Rex Tyler's Poetry Blog

Marion Evans bought the castle
It sits, looking down
On a gorgeous beach of golden sands
And the quaintest town
a charming little voyage of souls
Pretty painted homes
The estuary is colour matched
With the sky just expect some gnomes
Who frequented the headland castle
900 years ago
When the Normans added stone
All Clearly in the know.

Once a wooden battlement but they
Brought common stone
to shore
Up and protect themselves
Up there bleak and raw

A cavalcade of colour
Beach and sea and green
Farmland and wild garlic
Decorate the scene
We saw a home LLansteffan
Quaint and quiet and cool
A dancing stream gurgled along
An addition just to hear it’s call
A wild and endearing garden
With gunnera growing free
Brought we hear from New Zealand
And now invasively

Looking like some giant
Who liked his crumble sweet
Had sown these humble Māori seeds
To monstrously compete
With local wildness plantain
Dandelion and more
Several little orchids too
Scattered on the floor

The house set back
Of black and white
With gardens to the rear
Steps to take you higher
Contemplatively, to cheer
The soul urge and the heart strings
Bees and bugs and butterflies
A spiritual place of solace
Satisfaction wise

Tucked away in hedge land
Feelings come and go
A wealth of vital greenery
A harmony and flow
Mutual understanding
And generous rapport
Several helpful neighbours
Knocking on one’s door

Youth is what is needed
A pliant back or two
Swing the sickle heave the spade
To brighten up the view
Overgrown and clearly loved
Need helping hands to be
Giving some arduous Labour
And ingenuity.

A grove of wood and tangle
An eddy of beyond
Steps up to a garden
I’d need a magic wand
To get up there me thinks today
It’s not an easy trot
A lovelier couple you could never meet
I liked them both a lot.

Wales has so much to offer
The people are sublime
Their attitude is helpful
And On that fair I dine
Being old and antiquated
It’s really good to feel
People around you will help you
That really does appeal

The house is rather special
The problem is for me
Steep stairs made of concrete
It’s not so easily
Manageable on the basis
Of possibly every day
Which is why I have thought it through
and I have to say

It’s just too much for me, I think
I need an easier task
But assuredly I am hoping
Someone soon will ask
Them if they can buy their house
I am certain that is so
So much land and things to do
That much I do know

The beach a stones throw, really
Golden vibrant sand
The estuary is wonderful
One can understand
How Dylan Thomas loved the place
Poets clearly do
I hope to retire somewhere in Wales
And absorb an amazing view

Might be mountains might be sea
Might be woods some where free
A slower pace where wildness flows
Where rhyme and reason extends the prose.

Thank you Anne and Martin for your time and viewing your lovely house.