Submissions by lendavies (Len davies)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Introduce myself as a poet? The short answer is I can't because I don't think I am. I try to make things rhyme, and flow in a way that pleases me. If some of it pleases others along the way, then perhaps I may be learning to do things right
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
13th Mar 2013 10:00pm
13th Mar 2013 10:00pm
THE NIGHTHUNTER
A coalmining village in a valley in South Wales during the 1950’s.
“Get up off that doorstep you’ll give yourself piles” Mam said as she stepped over me giving one of her smiles as she turned up the hill towards the shop clutching her ration book and an almost empty purse. The patch in the arse of my trousers did nothing to quell the cold coming from that thick grey stone doorstep. It was still damp from her scrubbing and polishing with a slate. I never noticed my bum was cold until she mentioned it as I had been daydreaming. Not...
“Get up off that doorstep you’ll give yourself piles” Mam said as she stepped over me giving one of her smiles as she turned up the hill towards the shop clutching her ration book and an almost empty purse. The patch in the arse of my trousers did nothing to quell the cold coming from that thick grey stone doorstep. It was still damp from her scrubbing and polishing with a slate. I never noticed my bum was cold until she mentioned it as I had been daydreaming. Not...
719 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Jan 2013 11:43pm
13th Jan 2013 11:43pm
Bloody Sisters
Its around 1952.…ish and a Saturday night. Mam and Dad are at The Picture Palace in Treharris and would not arrive home until 10-50pm on the last bus back to the depot in Merthyr.
Saturday Nights Theatre was coming on the wireless starting at 9-15pm and I had asked them before they left if I could stay up to listen to it.
It always finished at 10-45pm just before they were due to arrive home which was past my normal bedtime. They said it would be fine as long as I went up to bed without a fuss as soon as they got home. 10-00pm was my normal bedtime but I would miss the second half...
Saturday Nights Theatre was coming on the wireless starting at 9-15pm and I had asked them before they left if I could stay up to listen to it.
It always finished at 10-45pm just before they were due to arrive home which was past my normal bedtime. They said it would be fine as long as I went up to bed without a fuss as soon as they got home. 10-00pm was my normal bedtime but I would miss the second half...
587 reads
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OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jul 2012 7:05pm
13th Jul 2012 7:05pm
No, She doesn't need an interpreter
Why don’t you pull your stocks up, they are around your ankles again?
Where did she get “stocks” from? Short for stockings or socks maybe?
When she tells you to ”Put that dirty knife into the bosh”, we know she doesn’t mean you to stab some German fella, but to simply place it in the kitchen sink with the rest of the dirty dishes.
Her son drives her around everywhere she wants to go in his car and when he changed it recently, she was asked what car does he have now?
“Oh I’m not sure what it is, all I know is it’s a hunchback”.
Working every morning in the...
Where did she get “stocks” from? Short for stockings or socks maybe?
When she tells you to ”Put that dirty knife into the bosh”, we know she doesn’t mean you to stab some German fella, but to simply place it in the kitchen sink with the rest of the dirty dishes.
Her son drives her around everywhere she wants to go in his car and when he changed it recently, she was asked what car does he have now?
“Oh I’m not sure what it is, all I know is it’s a hunchback”.
Working every morning in the...
788 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
12th May 2012 11:18pm
12th May 2012 11:18pm
The Weeping Willow.
I cut a twelve foot tree down today. Cut down in its prime, by me, the one who planted it just about four years ago. Too near to the house in my humble opinion. I know it was quite small then as it was still in a pot albeit a large one. But I knew how large the tree could grow and thought it should go at the end of the garden, about fifty feet from the house. But she was having none of it. “I want it there where I can see it from the window” she had said. The “she” in question was an elderly relative who’s opinions could be swayed by no one. She was quite taken with it as I had twisted it...
665 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Apr 2012 6:44pm
21st Apr 2012 6:44pm
How to Make a Heavy Smell "lighter".
Beryl and I, out shopping one day
called in the bank for some money
I stood at the back as she drew the cash
and thought I could smell something funny
it’s gas I think, making hell of a stink
so I moved away to a corner
the smell was stronger, making my eyes blink
so I called a cashier to warn her
The manager came and he was quite sure
the gas, he could smell too
I was glad it wasn’t just dog shit
that I had brought in on my shoe
my wife and I had to leave with the others
and the bank was emptied of staff ...
called in the bank for some money
I stood at the back as she drew the cash
and thought I could smell something funny
it’s gas I think, making hell of a stink
so I moved away to a corner
the smell was stronger, making my eyes blink
so I called a cashier to warn her
The manager came and he was quite sure
the gas, he could smell too
I was glad it wasn’t just dog shit
that I had brought in on my shoe
my wife and I had to leave with the others
and the bank was emptied of staff ...
587 reads
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SELF POEM
Published
8th Feb 2012 11:18pm
8th Feb 2012 11:18pm
OPTIMISTIC PESSIMISM
January 1st have come and gone
slipped into the past
the resolutions that I made
I knew just would not last
I don’t know why I bother
it makes me want to scream
and I inhale another cigarette
as tobacco still reigns supreme
my weight is surely dropping
because my waist’s now on my hips
and more than just a glass or two
have passed over my lips
and ah yes, the diets
well they don’t seem to work
could it be because it’s exercise
that I always seem to shirk
it’s 2013 next year
an unlucky number for some
and I expect you’ll...
slipped into the past
the resolutions that I made
I knew just would not last
I don’t know why I bother
it makes me want to scream
and I inhale another cigarette
as tobacco still reigns supreme
my weight is surely dropping
because my waist’s now on my hips
and more than just a glass or two
have passed over my lips
and ah yes, the diets
well they don’t seem to work
could it be because it’s exercise
that I always seem to shirk
it’s 2013 next year
an unlucky number for some
and I expect you’ll...
828 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Jan 2012 10:03pm
21st Jan 2012 10:03pm
ISABELLA
Our Grandson Cameran, a handsome young fella
has just had a sister Mum named Isabella
he loves her to pieces although he plays rough
there’ll be no more siblings, Mum says “Two’s enough”
so she’ll have to play soldiers, rugby, climb trees
come home to mum with cuts on her knees
knock her Bamp’s nails down into the lawn
plastic saw in one hand holding wood she has “sawn”
she’ll want to help Nan, just as Cameran did before
bake cakes in the oven hearing “Don’t touch the door”
only flour and water, they bake really hard
just to feed birds out...
has just had a sister Mum named Isabella
he loves her to pieces although he plays rough
there’ll be no more siblings, Mum says “Two’s enough”
so she’ll have to play soldiers, rugby, climb trees
come home to mum with cuts on her knees
knock her Bamp’s nails down into the lawn
plastic saw in one hand holding wood she has “sawn”
she’ll want to help Nan, just as Cameran did before
bake cakes in the oven hearing “Don’t touch the door”
only flour and water, they bake really hard
just to feed birds out...
770 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jan 2012 8:31pm
16th Jan 2012 8:31pm
THE WALK
Sitting outside our caravan after breakfast one morning enjoying the brilliant sunshine, my wife and I were wondering what to do for the day when suddenly our minds were made up for us. We had sited our van for the season at Llandow Touring Caravan Park between Cowbridge and Llantwit Major in South Wales, just as my daughter and son in law, along with two teenage sons had done with theirs. The boys’ Mam and Dad hadn’t moved far from their van since we arrived a week ago, running the cleaner around, washing their van, cleaning windows, cutting the grass, it was just like being at home. ...
852 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Jan 2012 7:02am
10th Jan 2012 7:02am
Paneful Tears. :- Leading to Lessons for Life.
Raindrops on the windowpane, merging together and running down like tears.
Crying eyes, these windows on the world, not always liking what they see.
Man’s cruelty, his inhumanity toward mankind. The sheer futility of it.
You have something I want, I kill you and I have it.
Someone bigger, stronger than me comes along, they want it, kill me, they have it.
That just about sums it up since the beginning of time.
I think in the right circumstances, we are all capable of killing another human being. Defending your own life or that of a loved one.
Like...
Crying eyes, these windows on the world, not always liking what they see.
Man’s cruelty, his inhumanity toward mankind. The sheer futility of it.
You have something I want, I kill you and I have it.
Someone bigger, stronger than me comes along, they want it, kill me, they have it.
That just about sums it up since the beginning of time.
I think in the right circumstances, we are all capable of killing another human being. Defending your own life or that of a loved one.
Like...
752 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
5th Jan 2012 7:28pm
5th Jan 2012 7:28pm
Buried Treasure
The road through our village was straddled by a street of about 90 houses on either side. One side had the mountain behind, the other side broken half way along with a street of seven houses (where I lived) running down to the small primary school, the railway line, and the river Taff at the bottom of the valley.
Apart from about fifty prefabs and a pub, that was it.
I think the council must have bribed the locals into allowing them to tip their rubbish between the houses and the railway line which was right in front of our house, with a promise that when it was finished and covered...
Apart from about fifty prefabs and a pub, that was it.
I think the council must have bribed the locals into allowing them to tip their rubbish between the houses and the railway line which was right in front of our house, with a promise that when it was finished and covered...
913 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
5th Jan 2012 7:21pm
5th Jan 2012 7:21pm
A Gift From God
Kathleen was a bright child, with two older sisters and two younger brothers. The middle child in a family of seven including her mum and dad. They were a catholic family who decided to move from Ireland in the 50’s to escape “the troubles”, coming to west Wales via the ferry. At first Dad had found work as a farm labourer, but now they had moved up to the valleys where they were just settling in to a house they were renting that had been vacated by a 92 year old gentleman caused by his death. Dad was now working in the local colliery and the children were settling in at the local school so...
1100 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Jan 2012 10:33pm
3rd Jan 2012 10:33pm
" JUDY " version 2.
My Whippet Cross
Poor Judy, so young and immature
the hare far too clever that’s for sure
it rose just as her lead was slipped
through pink heather she soon ripped
along the mountain top they raced
the gap was closing as she chased
Her handler ran to witness her flight
As the hare had turned down out of sight
The dog was getting nearer still
as she chased the hare all down the hill
the hare’s short front legs caused him to lose ground
was the race over? Would he lose to the hound?
as the dog’s teeth were bared now ready to...
Poor Judy, so young and immature
the hare far too clever that’s for sure
it rose just as her lead was slipped
through pink heather she soon ripped
along the mountain top they raced
the gap was closing as she chased
Her handler ran to witness her flight
As the hare had turned down out of sight
The dog was getting nearer still
as she chased the hare all down the hill
the hare’s short front legs caused him to lose ground
was the race over? Would he lose to the hound?
as the dog’s teeth were bared now ready to...
737 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by lendavies (Len davies)
