Circles and Circuses

Lately I've been working on a series of poems about Celtic myths and legends, especially those originating in Wales. On Friday I was delighted to come across the wooden carvings in the "Circle of Legends" at Tintern Station on the banks of the Wye, each one with its own wonderful story to tell. My imagination was particularly fired by the figure of Tewdrig, a king of Gwent in the post-Roman period.

Tewdrig, a devout and holy man, abdicated in favour of his son Meurig and retired to live a hermit's life at Tintern. But, when the kingdom was threatened by Saxon invaders, he was recalled to lead his son's army into battle. Victorious but mortally wounded in the fight, Tewdrig was carried in a carriage pulled by two stags on his final journey towards the place he had requested for his burial, Ynys Echni (the island of Flat Holm). Wherever the stags halted, fountains gushed from the earth. Just as they approached Mathern, an inlet on the coast, Tewdrig died. There his son built a church and buried his father's body. For defending a Christian kingdom against pagan invaders, Tewdrig was declared a martyr and a saint and his feast day is celebrated on April 1st.

Tewdrig apTeithfallt

In the bent figure of Tewdrig, in the lines of his face in the carving, you can feel the weight of the responsibility he felt for defending his realm, an old man called upon to make a great sacrifice for his people. Tremendous potential there for some poetic exploration!

Then a rather different tack on Saturday; I was at a short workshop run by Anna Saunders on confessional poetry - some brief but interesting insights into the work of poets such as Charles Bukowski, Sharon Olds and of course Sylvia Plath. Followed by the challenge of an exercise making fictional material appear authentically autobiographical!

"Here I am down on the ground,
you're in the air" -
I played it time and again,
my life panning out in song.

You flew athletic, graceful, amazing,
high above gasps of delight
from your adoring audience,
effortlessly acrobatic on that sparkling trapeze;

I dreamed of taking on tour
a tandem performance
as I swept sawdust from the floor
and they sent in the clowns.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2016)