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!