While I Write and Breathe...A Poem by David Lewis PagetI feel my mother's Welsh blood in everything I do...Every time I hold this pen
I feel some moving spirit stir,
Like mist in distant valleys, pouring
Down from Snowdon's druid lair.
Down along
The deep Welsh valleys,
Through the blood of ancient cells,
Seeking, ever seeking knowledge,
Stored within the Book of Kells.
Late at night
I well remember
You, hunched at your crystal ball,
Gazing ever deep at shadows,
Haunting you, from times before.
Born from out
The Mabinogi,
Steeped in myth and songs unsung,
Caught your whispered Celtic tales from
Taliesin's silvered tongue.
Once you rose
In Aberavon,
Building fires before the dawn,
You, long weaned on dragon's milk
Could spell each witch, or evil-born.
When you grew
They travelled with you,
Dreams and myths and second sight,
Gypsies turned and crossed themselves
When meeting you at past-midnight.
You, who taught me
How to scribe
The signs and portents of our fate,
I hold the pen, you hold my hand
And pen the words I dissipate.
Though you've gone
To roam the valleys,
Haunt the chalets of your kin,
I see you stare from out the crystal,
Every time my gaze stares in.
Mother, you are
Old and weathered,
Long gone from this mortal shore,
Still your blood revives my palette,
Paints your colours at my core.
Paints your colours,
Chants your passions
Traces all your patterns here,
You will never be forgotten
While I write and breathe, my dear!
David Lewis Paget
© 2012 David Lewis PagetReviews
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2 Reviews Added on March 8, 2008 Last Updated on June 27, 2012 Author
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