(A poet, a genius, a troubled soul )
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dylan_Thomas
Dylan Thomas
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For other uses, see Dylan Thomas (disambiguation).
Dylan Thomas
A black and white photograph of Thomas wearing a suit with a white spotted bow tie in a book shop in New York.
Thomas at the Gotham Book Mart,
in New York City, 1952
Born Dylan Marlais Thomas
27 October 1914
Swansea, Wales, United Kingdom
Died 9 November 1953 (aged 39)
Greenwich Village, New York City, United States
Resting place Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, Wales
Occupation Poet and writer
Spouse Caitlin Macnamara ?(m. 1937)?
Children Llewelyn Edouard Thomas (1939–2000)
Aeronwy Bryn Thomas (1943–2009)
Colm Garan Hart Thomas (1949–2012)
Dylan Marlais Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)[1] was a Welsh poet and writer whose works include the poems "Do not go gentle into that good night" and "And death shall have no dominion"; the "play for voices" Under Milk Wood; and stories and radio broadcasts such as A Child's Christmas in Wales and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog. He became widely popular in his lifetime and remained so after his premature death at the age of 39 in New York City.[2] By then he had acquired a reputation, which he had encouraged, as a "roistering, drunken and doomed poet".[3]

Thomas was born in Swansea, Wales, in 1914. An undistinguished pupil, he left school at 16 to become a journalist for a short time. Many of his works appeared in print while he was still a teenager. In 1934, the publication of "Light breaks where no sun shines" caught the attention of the literary world. While living in London, Thomas met Caitlin Macnamara. They married in 1937. In 1938, they settled in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, and brought up their three children.

Thomas came to be appreciated as a popular poet during his lifetime, though he found earning a living as a writer was difficult. He began augmenting his income with reading tours and radio broadcasts. His radio recordings for the BBC during the late 1940s brought him to the public's attention, and he was frequently used by the BBC as an accessible voice of the literary scene.

Thomas first travelled to the United States in the 1950s. His readings there brought him a degree of fame, while his erratic behaviour and drinking worsened. His time in the United States cemented his legend, however, and he went on to record to vinyl such works as A Child's Christmas in Wales. During his fourth trip to New York in 1953, Thomas became gravely ill and fell into a coma. He died on 9 November 1953 and his body was returned to Wales. On 25 November 1953, he was interred at St Martin's churchyard in Laugharne.

Although Thomas wrote exclusively in the English language, he has been acknowledged as one of the most important Welsh poets of the 20th century. He is noted for his original, rhythmic and ingenious use of words and imagery.[4][5][6][7] His position as one of the great modern poets has been much discussed, and he remains popular with the public.[8][9]
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https://www.panmacmillan.com/blogs/l...as-welsh-poems

Fern Hill

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

From Read Me 2: A Poem For Every Day of The Year

***

The Song of the Mischievous Dog
There are many who say that a dog has its day,

And a cat has a number of lives;

There are others who think that a lobster is pink,

And that bees never work in their hives.

There are fewer, of course, who insist that a horse

Has a horn and two humps on its head,

And a fellow who jests that a mare can build nests

Is as rare as a donkey that's red.

Yet in spite of all this, I have moments of bliss,

For I cherish a passion for bones,

And though doubtful of biscuit, I'm willing to risk it,

And I love to chase rabbits and stones.

But my greatest delight is to take a good bite

At a calf that is plump and delicious;

And if I indulge in a bite at a bulge,

Let's hope you won't think me too vicious.

From Read Me: A Poem A Day

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.



Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.



Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

From A Poem For Every Night of The Year

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From ‘Under Milk Wood’
Every morning when I wake,
Dear Lord, a little prayer I make,
O please do keep Thy lovely eye
On all poor creatures born to die

And every evening at sun-down
I ask a blessing on the town,
For whether we last the night or no
I’m sure is always touch-and-go.

We are not wholly bad or good
Who live our lives under Milk Wood,
And Thou, I know, wilt be the first
To see our best side, not our worst.

O let us see another day!
Bless us all this night, I pray,
And to the sun we all will bow
And say, good-bye – but just for now!

From A Poem For Every Day Of The Year

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And Death Shall Have No Dominion

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead man naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.

Under the windings of the sea

They lying long shall not die windily;

Twisting on racks when sinews give way,

Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;

Faith in their hands shall snap in two,

And the unicorn evils run them through;

Split all ends up they shan’t crack;

And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.

No more may gulls cry at their ears

Or waves break loud on the seashores;

Where blew a flower may a flower no more

Lift its head to the blows of the rain;

Though they be mad and dead as nails,

Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;

Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,

And death shall have no dominion.

---- From A Poem For Every Day Of The Year
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(2.)  Dylan Thomas | Poetry Foundation

(3.)  Dylan Thomas - Dylan Thomas Biography - Poem Hunter

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My Tribute Poem:

That Life Extends Its Seeds Beyond Our Mortal Coils,
( Wherein Truth And Light Sets A Saving Path )


That death, dark and dread of night, mortal souls oft vex
In anger, Fate its massive powers too oft flexs
Yet there within meadows, beauty its powers grows
As in heart of winter's spirit blows whitest snows
Man can but deny the light and thus misbehave
Walk the horrendous maze- so seeking what he craves
All is not dark and dreary, some light must break through
We of mere flesh and bones --we too have our just dues!

That life extends its seeds beyond our mortal coils
To bring bountiful fruits from world's abundant soils
All cannot be perfect, there must be some dark blight
Man lives within evil's savage and wicked sights
Beneath skies blue or else frothing with angry storms
All is daily life with its oft mysteries norms
This truth, we are destined to one day depart
Despite our wishes, those pleadings from crying hearts!

That love a magnificent gift, oft healing balm
We ever seek a life that is peaceful and calm
A true soulmate, one to cherish with bated breath
A faithful companion - to love until our death
Such is a part of man, a part of destiny
Fact of life, tho' we ever seek eternity
Heaven smiles unto we of mere mortal desires
And in divine light bathe us in its holy fires!

Robert J. Lindley, 12-23-2020
Rhyme, ( Set Sail, The Sea Is Calm And The Sky Softest Blue )

Note: This blog, this poem both are inspired by a dream
I had a few nights ago. Has taken three days to get this
completed-seems it needs more. Truth is that I have no
more in me as of now. Thus accepting my lack of ability
I must make do as is now created. And abandon the second
poem that I had hoped to be able to compose to honor
Dylan Thomas. If Fate destines that second tribute poem
comes to me later- rest assured I will ink it and present it.
God bless and Merry Christmas to all..