2012
"Welsh rain"
The dykes on our doorstep
All soaked in the rain
The dash of the drops
On our window pane
Wales in the wet
Is a place to behold
The start of the stories
That will be retold
The rain in the gutter
The spray on our shoes
The mud on our mudguards
Its time for a snooze!
Ron Blundell
"Gold and unseen water"
Our lunch was all day breakfast
Of egg and bacon two
Black pudding, beans tomatoes
Brown sausages and brew
We’d seen the deep dark caverns
Heard echoes in the dark
Panned for golden treasure
It was a happy lark
We wound through winding valleys
Past timber lorries tough
Past electricity long trailers
For water is a must
We took a right hand turning
When left it should have been
That illusive hidden water
Was yet to be unseen!
Ron Blundell
"Elan Valley"
The cascade of the water
Falls down the Elan dams
The hiss, the splash, the sparkle
Its electro hydro rams
The curves and hillside tumbles
The winding lakeside road
The warmth of July sunshine
A clefted feathered bird.
Ron Blundell
"Rain in the Marches"
The rain that passeth all understanding
Falls down at angles outstanding
It splashes and plops in bloody great spots
On holiday its very demanding!
Ron Blundell
"Wet Wales"
The trees in their 1000s
The sheep by the score
Wonder who’s knocking
On our chalets door?
The walkers who ramble
In the pouring rain
They trek over Ofer
Time and again
A top up of bottles
In want of some water
And we think we orta!
The sheep and the horses
All sleep in the rain
As the drips and the drops
Pour on down the drain
We wait and we wander
Before going out
Will they tell us again
That this is a drought?
Ron Blundell
"Devils Bridge"
Deep into the gorge
The steps go down
The rush of the water
The only sound
High above
The bridges arch
Three in all,
They make their mark
The water swirling
In doldrums raging
The devils dancing
Our hearts are racing.
Ron Blundell
"Devils Bridge"
"Ludlow"
Black and white the timber
Slatey grey the walls
The roaring of the waters
We came and loved them all
The windows in the churches
The wooden slated benches
The people in the market
Their varied lunch time lunches
Ron Blundell
"Prestiegn and the Judges House"
Prestiegns a quiet simple place
With houses that are varied
With walls of brick and plastered lathe
And some timbers brightly painted
The Judges house was open
As were the prison cells
The kitchens, halls and bedrooms
A myriad of smells
The paraffin and candles
The flaring gas light flame
The darkness of the cellars
The sentences of shame
The photos and the paintings
The stories told of old
The copper and the workman
The Judge of all was told
He sat atop the courtroom
The Press the Jury cooped
In stalls of painted woodwork
And heard how crimes were booked
He was washed and stayed in comfort
After travelling through the land
In coach, carriage and on horseback
Everything was kept at hand
His clothes, robes and whiskey
Wine and comfort food
The housemaid and the bedstead
Nothing was too good!
Ron Blundell
"Powys Castle"
Clive connected, red rock raised
Above the gardens spread below
The statues stand with leaden gaze
Towards the spires and distant hills
The painted rooms, expansive halls
The pictures hang on wooden walls
The book shelves heave with bounded books
The tables laid but no one looks
To see the spectred guests file in
They went before us long before
They lived their lives in days of yore
The stables bare all horses gone
The courtyard rings with peacock song
The cars depart to pastures new
I hope the peace recharges you.
Ron Blundell