TO IDRIS DAVIES

The pits long left your valley,

the bells have ceased to toll,

estates of houses and industry

but faces like punctured balls.

Because most works in the city

far from your one-street town

where shops are wearing shutters

and the postman brings a frown.

Im searching for you on the terrace,

the plaque a word-won medal,

searching also in the Library

where youre cherished, pens nestled.

The desert today is inside many,

those boozers, smokers and druggies

who stagger past the cemetery,

cravings always digging deeper.

And if you could walk to Merthyr

over moors, the way the bus takes me,

youd find a huge hollow in the hills

where seagulls circle like vultures.

But you would still mark them here

from bakery to chippie to caf,

those folk who chat and joke and care,

those selfsame people of Rhymney.

MIKE JENKINS

LINKS

Mike Jenkins website

An Interview with Welsh Poet Mike Jenkins

Journey of The Taf

Idris Davies