Now that he's engaged, the passage of time has suddenly become clearly evident to me. I can remember most of my school days with precise clarity, and it only feels like we were there just the other day. Funny how everyone grows up.

That concludes this first installment of Frynwys Features. I suspect there will be more to come from this segment, but given the slow and quiet nature of life in this little backwater, it might take a while.

The Tiger Poet vs. a Terrapin

So Frnywys has been livelier than usual. Last weekend I got involved in a strange incident, which is saying something as strange incidents in Frynwys often equate to really trivial things. However this time it was truly strange, as it involved a terrapin.

Frynwys has a small area of wild land at the bottom of the village. It's not enough to warrant reserve status, but it's home to some wildlife including a pair of buzzards which nest in the nearby trees, fish, frogs and the occasional heron. Given this is fairly typical fauna to find in an area like this, you can imagine my confusion when I spotted a terrapin in the pond.

It was swimming in amongst reeds and pondweed, and when I saw frogspawn near the bank I wondered momentarily if the terrapin had been attracted to the pond by the prospect of a feast. Whatever frogs were in the pond at the time disappeared when I approached but the terrapin stayed. In fact it swam up to me and poked its tiny head out of the water to stare at me. I asked it (which seems a self-defeating exercise) what it was doing in the pond, and then it dived and its brown shell blended in with the muddy water.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I came to the obvious conclusion that someone had released the terrapin into the pond. It wouldn't be the first time; there was a previous incident where someone had released fish into the pond which proceeded to consume the tadpoles, but this was something else. The fact that the reptile had approached me indicated that it was familiar with people, but there wasn't a lot I could do. I thought about trying to capture it so that I could take it home and look after it until someone came to collect it, but I had nothing on me useful to catching terrapins.

So I left. When I got home I told my father about it, and we realised that if we left the terrapin in the pond it could potentially freeze. We're not quite out of winter yet, and I was not confident about the cold-blooded animal's chances when the temperature dropped. With this in mind, we grabbed a bucket and a long pole and headed back to the pond. Just as we were about to reach it, we spotted three teenagers, equipped with small fishing nets and a box, coming the other way. When they saw us they attempted to move out of sight, but we approached and asked if they had caught a terrapin. They told us that they had, albeit it somewhat tentatively, and then we explained the situation. It turned out they had the terrapin in the box and were taking it back to its home; one of the houses in the street behind the forest. Satisfied that the matter was resolved we left.

Is there a moral to this story? Not from a poet's point of view maybe. We deduced afterwards that the terrapin had been released into the pond during the day, if not by the teenagers than by one of their relatives, and they had set out to retrieve it when they returned home after school. I suspect that the teenagers had tried to hide from us because they thought we might have been nature reserve officials. The people in charge of looking after the wild land had acted when fish were released into the pond, putting up a sign explaining the damage and asking for the perpetrator to contact them. Maybe the teenagers were worried about reprisals from wildlife officials and decided to remove the terrapin before any lasting damage was done.

All this resulted in was just an unusual break from the daily pattern of life here in Frynwys. From a purely practical standpoint, the lesson to take away from this strange incident is obvious. Don't release pets into the wild. Not just terrapins, but any domestic animal really. Fortunately, the frogs didn't appear to notice, and the pond can go on being undisturbed. At least until a heron shows up looking for a free lunch.