Rhiwbina Living

poetry
Poems penned by the local community
NO-MOW SUMMER
A polite suburban no-no.
Old mowers on go-slow.
Pianissimo.
The bowling green no longer
"Comme il faut,"
For longer is the educated,
Rated, stated - the hype of stripes old hat -
"Status Quo."
Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow.
Be a bumble bee impresario
Apropos
An insect's mojo
Apropos
The sward's proposal for
A norm of swarms,
And wingey thing that
Sting,
Unsung -
And throng.
Let the shearers reappear.
Let the meadow overthrow
Slick Sunday - bracered blades.
Let the scythe arrive.
Let the buttercups and yellow vetches
Thrive. Accolades!
Let the trove of nature's giving
Salve and save forlorn lawns shorn.
And so, "Bravissimo,"
Let it grow, let it grow, let it grow.
Nigel Phillips
Whitchurch
BARRY HARBOUR
IN JULY
I saunter past the Ship Inn
And the boat which is now a
flowerbed
Sporting a magical kaleidoscope
of colour.
The wrecked boats in the harbour
Have yet to be removed yet I
sense their ghosts
As people try to restrain excited
dogs
On this warm summer's day by
the seaside
As I watch a tanker and seagulls
glide.
It is low tide on Barry Harbour;
The sun paints the placid estuary
silver
And the Quantock Hills are
perfectly clear
As my shadow lingers at my side.
I travel to the water's edge
Where half-hearted waves sizzle
on the shore
Then I wander past the grey
harbour wall
Which unlike myself, has not
aged at all.
Guy Fletcher
Pantmawr
Rhiwbina
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