How Green Is My Valley

[penyou]

How Green Is My Valley
 
How green is my valley the rolling hills and field upon fields of green. It's no ordinary green you know, its the tale of my homeland, the valleys of old, where coal was the currency, if you didn't want to get cold. My valleys and fields of green have turned to visions of black, dust dirt and fumes. The light went out in the Swansea Valley today all the miners families will say. Black as coal didn't you know the darkest color in the rainbow.
 
It's palpable, dark, dank, horrible inkiness.
 
The fossil fuel thrives in Wales if you listen to the miners tales. It's the story of blood, sweat, toil and tears and many a family knows these fears. This is but a little mine, in a valley so sublime, and so my story goes. Clink, clank , clomp goes the miners tool, as they chisel at the rock of fools. 13 years my Poppy was when he first went down the mine, child labour was the fashion then as where the pit ponies for the men, that never saw the light.
 
That palpable, inky darkness with dust so thick it could make you sick.
 
How green is my valley today ? Fathers, father and mothers father where miners. One got trapped for three days solid but lived to tell the tale. Poppy quit and moved on the job had become to stale.
 
The valley is ever green in my heart as the sun beats down the light, there will be a huge welcome in the hillsides if they survive the night. So think of the brave miners and there currency of coal, next time you light a fire and warm your body whole. Think of the hard life of the miner digging up the coal.
 
By Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

Tribute to Gary Jenkins, David Powell, Phillip Hill and Charles Breslin

Annes morning glories died last night as the miners struggled there inward plight, and we awoke to a silvery, cool September Morn.
The Mórrígan took to flight, and flew up into the night, and we were awakened by the ravens death call.
She bears the news of the miners plight, as they struggle to find the light, how nothing is colorful and bright, and how all diminishes and fades to night.Then tells of the journey that they must take, and that she must facilitate. Homeward bound to the underworld of the summer lands, and through the portal, that silvery door, forward beneath and onward to the cavern floor. Its the story of death and rebirth, the light re kindled and of mirth, as the blackness fades away to the light of day. It's the coming of the new morn as the spirit is reborn and summoning the new day.
Now all the little children in Pontardawe Vale, will remember this fateful tale. The struggle of life and inward strife, of the miners in the caverns deep, that make there little hearts so weep, and so the spirit lives on. People gather in the village square, the roads are blocked off and Pontardawe becomes bare. Candles flicker in the night air under the silvery moon for Charles, Gary, Phil and Dai. The time has come nigh to say goodbye, Merry Meet, Merry Part and Merry Meet Again , and at the cross in Pontardawe square a moments silence and a prayer. May you journey safe, and the spirits guide you. Blessed Be xx
 
By Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

Time

Time of life, Time of death , Time of rebirth.

Time of dark night, the moon shining bright, the bonfires ignite, welcoming the pagan rite.

Time the wheel of the year turns again, to summers end, "Samhain" .

Time the harvest brought home to the hearth, away from winters bleak path.

Time the hearths are all lit, kindled by the sacred bonfire pit. As the light gives way to night, the winter returns with all it's might.

Time of Herne god of the wild hunt, lord of woodland and vegetation, he sacrifices himself once more without any hesitation.

Time of the Cerridwen, aspect the crone, who guides us through death and this life's milestone.

Time now of ancestors and spirits, for the veil of the realms is thin and sleek, for those of you who dare and deem to peak.

Time of offerings to the dead, as they pass on the journey they tread.

Time of candles glowing bright, to abate the beings of the night.

Time of life, Time of death, Time of rebirth.

[penyou]

Come Sit By My Hearth



Come sit by my hearth, warm your soul, by kindness of deeds that people show. Feel the warmth, gesture and smile, take a load off for a while.

Come sit by my hearth, feed your soul, watch the glowing embers, dance as coal. 

Come sit by my hearth, let your spirits rise, share your load deep, it would be wise.

Come sit by my hearth, kindled with joy, warm yourself, wont you, rest a wee while. 

Come sit by my hearth, and share with me, the burden in life that afflicts thee.

Come sit by my hearth, the embers dance, your darkest worries float through the trance. 

Come sit by my hearth, let worries fade in night. Today is a new day harken the light.


By
Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

Ever The Moon

Sacred circle mote it be
Silver shadow gleam upon me
Spirits called, thanked and Blessed Be
Moonbeam shine down upon thee
Runes are cast future, present and past
Seers make the magic last
Energies rise into the sky
A widdershins we must go
Starbursts fly across across the sky
Twinkling in ones inward eye
Blessed are we drawing down the moon
Sacred circle gone to soon
Radiant glow a circle of light
In the curtain of the night
Ever changing, ever the same, ever with me i proclaim

By
Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

Morning


Tweeters and chatters welcome the morn
Tv hums with todays weather so warm
The leaves are a fluttering as birds take to flight
Clink, clomp go the pans in the kitchen come what might
As the bannocks fry to crispy delight
The bumble bee stops by to meet and greet
As the dragon flies fly by to gobble street
Energies settle to a new drum
Calmness and tranquility form a new hum

By
Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

Oh The Sunshine Feeling

Oh the sunshine feeling of finally coming home.
The excitement and the fire of burning desire.
To delve into the imagination, the world of the unknown and the know.
The guide that guides me and inspires to go deeper and to darker places, so that my light can filter and grown, like sunlight dapples through the leaves of a tree.
To learn pebble by pebble, and be washed up on the shore where the elements meet.
Oh the sunshine feeling rises in me again, washing over me like a wave. Cleansing.
Passing on the lessons learnt so that i may journey again and finally come home to the sunshine feeling.

By
Penelope Leyson Young

[penyou]

The Drum

The sweet smell of smudges wafts up into the air, mingled with the tabacco we share.
Feel the pounding, pulsating of the drum as the earths vibrations rattle and hum.
Step by step around the circle we go, weaving the magic from the earth below.
Round the circle into trance, compelled to join the communal dance, the banging of the drum step by step in unison.
Twirls and swirls, feathers and beads sway to the hum of the drum together in unison, as bands of colour and light sway on into the night.
Flags held high for all to see represents the tribal clans to me.
The spirits walk among us, as the elder does speak, he tells us to be happy at this joyous meet, as the drum beats ever on and on the ancestral spirits sing there song.

By
Penelope Leyson Young

[wyeuro]

these poems are lovely, penelope. they clearly evoke the spirit of the places you write about. you have a gentle poetic tone too that makes it very pleasant reading. left me feeling enriched.
wy

[penyou]

these poems are lovely, penelope. they clearly evoke the spirit of the places you write about. you have a gentle poetic tone too that makes it very pleasant reading. left me feeling enriched.
wy

Thanks you speak very kindly.

BB