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R. S. Thomas

R. S. Thomas

And You?

Davies thought life was long;
there was a sameness in the song.
Pugh thought it all too brief,
the fruit ripe before the leaf
 
turned. How is it with you
who have neither the greed of Pugh
nor Davies’ lack of zest
for the red meat on the breast?

#WelshWriters

Altre opere di R. S. Thomas...
Epitaph

The poem in the rock and The poem in the mind Are not one. It was in dying I tried to make them so.
Reflections

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address… Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown. Never think to surprise them.
 6
 17
The Prisoner

‘Poems from prison! About what?’ ‘Life and God.’ ‘God in prison? Friend, you trifle with me. His face, perhaps,
The White Tiger

It was beautiful as God must be beautiful: glacial eyes that had looked on violence and come to terms with it; a body too huge
 1
 4
The Dance

She is young. Have I the right Even to name her? Child, It is not love I offer Your quick limbs, your eyes; Only the barren homage
 2
Praise

I praise you because you are artist and scientist in one. When I am somewhat fearful of your power, your ability to work miracles
The Way of It

With her fingers she turns paint into flowers, with her body flowers into a remembrance of herself. She is at work always, mending the garment
The Dark Well

They see you as they see you, A poor farmer with no name, Ploughing cloudward, sowing the wi… With squalls of gulls at the day’s… To me you are Prytherch, the man
The Hill Farmer Speaks

I am the farmer, stripped of love And thought and grace by the land’… But what I am saying over the fie… Desolate acres, rough with dew, Is, Listen, listen, I am a man li…
A Blackbird Singing

It seems wrong that out of this bi… Black, bold, a suggestion of dark Places about it, there yet should… Such rich music, as though the not… Ore were changed to a rare metal
Thirteen Blackbirds Look at a Man

It is calm. It is as though we lived in a garden that had not yet arrived at the knowledge of
Evans

Evans? Yes, many a time I came down his bare flight Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen With its wood fire, where crickets… Accompaniment to the black kettle’…
The Fair

The idiot goes round and around With his brother in a bumping car At the fair. The famous idiot Smile hangs over the car’s edge, Illuminating nothing. This is man…
The Absence

It is this great absence that is like a presence, that comp… me to address it without hope of a reply. It is a room I enter from which someone has just
Acting

Being unwise enough to have marrie… I never knew when she was not acti… ‘I love you’ she would say; I hea… Sigh. ‘I hate you’; I could never… They were still there. She was lo…



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