Gwilym Williams Poems

Walking in the bush
on the red earth
wrapped in a red blanket
the Masai Warrior is at peace
...

It's late
but I see them now -

Dylan -
...

The poetry is like tea.
I serve it strong
or weak;
as you like.
...

By candle-light
moon-visaged and sedulous
in a deserted scriptorium
amid the dusty scrolls
...

Boys, who can barely write, kneel
deep down, miles out to sea beneath
black-ribbed sands, before
the coal-face and pneumoconiosis.
...

Sunday in Wales
and small white clouds are drifting over
the bleating sheep grazed on the hills
like prayers on the way to heaven.
...

I guess that was buk's last job
honkin' them over
the harbor freeway
crossin' them over
...

What say you my reader there
under this electric air
that sings between us
and carries my immortal words
...

A monster has appeared
in the woods
a mechanical bird
the yellow crane
...

Who speaks for the schizophrenics;
those poor creatures inhabiting
the shadowy world between reality
and unreality roaming the cream
...