Roots

Llanwrtyd Eisteddfod, 2025 (2nd prize)

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Stone sits, still

and silent in the gentle pulse

of valley streams

and the hills hold hymns

hallowed and haloed

by centuries

of bardic verse.

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Caves of coal

cradle indigo veins

that pulse with the pride

of hard working men

who dreamt of rivers

and rain and rhyme

and choices with hindsight,

while wise chapel words

wound through the weft

of their worries.

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Their language lingers

like liqueur on lips;

like light in the home porch;

like hiraeth and love.

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Up top where the land is a loom

all sea thread, slate thread.

lichen and legend;

a bride and a groom

dressed in dragon’s breath

make plans for a shelf

full of memories they’ll share

when they’re eighty.

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and always and always

the roots remain,

tangled in truth

and the tongue of the land.

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The writings, the songs

the poets, the singers

the language the people

all planted boot deep

in the grain and the veins

and the granite.

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