Through wide windows, or: Through the dark

My first Byr a Thoddaid

Some find inspiration outside,
While I, flailing, remain defied;
Left wondering if these brown eyes are blind,
As mind through the dark flies

My third eye's wont to look always within,
Wherein reverie plays;
Towering mountains; bubbling streams;
Lush valleys; elves dance in moonbeams

Through wide windows, I hear horns honk;
Place mind's ear against inner conch;
Deep, still oceans within cool burning soul;
Outside, whole... world... churning...

Welsh forms of poetry

I recently discovered some Welsh forms of poetry, which I had never heard of. Above is my second such poem. My first was a ‘Cywydd Llosgyrnog’, which I titled ‘Flesh, or: Verse’. I hope to try my hand at writing some more Welsh-style poetry this week!