Biography of Owain Glyn
I live in Penzance, Cornwall, a place steeped in legend and myth and possibly the home of King Arthur's Camelot.
I love words, the sound of them and the look of them, for me they paint pictures of depth and substance. I am irreverent and cynical, but at the same time romantic and full of mischief. I love writing and creating, but I read avidly as well.
Owain Glyn Poems
In 1966, in a small village in South Wales, on the 21st. of October, Pantglas Junior School was engulfed by a slide of mud and coal slag. One hundred and forty four souls lost their lives, including one hundred and sixteen children. The sky was grey and sullen
Homes For Gnomes
Would you give a gnome a home? Sit him down on sculpted foam? Find a pleasant shaded spot, Not too cold, and not to hot.
I think of all the things I've said, Then thought of different things, instead. I think of all that I have done, When moons were cheese, and life was fun.
Ethelred had toasted bread Each night before he went to bed. And every day when he got up Hot Chocolate filled his morning cup.
The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse 4 De...
I am Death! Your nemesis. I shall kiss Each and every one of you!
I'm waiting for the Sun to shine, But it won't wait for me, I'm either still asleep in bed, Or busy having tea.
This Green And Pleasant Land
Oh, this green and pleasant land, Its clear blue seas and golden sands. Its rolling hills and wooded vales, Its constant rain and howling gales.
The Dark Road
Lost in loneliness, bathed in guilt, The dark road stretches out, The black wind swirls around my soul, And fills my heart with doubt.
The circus toured the local towns With dancing dogs, and painted clowns, Behind them marched the King's Dragoons To harvest men, for their platoons.
Among The Stars
When I have gone, please do not cry, Shed not a single tear. Do not ask the question, why? Or harbor any fear.
Sit still, I need to wash your face, you can't go out like this, What would the neighbors think? That I would let you go to Chapel to gaze on the countenance of our Saviour, With a dirty face?
I have this guy who cuts my hair What's left of it, to be quite fair He always does his very best He trims the tufts, and shines the rest.
I am sat on a bench, on the seafront, alone, Just me, and the sea, and the old weathered stone. Of course, there are tourists, who wander on by, And silver winged gulls, as they dissect the sky.
The shops are all empty, with tight battened doors, While gutter bred urchins, scratch cold running sores. Loud roaring taverns do courage-build trade, As the pox-ridden whores act out their dark charade.
Do You Remember?
I left my life with you, do you remember?
That hollow day of sharpened rain and even sharper words.
Each step I took away from you, each leaden pace, defeated me.
Your voice, once soft and lyrical, now cold and forged from steel.
I left my heart with you, do you remember?
The days of love we'd shared lay smashed and littered with accusations.
Those eyes in which I'd often bathed, now but a swollen tempest,
Your smile, which made the Sun shine bright, now turned to blackened stone.