The Other Thomas

Poet R.S. Thomas

On this Good Friday, we also celebrate 100 years since the birth of R.S. Thomas, one of Wales' greatest poets. (He was also an Anglican priest.) It has been said that Thomas found communicating with God hard, indeed many even thought him an athiest but I think this is to miss the point completely. Read his works and you will soon discover that Thomas used his poetry to reveals his 'version' of God. A God that shows Himself in small doses if you will, through nature which was featured heavily in his beautiful work.
Work, that much like my own poetry, was not written with a solid idea or agenda in mind before putting pen to paper, but words and imagery that unfolded as soon as he wrote. What I like to call 'living poetry'. It really is a joy to read.

Night Sky by R.S. Thomas

What they are saying is
that there is life there, too:
that the universe is the size it is
to enable us to catch up.

They have gone on from the human:
that shining is a reflection
of their intelligence. Godhead
is the colonisation by mind

of untenanted space. It is its own
light, a statement beyond language
of conceptual truth. Every night
is a rinsing myself of the darkness

that is in my veins. I let the stars inject me
with fire, silent as it is far,
but certain in its cauterising
of my despair. I am a slow

traveller, but there is more than time
to arrive. Resting in the intervals
of my breathing, I pick up the signals
relayed to me from a periphery I comprehend.

When Sky Lights Scramble A Wired Brain

UFO? What I saw.

I am no fan of Star Trek and space capers so im not one quick to subscribe to stories of UFOs and alien abduction. Indeed much of it I look at as the crazy ramblings of drunkards and attention seekers, eager to find their way into those late night news slots after the important events have been covered and they're looking for light entertainment. Of course this doesn't necessarily mean I discard tales of "little green men" completely. In fact I honestly-to-my-bones don't believe we are alone in this universe, of course I don't, afterall the universe is a pretty vast place and there must be SOMETHING else out there, even its just different coloured grass. These has to be life elsewhere.
But I don't go around (like some do) believing that every strange light the the nighttime sky is down to E.T. Remember, the military have some pretty neat looking pieces of flying kit which can seem very alien to the civilian eye. Especially a civilian brought up on Star Wars and Dr Who. Imagination is a powerful thing, with no limit to the amount of weird images that can be conjured up. When the sun goes down, a science fiction fan can easily transform a Chinook helicopter into the Millenium Falcon. My minds eye is not as easily fooled.
However on the evening of November 17th, 2009 at around 11pm, I DID witness something strange in the sky. Admittedly one might put it down to the fact I had been at the scotch but I was not falling down drunk and seeing things. Also my wife was at my side and she rarely drinks. No this was something....different. If it convinced me it must have been because even when merry on whisky im not one to be persuaded by unicorns and yetis. As we both stood shocked, I couldn't quite orchestrate my thoughts. There was no fear (probably the booze helped there) and no instant panic. Just silence as we watched this craft hover for around two or three minutes. It was made all the more intense because we live on a hill in a very rural area so the only light came from this glassy looking beast, there are no other house lights, streetlights or traffic to catch and maybe confuse the eye.
Other people who have witnessed UFOs have reported hearing low humming sounds but there was no sound to this curious sight on a usually very uneventful Carmarthenshire hillside.
As for colours, I have always imagined UFOs to be neon green and red thanks to a spinning toy I had as a boy but as you can see in my shabbily drawn sketch (made on my computers painting programme) this one was mainly orange and yellow with streaks of light blue. The orange was most vivid and is most 'alive' im my mind when I picture it.
It disappeared as quickly as it arrived and left me, the cynic supreme, with a new appreciation of just how wild and wonderful this life, this universe is.

World Poetry Day

Its World Poetry Day today so thought I would share a couple of my pieces with you. Mwynhewch! Enjoy!


Dim Haul Dros Gleision (No Sun Over Gleision)

There was no sun that day
when four miners lights went out for good;
the cave mouth stretched into an endless hymn
as hawks and kinder birds carved the sky
to guide spirits to their rest.
Heroes of an unforgiving underworld,
the earthly tomb,
kingdom of the black.
While I and all of Wales tipped hands to God
four blinded roots were pulled
and the red dragon's one lifted claw
was raised a little higher in honour of the men.
Gartref bois! Home!
From the eyeless santuary of the pit
to the Valleys call,
our father's land
where you will have the symphony of a nation's hearts
to sing you to your rest,

A bydd yr haul ddim farw nawr...
(and the sun won't die now)

© Steven Francis poems 2011

In loving memory of Phillip Hill, Charles Breslin, David Powell and Garry Jenkins, rest in peace my Welsh brothers. Hedd Perfaith Hedd.

**** The Furnace Fields ****

As I close my eyes at troubled times
I am welcomed back to the Furnace fields,
that holy land
where wood fell over itself to be wood
and wild was the beauty like fires over California.
Furnace fields!, live long inside my dreadlocked mind,
grow snakes and newts in crispy ferns
to guard against the wretched clock.
Offer me a pond so that I may sink into oblivion,
flushing tyres and telephones from a plastic bowel;
bury me oh mighty field
let my siren be quiet within those fishy roots...

@ Steven Francis poems 2011

Inspired by the old Furnace fields in Burry Port

Wales Win (again)

WINNING!

Dai iawn Cymru fach! 2013 6 Nations rugby champions! Lets remind ourselves of the full time score shall we: Wales 30 England 3. The wheels of the chariot fell OFF OFF OFF lulz as they say on teh internet. Da iawn eto Cymru!

St Plastics Day

Right on!

It is that time of year again when thousands of non Irish (or Irish because a great great uncle once removed was) pretend to be Ireland's favourite son. *Sigh* St Patrick's Day has become as bloated as Halloween and Christmas. An obscene parody of Irish played through the eyes of plastic 'Irishmen' and for a Celt it makes for uncomfortable viewing because it feels like our race, our traditions are being poked fun at by the mindless hordes. Believe you me, a pub full of grown adults dressed as Leprechauns singing out of tune Irish rebel songs is a very bitter caricature indeed.
Why do people (Americans in particular) do it? Faux Irish bars bursting at the walls with people guzzling foul looking (and no doubt tasting) green beer and wearing those dreadful "Kiss Me Im Irish" tee shirts. You do realise you are offending the real Irish right? (Although I guess not since you are still doing it.)
Of course there will be a few who think im just being a jealous Welshman, envious of Irelands dominance in the days of patron Saints but not at all! It would make me perfectly sick to my stomach to see St David's Day go the same way as St Patrick's Day. I love Irealnd and visit regularly (its only a short hop from Wales) and though Irish folk are the most welcoming and friendly people you are ever likely to meet on this planet, I know that some get mightily annoyed by 'bandwagon jumpers' on St Patrick's Day. And quite right too! Hell for the other 364 days of the year they don't give a toss about Ireland. It goes beyond fake and divebombs straight into cringeworthy. Give your heads a shake!

But to all on the beautiful Emerald Isle I say, Go bhfillead go hÉirinn go brách ! You'll know its for you as you wont have to use Google translate.

The Tonypandy Terror

‎It has been one hundred years today since the birth of Wales' finest boxers (or one of them), the Rhondda born fighter Tommy Farr. Known as the "Tonypandy Terror", he became British & Empire heavyweight champion on 15 March 1937. Few (re: none) would argue his deserved lofty place in the ranks of greatest British hevyweights.

On 30 August 1937, Tommy gained the respect of the boxing world when for a whopping purse of $60,000 (a huge amount in those days), he fought world heavyweight champion Joe Louis at the Yankee Stadium in New York, and despite losing out due to a controversial points decision after 15 rounds, his place in sporting history was set forever. Never forget that the "Brown Bomber" (and these nicknames are delicious to a writer) was one of the greatest heavyweights of all time, who had knocked out 8 of his previous 9 opponents (and KO'd the next 7) but that mattered not a jot as the Bomber was mercilessly pumelled and hurt by the Tonypandy Terror in one of the hardest battles of his life.
The crowd thought Farr had won. And evidently referee Arthur Donovan did too because he was seen shaking Farr's hand after the bout, seemingly congratulating the Welsh fighter on a job well done. The 50,000 audience booed when Louis was awarded the narrow points decision.

Thanks to the wonders of video (with a nod to Youtube) you can watch it all here. Tommy Farr died in 1986 on St. David's Day aged 72 but he lives on in the hearts and memories and Welshmen and fight fans the world over. Long live the Tonypandy Terror! Cymru Am Byth.

Halo Of Death

Thrill Kill?

In the Mail today there is a story about the Navy SEAL who killed Osama Bin Laden. Got no problem so far. Until I scroll to the middle part of the story and im faced with this;
"'That time I used my EOTech red-dot holo sight. He was dead. Not moving. His tongue was out. I watched him take his last breaths, just a reflex breath.
'And I remember as I watched him breathe out the last part of air, I thought: Is this the best thing I've ever done, or the worst thing I've ever done? This is real and that's him. Holy sh**. 'His forehead was gruesome. It was split open in the shape of a V. I could see his brains spilling out over his face."

Heavens to Betsy Ross! He sounds like he actually enjoyed it! Was there need to be so graphic in the details? Who on earth wants to read such grim descriptions? Go read a Mo Hayder novel if that is your thing, she's quite brilliant in her own deviant way at painting grisly scenes of gore and brain spillage (and thats not criticism, im a big Mo fan.)
In this last decade or so it seems to be the done thing for ex military to reveal all in their memoirs but must we know everything? Is the public really desperate to learn about brains spilling over dying faces? I would have thought we get enough of that from Hollywood. And before readers begin to think im some yoghurt knitting liberal, I am not (in fact im as far from liberal as you could ever hope to find,) im simply questioning the apparent need to mop up every bullet and drop of blood from the battlefield like some excitable teenager playing Call Of Duty.

For myself, Id prefer to be spared the details thank you very much. You know what they say, less is more.

Cry Me A Rivers

Joan was unavailable for photos

So Joan Rivers appeared on David Letterman’s show and called cockney songbird Adele "fat". She joked: “What is her song? Rolling In The Deep? She should add Fried Chicken.” And our tabloids have rushed to Adele's defence like the guardians of morality they surely are *cough*
Excuse me but have they forgotten that Joan is a comedian? And besides having a pop at others, she isn't afraid to include herself in the pee~taking, in fact she routinely pokes fun at herself so it isn't like she's afraid to taste her own medicine. Let's not forget, Britain has birthed its fair share of near-the-knuckle comics from Monty Python to Bernard Manning. Go seek out out an early Manning show (probably on Youtube) and see for thyself, but be warned, make sure theres no ethnic minorities or even the elderly nearby.
I will be the first to admit that Joan was bang out of order with the Holocaust/Klum remark, that was totally wrong but her comments toward Adele were in my opinion pretty tame and although I can't speak for Adele, if it was me they were aimed at then I wouldn't have a problem. (And im sure the singer feels the same, afterall she's a Brit like me, we have thick skins and take the mickey out of each all the time.) Being called fat? No drama.
Folks ought to know by now that Ms Rivers has an acerbic wit and most annoying is the fact that Americans have nobody who is able to stand up to her with razor sharp repartee. Imagine a scenario of Joan and Sir Winston Churchill together onstage? That would be awesome to behold! Remember the exchanges between Sir Winnie and Lady Nancy Astor? Google them if you don't and you will see what I mean.

By the way I can't believe Joan was born in 1931. She looks fabulous for 79! Yes yes, we are all aware she has had cosmetic surgery but seriously, it doesn't bother me a jot. I think she looks stunning. In fact having just been browsing photos of her in younger days, Id say she looks better today. Good for Joan, and I for one applaud her sense of humour.

Happy St. David's Day All!

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Sant hapus i chi gyd! Happy Saint David's Day everyone! Mr Jakes will sadly be missing out on the Cawl because I had more than my fair share of the Welsh Manna yesterday (and Duw it was great) but there will be Welshcakes for tea and seeing as its friday, a few pints of Felinfoel Ale for supper.

To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.

Taken from the poem "In Passing" written in 1967 by Brian Harris

God bless St. David and God bless Wales