The Pictures of Poetry

[JohnPitt]

I had two older sisters one of whom fell ill when a teenager and had a tragically disabled life dying at the early age of 32.
Before (and after) becoming ill, she had a flair for poetry. Here is a wonderful word picture poem of my teenage Sister.


Home in the Rhondda - (Ferndale)

As I walk homeward, slowly wending my way
The Shadows deepening, marking end of day
I see the valley in golden splendour lie
Beneath the wooded hills curving to the sky
Down the valley I can see facing due east
Lime upon a field that's all, No living beast
Nearby two coal elevators burnt out - dead
Smudged with black and green. Heaps of clinkers burned to red

Nearer west there is a wood beneath a farm
On this farm sunshine plays - adding to its charm
Part of it is ruined now but though it's small
It is fresh and beautiful within its wall
In the field there is a horse grazing with colt
Beside a lane on which farm tractors jolt
All outside its wooden fence wooly sheep stray
Even over jutting rocks hind'ring their way

Swallows are seen, homeward flying in the sky
Meanwhile the sunshine has waved its last 'goodbye'
But, before my journey ends listen! - hooved feet
Sheep have wandered even here, up my own street!

Elizabeth Leah Francis 1955