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Best Poems Written by Ceinwen Tidley

Below are the all-time best Ceinwen Tidley poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Forgotten Spaceman

Lunar eclipse plunges me in shadow.
Orbital, I spin in the dark.
Nebulas, I am insignificant amongst many,
Extra-terrestrial, alone and apart.
Limbic, I drift with creation.
Interstellar, I reunite with my past.
Neutron stars, immense galaxy dustbins,
Eat planets while I watch, aghast.
Severance, I have never felt so keenly,
Screaming, cart-wheeling, into the dark.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2017



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Drowning

The flames lap and ripple,
rise into the air.
Roar their destructive power,
hypnotise unaware.

Six months have passed now,
since you went to sea.
Our babe slumbers on,
untroubled, on my knee.

My heart's sinking fast,
under the blue of my dress.
Waves of fabric lap legs,
my limbs are restless.

You haven't seen your son yet-
left when I was in full sail.
Please come home soon my darling,
my strength is starting to fail.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2017

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Hiroshima's Little Boy

Hiroshima’s Little Boy.

Boy shaped memory burnt into stone.
An anonymous shadow of war. 
Running forever to a destination unknown.
Hung, suspended, an inch from the floor.
Were you on an errand? Or were you at play?
Helping your mother? Or chasing a friend? 
Where were you going when the Enola Gay
birthed death to a community condemned?

American’s shout of the American dream.
Arrogance condensed in a shell.
The price is a thousand innocent screams
and a boys’ silent footsteps through hell. 

Is your mother still waiting for you to return?
Did her pained cries match the American cheer?
Did she search rubble as Hiroshima burned
and American pilots sat down for a beer?
Did any American break down and cry?
Did any get upset or annoyed?
Did any care that hollow sockets wept eyes
at the sight of their Little Boy?

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2017

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Poppy Day Pride

Their wool uniform rubbed skin raw.
The lice infections irritated more.
Their sodden feet and rotting toes,
and all before they met their foes.

But I will not grieve as veterans walk by.
I will not sob at the November sky.
No. I will proudly hold my head up high,
for those brave men who had to die.

They did not, en masse, run away, nor
did they flee at the ominous raven's caw.
And although the tears flow back through time.
It meets the song of men in their prime.

So as poppies appear behind people's eyes,
and the bugle reaches that melancholy rise.
While other's cry over their demise.
I'll don not pity's mask - nor belie.

I'll stand and smile and thank every one.
Land, air and sea for all they've done.
There'll be no white hanky - for I will not bawl.
As poppies rain down in the Albert Hall.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2018

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Reflections

I stand staring into the water.
Battling the light, fighting past shadow.
Fleeting images skate along glass.
Uncertainty, doubt, nothing is plain.
Curious orange, glinted, then gone.
Rippled concentration, I frown.
Birds fly through a crocodile cloud,
then disappear into the grass.
A dragon-fly conducts a detailed inspection.
Pond-weed beckons, come closer...come closer...
Dark depths hide many mysteries.
A giggle blown on the breeze,
I smile.
Death, bloated, stares up accusingly.
A pond-skater pauses to read the nursery logo.
Another comes to confirm.
Crocodile jaws close over their meeting.
Apple-blossom, blue sky, black tyre-swing.
Nature's reality painted on glass.
A raindrop explodes on the surface.
Another, another, a battleground of ripples.
Distorted images echo my thoughts.
I stand.
I stare.
I drown.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2020



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SHELBY

Every morning I awake at the dawn,
my head full of misty dreams.
For a few blissful seconds, my brain's on sorn,
before the silent scream.

There's no comforting weight upon my hip,
or on my chest or hip.
I hear, "Good morning, darling," leave my lips,
but the words now fall like lead.

Sometimes I'm sure I hear a ghostly reply.
Sometimes I'm sure you're near.
But the pain is greater than the lie.
There's only silence here.

Your bowl lies, empty, on the ground.
The blue reminds me of the sky.
No longer will your paws pad around,
or comfort me when I cry.

A celebration of when you where born,
awaited you that day.
But at the morning chorus, you were gone,
and all colour drained away.

My hands ache to feel your soft fur.
My heart to feel your love.
My ears to hear your rumbling purr,
reserved for angels up above.

I pray to God to keep you safe.
To hold you in his embrace.
And I will treasure the love you gave,
and your memory for always.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2020

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Fragile Wishes

                                                       Oh,
                                                     I wish
                                                    I was a 
                                                blue butterfly.
                          I would flap my wings and soar way up high.
                       But, wait, you guys live three months and then die.
                                         I’ve changed my mind.
                                             Keep your wings.
                                                     I have
                                                      years.






From 08/09/20
Photo 3

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2020

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Spider-Cat


                                                Buzz.
                                                A fly.
                                           My cat sees.
                                       Watches, studies.
                  Then leaps up, claps paws, and grabs it mid-fllght.
                  Grounded, trapped, my cat looks at me and purrs.
                                       No webs in here.
                                        Problem solved.
                                                My cat.
                                                 Buzz.

Copyright © Ceinwen Tidley | Year Posted 2020