This poem was written in 2009 by a friend of mine, David Jones of Merthyr. He hated reading in public regarding it as complete torture both for him and the listeners but over a pint with a few friends he could be persuaded to share his work which was embedded in the rich tradition of Anglo-Welsh poetry. Wonderfully descriptive of Welsh life and the natural rhythms and seasons of the Welsh countryside. Despite friends urging him to do so he never submitted any work for publication regarding the writing and reading of poetry as a personal and intimate pleasure rather than any kind of ‘profession’.
I thought I would share this example of his work on my blog. I have only a few of his poems and wish I had more but he regarded them as ephemera and often infuriated us by confessing to have lost the only copy of something he had written. I can only hope that others of his friends have also kept some of his work since this humble and joyful poet deserves to be remembered.
Me, the Cat and Dannie Abse
There’s a small audience
high backed pews cast shadows of emptiness
on white washed walls.
A tousled haired Dannie Abse
Welsh jew – preaches poetry
from the pulpit of nonconformity
free verse set in tablets of stone
I notice a cat walking up the aisle
a street wise walk, haughty, tail up
tousle haired tabby. Stops. Leaps up
nuzzling in to my thigh
he purrs contentedly. Drinking in words
through the black slits of his eyes,
mesmerised. And I think only
of blood-sucking jumping fleas.
Dannie reads ‘In the Theatre’
The cat becomes agitated
at the words ‘brain-mashed’
he sinks his claws in the varnished wood.
Until suddenly, ‘You sod leave my soul alone’
pirouttes him in the air with a shriek
and he is gone through the slit of the door
into black tumoured night.
Dannie stammers and then moves on
‘Leave my soul alone,
Leave my soul alone’.