"cwtch" poems - Hello Poetry

Through water and sand, stands you. Spring breaking at you feet Your breath flicking the pages of a street paper A black crown of nightingales at your head Entwined in leaves and wheat trickling down stones in dew-morning light and thrones in brambles of blackberry pie Rooted to firewood and sheer bliss of kissed moonlight Where herons christen Stars before black velvet blanket Bridled by Rosemary and time, caught with Mary in a dark corner Slumped behind priest less ivy, we permeate the air and through blue blooded command and gnashing of teeth, slants me Outside the ramshackle cwtch I the hangmedown barks of woods, kneels you. And stopped around cockles and foundling sparrows, sings the epitaph of a fallen barbarian. Still through desert and carcass, lies you. JWS

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Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 7:29 AM UTC

joe-wiltshire-smith

Black Crown

Through water and sand, stands you. Spring breaking at you feet Your breath flicking the pages of a street paper A black crown of nightingales at your head Entwined in leaves and wheat trickling down stones in dew-morning light and thrones in brambles of blackberry pie Rooted to firewood and sheer bliss of kissed moonlight Where herons christen Stars before black velvet blanket Bridled by Rosemary and time, caught with Mary in a dark corner Slumped behind priest less ivy, we permeate the air and through blue blooded command and gnashing of teeth, slants me Outside the ramshackle cwtch I the hangmedown barks of woods, kneels you. And stopped around cockles and foundling sparrows, sings the epitaph of a fallen barbarian. Still through desert and carcass, lies you. JWS

13

Hurt….. By silence Unanswered questions Harsh words A look A false smile Glazed eyes Sad eyes A wanted touch A unwanted touch No emotion in a cwtch A hard hand All these and more Are served with or without intent Consequences vary Both parties feel the pain The confusion The misunderstanding So why hurt…… It just the human condition To feel and be hurt.

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Dec 5, 2012

Dec 5, 2012 at 3:39 AM UTC

mary-stanworth

Hurt

Hurt….. By silence Unanswered questions Harsh words A look A false smile Glazed eyes Sad eyes A wanted touch A unwanted touch No emotion in a cwtch A hard hand All these and more Are served with or without intent Consequences vary Both parties feel the pain The confusion The misunderstanding So why hurt…… It just the human condition To feel and be hurt.

21

We’re waiting for you, little pearl, not that we need you to rush take your time as the arms to catch you will cwtch forever Your mama has laid layer and layer of love on you, egg-shell cautious love So be rambunctious on arrival and we’ll mostly forgive sleepless nights Just come little pearl come in little girl our world awaits x

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Dec 22, 2021

Dec 22, 2021 at 4:01 AM UTC

drunkenkind

Say uncle

We’re waiting for you, little pearl, not that we need you to rush take your time as the arms to catch you will cwtch forever Your mama has laid layer and layer of love on you, egg-shell cautious love So be rambunctious on arrival and we’ll mostly forgive sleepless nights Just come little pearl come in little girl our world awaits x

12

There, but for the grace of God, go I A girl with no name With a look of desolate embarrassed shame Laid on a makeshift bed in the quiet alley But tonight, it's not so quiet Crowds of well-to-do fortunates Are making their way to a Concert A small dog nestles down Onto a cwtch made of stone He's her only lively company On this hellish desolate journey Whatever is wrong Here, there is no beautiful song Society has failed The girl that's derailed How many turned to look away from her bed? How many quiet tears were shed? How many ignored? How many cringed? How many felt guilt seeing her ***** quilt? How many cared For the girl with no name With the look of desolate embarrassed shame? She's now adopted a blank stare as she asks "Any change spare?" So tonight when you turn in, say a little prayer Because, but for the grace of God, we could be lying there. Written by Kris Prevel June 2014

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Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC

kris-prevel

Homeless

There, but for the grace of God, go I A girl with no name With a look of desolate embarrassed shame Laid on a makeshift bed in the quiet alley But tonight, it's not so quiet Crowds of well-to-do fortunates Are making their way to a Concert A small dog nestles down Onto a cwtch made of stone He's her only lively company On this hellish desolate journey Whatever is wrong Here, there is no beautiful song Society has failed The girl that's derailed How many turned to look away from her bed? How many quiet tears were shed? How many ignored? How many cringed? How many felt guilt seeing her ***** quilt? How many cared For the girl with no name With the look of desolate embarrassed shame? She's now adopted a blank stare as she asks "Any change spare?" So tonight when you turn in, say a little prayer Because, but for the grace of God, we could be lying there. Written by Kris Prevel June 2014

29

This ground was thirsty by god thirsty been cracking and cursing for months with only the vaguest hunch of a possible deluge so these rains were drunk in abandonment and the angry soil has yielded soft underfoot, a sole cwtch to be savoured, felt the stream, so feeble last week has remembered its fatness, wetness, strength recalling a bearing thoughts are borne once again with vigour to the constant sea

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May 9, 2021

May 9, 2021 at 8:44 AM UTC

drunkenkind

Precipitation

This ground was thirsty by god thirsty been cracking and cursing for months with only the vaguest hunch of a possible deluge so these rains were drunk in abandonment and the angry soil has yielded soft underfoot, a sole cwtch to be savoured, felt the stream, so feeble last week has remembered its fatness, wetness, strength recalling a bearing thoughts are borne once again with vigour to the constant sea

14

Wake! Kokura to a novel world of peace Under the canopy of dark divine clouds A million deaths and a zillion days of sufferings Ah! Flown to a distant land While the holy hands patting your shoulders Away Nagasaki crying, … a loud ghostly cry.. When the fat boy shed fireballs from above Flitting shadows unable to find a cwtch Death solidified, melted to florid streams On a boundless billowy sea of hellfire. Murky minds killing unknown souls Burnt alive was innocent, wicked and wise On their knees, a nation bend Away victory cried, … a loud cheerful cry… Ah! Know me first before you please to squander guns, grenades or guillotines At least the cognizant me die in peace, And a better predilection for your choicest blessings. Silent guns are a hackneyed dream Begging only for a better aim Away hope loath to stop, .. a loud wishful cry…

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Aug 16, 2020

Aug 16, 2020 at 4:49 AM UTC

srjenish1

Cry of a City

Wake! Kokura to a novel world of peace Under the canopy of dark divine clouds A million deaths and a zillion days of sufferings Ah! Flown to a distant land While the holy hands patting your shoulders Away Nagasaki crying, … a loud ghostly cry.. When the fat boy shed fireballs from above Flitting shadows unable to find a cwtch Death solidified, melted to florid streams On a boundless billowy sea of hellfire. Murky minds killing unknown souls Burnt alive was innocent, wicked and wise On their knees, a nation bend Away victory cried, … a loud cheerful cry… Ah! Know me first before you please to squander guns, grenades or guillotines At least the cognizant me die in peace, And a better predilection for your choicest blessings. Silent guns are a hackneyed dream Begging only for a better aim Away hope loath to stop, .. a loud wishful cry…

24

Melancholy ain't making me poetical, Instead, more panglossian! I need thy cwtch for now and I'll show how the rest of it is played with boisterous swagger Kicking back those icy fangs. *** Don't tell me there's a twist again! Come on! Burst the bubble! *** Every bowl has its day Forget not! Aaha now that's why i say: "LIFE IN A FINGER BOWL" The one in winter, most cosiest!! Oh u didn't understand ? It's ok. Don't have to !! Not everything is ment to be understood

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Dec 31, 2019

Dec 31, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC

Rose

Thy cwtch!

Melancholy ain't making me poetical, Instead, more panglossian! I need thy cwtch for now and I'll show how the rest of it is played with boisterous swagger Kicking back those icy fangs. *** Don't tell me there's a twist again! Come on! Burst the bubble! *** Every bowl has its day Forget not! Aaha now that's why i say: "LIFE IN A FINGER BOWL" The one in winter, most cosiest!! Oh u didn't understand ? It's ok. Don't have to !! Not everything is ment to be understood

15

As the basking warmth of the sun Comes cascading through the blinds It finds itself cast on still, rested souls Serene and calm, no rest disturbed Cwtch, a word from a wondrous place An intimate moment, two’s safest space To hold, and be held Seldom seen, but always shared She rolled over and pulled me close Her hand on my chest, my heart rate rose This feeling was always undersold So hard to find, or so I’m told That same warming sun Now shimmering through her hair That cute messy bun No makeup, I do not care Now she wakes and opens her eyes A greyish blue With a sparkling hue They look back into mine Transfixed, I smile I say something nice It’s probably too much But I don’t think twice The hours roll by No need to move I wait for my moment Overthinking it through Reciprocated in kind Why did I wait so long? Missing every **** sign But now there’s no wrong Two souls entwined Not urgent, not laboured Just passion savoured Nothing fancy, nothing forced Ain’t lost in the sauce Soft and sweet Enjoyed to the end At some point I must go Another day Another time We’ll be back there again Cwtching till the light Comes back through the blinds

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May 27, 2018

May 27, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC

BT_Flann

Someone New

As the basking warmth of the sun Comes cascading through the blinds It finds itself cast on still, rested souls Serene and calm, no rest disturbed Cwtch, a word from a wondrous place An intimate moment, two’s safest space To hold, and be held Seldom seen, but always shared She rolled over and pulled me close Her hand on my chest, my heart rate rose This feeling was always undersold So hard to find, or so I’m told That same warming sun Now shimmering through her hair That cute messy bun No makeup, I do not care Now she wakes and opens her eyes A greyish blue With a sparkling hue They look back into mine Transfixed, I smile I say something nice It’s probably too much But I don’t think twice The hours roll by No need to move I wait for my moment Overthinking it through Reciprocated in kind Why did I wait so long? Missing every **** sign But now there’s no wrong Two souls entwined Not urgent, not laboured Just passion savoured Nothing fancy, nothing forced Ain’t lost in the sauce Soft and sweet Enjoyed to the end At some point I must go Another day Another time We’ll be back there again Cwtching till the light Comes back through the blinds

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A warm cwtch A safe place A smiling face.

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Feb 16, 2022

Feb 16, 2022 at 8:33 AM UTC

rose-hopkins

Love is..........

A warm cwtch A safe place A smiling face.

3

The rose bud clasps tight to its long lonely stem sheltering from the cold wind and the winter mayhem The spring sun shines so brightly is it time to parade as the cloud covers over to give it some shade Then around about elevenses it opens its display leaving the people smiling for the rest of the day It bows so graciously in the light shallow breeze and waves at the audience, boastfully if you please As the sun sets slowly we still marvel at its delight then watch it cwtch up tightly asleep for the night

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May 26, 2023

May 26, 2023 at 9:17 AM UTC

terence-james-potter

The garden rose

The rose bud clasps tight to its long lonely stem sheltering from the cold wind and the winter mayhem The spring sun shines so brightly is it time to parade as the cloud covers over to give it some shade Then around about elevenses it opens its display leaving the people smiling for the rest of the day It bows so graciously in the light shallow breeze and waves at the audience, boastfully if you please As the sun sets slowly we still marvel at its delight then watch it cwtch up tightly asleep for the night

10

I ate the whole world to find you. Yesterday, and days before, these are just bohemian villages to me, where a boy flies a blue kite, sees the sun on your back and rainclouds in synecdoche. Today, tomorrow, but mostly today, when the clogs blossom yellow daffodils that hide bare hairy heels, bold and black as Twiggy mascara. A thousand phone calls later, there won't be an answer. For all our intermissions were like cancer ward smoke breaks. Purple hands stained yellow, with a dark blue mouth saying, "Hold me, please just hold me". Even if just for the warmth, warmth which was lacking here, as cold as inside Russian tanks. We hugged, with all the surprise and violence as an acid attack on supermodels face, we hugged. Then after that, tried as Latvian money, half-alive in a ditch pining over you, the way a cat's tongue pines for milk and breadcrumbs, Tasted like salt, they did, The tears that were shed, Giving drinks to the mice.

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Jun 26, 2020

Jun 26, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC

jamie-f-nugent

Cwtch

I ate the whole world to find you. Yesterday, and days before, these are just bohemian villages to me, where a boy flies a blue kite, sees the sun on your back and rainclouds in synecdoche. Today, tomorrow, but mostly today, when the clogs blossom yellow daffodils that hide bare hairy heels, bold and black as Twiggy mascara. A thousand phone calls later, there won't be an answer. For all our intermissions were like cancer ward smoke breaks. Purple hands stained yellow, with a dark blue mouth saying, "Hold me, please just hold me". Even if just for the warmth, warmth which was lacking here, as cold as inside Russian tanks. We hugged, with all the surprise and violence as an acid attack on supermodels face, we hugged. Then after that, tried as Latvian money, half-alive in a ditch pining over you, the way a cat's tongue pines for milk and breadcrumbs, Tasted like salt, they did, The tears that were shed, Giving drinks to the mice.

39