I am a retired high school teacher and presently creative writing tutor, living in the far West of Wales, about 30 miles along the coast from Dylan Thomas's Boathouse. Although I don't see myself as unduly competitive, I have recently won the Prole Poetry Pamphlet competition and my chapbook entry, Robeson, Fitzgerald and Other Heroes, will be published soon by Prolebooks.
The Astra is very slowly
nudging a way out of Cardiff city.
Loutishness hems him, chokes progress,
but his head-lights sweep to the valleys,
Merthyr mountain, to the Beacons now,
his tail-lights, beacons too, gleaming.
The Mazda has come from the Towy Valley,
through land of pasture, udder, stream,
her tail-lights glistening in
the gathering night, to the Beacons, where
they flicker into quietude and she waits
until the Astra draws alongside,
here, high on this mountain side,
in the land of the red kite, blown skies.
First appeared in Other Poetry, 4.2, 2010
© 2017 Robert Nisbet
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