Blackthorn is muscular all year flexing macho bones angles points but in May blackthorn turns transvestite all froth of frocks all bridal bright all frilly and all lady-like all May Ball Queen in petal white From Fiona Owen, O My Swan (pamphlet, out of print).
Prayer Poem Dear precious flesh, frail and needy, this is a prayer for you. You, the lit candle who drips your wax and burns your length of wick, your light both tenuous and tenacious – You, prey to the umpteen plagues, to draughts and gales from the four quarters – Know yourself, at this moment, … More Poem for us all at the time of Covid-19
Our collie Beca shook and panted for an hour last night due to local fireworks, and I can see from Facebook how many other dog owners are experiencing similar with their frightened dogs this weekend, with more to come, I suppose, on 5th November. It reminds me of a poem I wrote some years ago, … More Fireworks and dogs
Snowdrops are up in our garden, already, because, I suppose, it is so mild, and they make me think of the poem by Waldo Williams, where he endows this small flower with courage because, for all its delicacy and ‘modesty’, it still pushes through hard, inhospitable conditions – winter earth – ‘like steel’ to lead … More Eirlysiau
Every year, 22nd November marks the day on which my dad died in 2004. It’s been fourteen years now. Mum followed five years later. It was as if something in her began to leave soon after Dad passed … The mahonia in our garden is one that Dad gave us years ago. It’s still here, … More Dad’s Mahonia
Paul Matthews and Fiona Owen in Conversation In 2012, Paul Matthews and I wrote a dialogue-piece, a ‘con-vers-ation’, entitled ‘Because we are doing this: Paul Matthews and Fiona Owen in poetic dialogue’. With the publication of Paul’s most recent gathering of poems This Naked Light (2018), it has been a pleasure to turn with Paul again … More TEMPERING OUR WORDS WITH MERCY
There’s that Zen saying ‘No seed ever sees the flower’ and I’m thinking, in this season of mellow fruitfulness, about transformation, like the caterpillar and its transmogrification to butterfly. How could it ever foresee itself as the latter when living as the former? How can the crab apple seed dream itself as blossom or fruit? … More Something of the day – seed, flower, fruit
Earth A jewel, it looked like, hanging in vacuum black. It was a miracle of blue. It was – how precious? Image: ‘The Blue Marble’. Taken by Astronauts aboard Apollo 17 in 1972 Poem: Fiona Owen, 2003, O My Swan, Flarestack.
Simply because. Another book to love. The specialness of Paul’s poetry. The cover image. http://www.paulmatthewspoetry.co.uk/publications.php
With the recent passing of our neighbour, Owen Huw, here is a poem I wrote years ago, based on an anecdote he shared with us of a holiday incident. My main memory is of nearly falling off my chair with laughter when he recounted the story. Diolch o galon, Owen Huw. Mewn heddwch. Owen Huw’s Winter … More Something of the day – Owen Huw