His breath of flames that sings the songs of war
In ancient lyrics and legends long past
Still the Harlech men sing his songs with pride
The words of Bards spoken so long before
A verse on paper with ink was e’er cast
Poets spoke of home with a lonely tear
And like a child my footsteps fall beside
The same paths the Bards trod in days of yore
I seek the sweet silence that holds me fast
A poet, a man taking his own ride
And though their songs of war were etched with fear
When their cry for freedom could never cease
Now times have changed, and I can wander here
It’s in the mountains I find inner peace
©JG Farmer 2018
Form: Keats’ Sonnet
A Garret Poet 