WALES – LAND OF KINDNESS

by Blaine Scott – Bard 2023

In the rolling green hills that seemed to not end

Were families: Jones, Davies, Roderick, and Reese.

These were among the best you will ever befriend,

Along with Williams, Hodge, Price, Morse, and Preece.

These were some of my ancestors coming from Wales,

A country on the Celtic Sea.

I’m learning their stories and capturing the details

From the Great Orme Mines to Swansea.

They worked in the coal mines to earn their keep;

They started to work when they were still young.

The mines where they worked were cold and deep.

The coal dust would seep into their lungs.

They were known as colliers; in the mines they would go.

Their wages were meager at best.

When they would get hurt or their lamp oil was low,

They would finally get to go home and rest.

I enjoy the food that my ancestors would eat:

Leeks, bara, Welsh cakes, and sausage.

The stew was lamb cawl, which was made with lamb meat

Because with sheep there was never a shortage.

No matter the work or the shortage of food

There was always a smile on their face

As they sang the songs that helped them feel good,

To a Welshman hard work was not a disgrace.

The land of my fathers is loaded with castles,

And the symbol of Wales is a dragon.

I often wonder with all the hassles

Why they would trade all they had for a wagon.

They suffered a lot on the trail coming West;

Some even contracted malaria.

But their trail would end in one of the best

In a community known as Samaria.

My mom taught me to search out my history

And to share the things that I find.

She didn’t want the past to remain a mystery,

So I’m trying to do what I was assigned.

I’m grateful for the examples set by my ancestors,

They would share whatever you need.

To them we were all considered Brothers and
Sisters.

Wales was a land of kindness indeed!

Still They Fly

Candice Lemmon (Dancing Daffodil)

Bard 2024

Some say dragons have ceased to soar

That they’re caged in the pages

of legends penned by men

long  dead

Beasts reduced to ghosts

haunting the whispered tales told

by the bedsides of the wide-eyed

From father to son

Draig to dragon

Our warrior’s force 

Friends not fiends

Flaming red

Swishing through the breeze

Above fields of sprawling green

But when the battle ends

So too, the whispers cease

Ferocious forms fade into the gloom

Raging roars retreat to restless echoes

Wide eyes close

That’s when some suppose

These mighty monsters leave the sky

Banished back through the cracks

The stories split in time

That’s what some believe

But I say

Still they fly

When the light dies

They stalk the starry hunting grounds on high

Shimmering scales

Flashing fangs

Darting, dancing into dawn

It’s then their sharpened claws 

Slash back the blackened skies

Their fiery breath

Igniting the horizon line

And in the day 

these gentle giants guard our land 

Looming over lakes

Pressed into the earth by fearsome footfalls

Burly bodies border speckled fields

Flecked with mounds of gold

Thorny wing-tips forming jagged peaks

Flaring nostrils puffing clouds of smoke

Some say dragons are smoke themselves

Distant whisps of times gone by

Lost to legend

Wing beats silenced

But I say

Still they fly

Dragon Lore

Bob Washburn (Blodwyn Jones)

Patsy Price Scott Poetry Contest Winner 2024

Beyond the boundary barrier blazing

Fearful friends in foul frenzied fight

Find their foe with fuming fire flying

Passionately protecting plundered prizes

Hordes of richest gold and silver

Cups and coins, chests of gems

Weapons won from weaker warriors

Daring damsel in dreadful distress

Ignoring images of infinite inferno

Seeking to save his sovereign’s heir.

Swords and spears splitting scales

Defeat deadly dragon or dinner be

Ageless dragon, agile, and angry

In raging rants refusing to relinquish.

Combat continues till he’s conquered

Wear worthy warrior won

Lasting legends lavish laurels

Trophy teeth and shattered scales

Glorious ballads, songs and poems

History heralds hero’s tales

Cannot calm my constant craving

For his arms to round me fold

Passing time cloaks and covers

Shields me from the memories old