I’m happy to have had two of my poems printed in the Welsh poetry magazine run by @originalplus. Here below are the first two stanzas of ‘Flit’ and the first three of ‘For Sons of Daughters’.
Old lore it was – a form of love –
that held a mode for living.
Heed fast the roles to follow
through en-route, ascension, heaven.
Band rates survived the loss of life;
a ledge for new fry flew anew,
as it then done – respectful sons –
a guided stance with atrophied moves.
For Sons of Daughters
Pick up the pegs, avoid her bend
is my sole thought when I survey
these colours splashed outside their house:
this rained-down game, no box or rules.
Might next-door spurn this plastic vommed,
not corralled right, but they, their backs,
look well-broke scrat, corners
There’s scant chance of a friendly wave
as each follows their own standard,
flower tips afore brought Eid meals with
hasty greetings only then thrown.
If you want to read the whole of both poems, and other great work, visit https://thesamsmith.webs.com to discover how to subscribe.