IRIS HUWS-JOHN - POEMS
Iris Huws-John is a Welsh poet from Gwent, who is still hopeful for mankind! She trained as both a psychiatric and children's nurse and writes poetry for all age ranges. Iris is due to have her first children's book, under Gilly John (her children's author's name) published in March 2019 with Y Lolfa about an umbrella octopus! She is passionate about the natural world, including Welsh cobs and supporting the Welsh language. She believes all languages are important and only words can save the world. Her favourite Welsh word is Hiraeth, there isn't really a word for it in English, it means a nostalgia, a longing for a person, place or time.
Like the rook’s bald face,
Kept clean of the evidence,
Hidden deep the disgrace,
Rips out the guts,
Of another race.
They tried their best to keep us safe,
Loved and wanted, in our den.
Who could have known, the misplaced trust?
The predator was in the pen.
Illness when living with family
I said to Dai, am I going to die?
Yes, he said, we all are……..one day.
I think I’m on my way out, I said.
In that case, said Dai,
Can you take your sister with you?
Stallions of Britain
For hundreds of years,
We roamed the mountains, free to pull
At wild moorland scrub, venturing low,
Into the white valley, as winter fell.
We took salt from root and peat,
Soft moss and fern made our bed,
Senses waxed, a warm mare’s flank,
Our progeny, wilful, amongst foxgloves and rock.
In summer, we searched, then drank,
From ancient glacial streams,
Heads lowered, sometimes too close to the adder,
Ears twitched, listening for danger.
Not fate, but human sanction finds me,
Bedded in a darkened box, startled, from time to time,
By a dog barking wildly, at the wind,
Stirred trees or an unseen enemy.
Moving quietly to a breach in the old green door,
I inhale the cool still air at dawn,
My limbs, now weak without the tension,
Of solid ground, buckle under my sorry form.
Dust falls gently through streams, of corn coloured
Light, pecking through the rifts,
In the cold stone walls, as I wait patiently,
For the sun to set, on these old bones.