#lynette roberts

[garadinervi]

Lynette Roberts, A Letter to the Dead. Collected Poems, Edited by Patrick McGuinness and Charles Mundye, Carcanet Classics / Carcanet Press, Manchester, 2025

[poem-today]

A poem by Lynette Roberts

Poem from Llanybri

If you come my way that is ... Between now and then, I will offer you  A fist full of rock cress fresh from the bank  The valley tips of garlic red with dew  Cooler than shallots, a breath you can swank

In the village when you come. At noon-day I will offer you a choice bowl of cawl Served with a 'lover's' spoon and a chopped spray Of leeks or savori fach, not used now,

In the old way you'll understand. The din Of children singing through the eyelet sheds Ringing smith hoops, chasing the butt of hens; Or I can offer you Cwmcelyn spread

With quartz stones from the wild scratchings of men: You will have to go carefully with clogs Or thick shoes for it's treacherous the fen, The East and West Marshes also have bogs.

Then I'll do the lights, fill the lamp with oil, Get coal from the shed, water from the well; Pluck and draw pigeon, with crop of green foil This your good supper from the lime-tree fell.

A sit by the hearth with blue flames rising, No talk. Just a stare at 'Time' gathering Healed thoughts, pool insight, like swan sailing Peace and sound around the home, offering

You a night's rest and my day's energy. You must come - start this pilgrimage Can you come? - send an ode or elegy In the old way and raise our heritage.

Lynette Roberts (1909-1995)

[givemearmstopraywith]

At first God wanted just himself. And this huge output of light whirled in horror Throughout the heavens with nothing very much to do. Knowing evil and good he was bored. Knowing life he was really fed up, So he set up like an artist to fulfil his daily needs, And wandered from the first day and entered the second. This was the layering of the mists. And God not seeing what was under his foot Called this the second day.”

Lynette Roberts, “Transgression”

[notmanthelessbutnaturemore]

From Max Porter’s Lanny

[queerwelsh]

Four women poets who will take you on an alternative journey through Welsh history

From speaking out over domestic abuse in medieval times to telling the realities of war, these female poets present a very different version of Welsh life.

An article on 4 women poets to read more by and about! (Gwerful Mechain, Katherine Philips, Cranogwen and Lynette Roberts.)

Gwerful Mechain was a medieval poet who wrote an ode to female genitals and poetry against domestic abuse; Katherine Philips was a 17th century poet who set up a ‘Society of Friendship’ in Cardigan, and wrote poetry to women, as well as a poem that was critical of marriage when she was 16 (not long before she married) and Cranogwen (Sarah Jane Rees) also wrote poetry to women and an Eisteddfod-winning poem that was critical of marriage and domestic abuse.

[poppyflo2]

Poem from Llanybri by Lynette Roberts

If you come my way that is…

Between now and then, I will offer you A fist full of rock cress fresh from the bank The valley tips of garlic red with dew Cooler than shallots, a breath you can swank

In the village when you come. At noon-day I will offer you a choice bowl of cawl Served with a ‘lover’s’ spoon and a chopped spray Of leeks or savori fach, not used now,

In the old way you’ll understand. The din Of children singing through the eyelet sheds Ringing smith hoops, chasing the butt of hens; Or I can offer you Cwmcelyn spread

With quartz stones from the wild scratchings of men: You will have to go carefully with clogs Or thick shoes for it’s treacherous the fen, The East and West Marshes also have bogs. Then I’ll do the lights, fill the lamp with oil, Get coal from the shed, water from the well; Pluck and draw pigeon with crop of green foil This your good supper from the lime-tree fell.

A sit by the hearth with blue flames rising, No talk. Just a stare at ‘Time’ gathering Healed thoughts, pool insight, like swan sailing Peace and sound around the home, offering

You a night’s rest and my day’s energy. You must come – start this pilgrimage Can you come? – send an ode or elegy In the old way and raise our heritage.

[givemearmstopraywith]

So God mused on the seventh day and lazed among the hills, And Eve spying him out asleep against the hedge Shouted, and knew herself to be a shrew.

Lynette Roberts, “Transgression”

[violettesiren]

Peace, my stranger is a tree Growing naturally through all its Discomforts, trials and emergencies Of growth. It is green and resolved It breathes with anguish Yet it releases peace, peace of mind Growth, movement. It walks this greening sweetness Throughout all the earth, Where sky and sun tender its habits As I would yours.

Green Madrigal by Lynette Roberts