You know how cherry trees blossoming in winter becomes kind of second nature awe sometimes? Well that's how I would describe the abundance of age old castles that dominant the landscape here in Wales. "Look!" "Another castle!" "Wow. Another one." Not to dismiss the immensity and amazement of these historic structures, but holy my cherry tree, they are everywhere!
The first castle I was blessed to stand in awe of went by the name of Llansteffan. It's situated atop a cliff that overlooks a beautifully British Columbian estuary - so long as you don't heed the rolling patchwork hills that edge it's shorelines. The castle itself was in a state of ruins, but ruins they were, they were absolutely stunning. The castle was built sometime after 1100. Apparently the Normans came in and threw her up as part of their campaign only to eventually lose it to the english. In comparison, to other castles in the area, she isn't all that big but good things come in small packages - as we all know. Dylan Thomas' Boathouse is also nearby and so, after we tired of our snap happy ways, we took a pleasent stroll to where one of the most infamous Welsh poets drank himself to death. A fitting death for a welsh artist really.
The boathouse featured no boats and I didn't take note of any docks either but I can imagine the peace and inspiration one might find in such a setting. A crisp mojito while gazing out at the Irish sea wouldn't be too bad for the soul either. Although in retrospect perhaps one would shy from the partaking.
Dylan Thomos is probably best known for his poem "Do no go gentle into that good night." And his play "Under Milkwood." He wrote solely in english, which perhaps is interesting, as one might expect him to represent his native country, but perhaps welsh sounded as funny to him as it does to me. Not that I don't love to listen to it. I just can't imagine producing fluent stanzas in such a foreign language. Although, the welsh poetry that I have been lucky enough to hear, thanks to an amazing poetry reading in Carmarthen, is really quite mesmerizing. It flows in away you might not guess it could if you had only heard it in spoken word.
So, me dear sweet Castles and Poets here is something to take in return for your magestic and varied beauty:
Oh Castles,
You ancient, stone-walled beasts
Looking out over sea
Land, and Boathouse
Every stone a little different
Every fortress its own
No rolling hill lacking
No white sheep unseen
Oh, Castles
You ever-present monstrosities,
Wales would be naked with out you.
The first castle I was blessed to stand in awe of went by the name of Llansteffan. It's situated atop a cliff that overlooks a beautifully British Columbian estuary - so long as you don't heed the rolling patchwork hills that edge it's shorelines. The castle itself was in a state of ruins, but ruins they were, they were absolutely stunning. The castle was built sometime after 1100. Apparently the Normans came in and threw her up as part of their campaign only to eventually lose it to the english. In comparison, to other castles in the area, she isn't all that big but good things come in small packages - as we all know. Dylan Thomas' Boathouse is also nearby and so, after we tired of our snap happy ways, we took a pleasent stroll to where one of the most infamous Welsh poets drank himself to death. A fitting death for a welsh artist really.
The boathouse featured no boats and I didn't take note of any docks either but I can imagine the peace and inspiration one might find in such a setting. A crisp mojito while gazing out at the Irish sea wouldn't be too bad for the soul either. Although in retrospect perhaps one would shy from the partaking.
Dylan Thomos is probably best known for his poem "Do no go gentle into that good night." And his play "Under Milkwood." He wrote solely in english, which perhaps is interesting, as one might expect him to represent his native country, but perhaps welsh sounded as funny to him as it does to me. Not that I don't love to listen to it. I just can't imagine producing fluent stanzas in such a foreign language. Although, the welsh poetry that I have been lucky enough to hear, thanks to an amazing poetry reading in Carmarthen, is really quite mesmerizing. It flows in away you might not guess it could if you had only heard it in spoken word.
So, me dear sweet Castles and Poets here is something to take in return for your magestic and varied beauty:
Oh Castles,
You ancient, stone-walled beasts
Looking out over sea
Land, and Boathouse
Every stone a little different
Every fortress its own
No rolling hill lacking
No white sheep unseen
Oh, Castles
You ever-present monstrosities,
Wales would be naked with out you.
