O! Cardiff
I recently took a weekend trip to the country of Wales. I stayed in Cardiff and I was simply blown away by the beauty of the countryside of Wales that I decided that it was about time for me to take up my pen again and write a little poem about Cardiff and Wales.
O! Cardiff
In a twist of tales
I took a trip to the Country of Wales
Slapped from side to side by windy gales
I could not help but bite my finger nails
O! Cardiff
I speak with love blindly
You taste like a sweet wild cherry
The never-ending hills of houses are a beauty clearly
Through the land of valleys known as Methyr Tydfil
I saw sights of green imposed on me without tariffs
There was the largest city called Cardiff
Enticing me luxuriously to a weekend of mischief
A parcel of Castles
Castle Coch, Caerphilly Castle and Cardiff Castle
Reminds me of those days when soldiers battled
Surrounding green makes me ponder about sheep and cattle
I just desire green tea brewed from a pot of metallic kettle
O! Cardiff
My stomach now sings a soft jelly
As I think of a sweet girl called Kerry
Right now I'm in an ecstatic state of being merry
Cardiff the city of exuberant style
I gaze at the Millennium stadium touching the skies
And a 150ft clock elongates with a smile
Wile the Severn cross-way seems to go on for miles
With my fortress of endless wild dreams
The musical festivals tempts me with boozy steam
As I meet a young toothless fairy
Whose chest is so hairy and scary!
The Museums, the Welsh accent and jack union flags
The Cardiff bays, the Mermaid Quay are Cardiff's tags
Spectacular restaurants and the day passes without a drag
O! Cardiff what else do you have in your mystery bag?
The reggae men sing about a one night stand
Women think they are stallions each time they try out new positions
And I with wonder can all but understand
For those who shoot the Sheriff are on a mission
O! Cardiff
The alcohol has made eyes blurry and weary
I like to buy a house and dog named Kerry
Today I'm in an ecstatic state of being merry
The Welsh people are oh, very friendly
The wetlands, historical cinemas and films
And though with a friendly broken leg I limp
O! Cardiff you are still here to fulfill all my dreams
Copyright 2010 - Sylvia Chidi
www.womenball.com\sylviachidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When I was 2, we moved into an imposing country mansion 8 miles west of Cardiff, Wales.
quote by Roald Dahl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I am very excited to be here in Wales and look forward to putting on the Cardiff Blues shirt.
quote by Jonah Lomu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The 6.15 from Paddington - Steam Days
The 6.15 from Paddinton goes chugging down the track,
The Guard blows on his whistle, and the engine whistles back.
The carriages are following, swaying as they go,
The passengers are also swaying to and fro.
Through Maidenhead, Reading and Newbury in Berks,
The monster travels onwards, with steam, grey smoke and sparks.
Past Swindon down in Wiltshire and then Chipping Sodbury,
Through tunnels, over bridges, always in a 'big' hurry.
The countryside goes whooshing by, as we travel on,
With fields, lanes and cottages, one moment seen, then gone.
Villages, farms and valleys, tree clad hills and downs,
Flashing past the windows, with 'swishy swooshy' sounds.
It now approaches Bristol, the driver applies the brakes,
With screeching and with creaking, what a hullabaloo it makes.
It's reached it's destination where the Porter and the Clerk,
Will check on all the passengers, before they disembark.
The loud station announcer declares she's the next train out,
The fireman stokes the boiler, and the green flag's waved about.
The train is off and whistles, as it thunders out of view,
The trails of smoke are lifting and the sun is breaking through.
The 6.15 from Paddington is now on her way to Wales,
To Cardiff and to Swansea, for the shops and summer sales.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Antichrist, or the Reunion of Christendom: An Ode
Are they clinging to their crosses,
F. E. Smith,
Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses,
Are they, Smith?
Do they, fasting, trembling, bleeding,
Wait the news from this our city?
Groaning "That's the Second Reading!"
Hissing "There is still Committee!"
If the voice of Cecil falters,
If McKenna's point has pith,
Do they tremble for their altars?
Do they, Smith?
Russian peasants round their pope
Huddled, Smith,
Hear about it all, I hope,
Don't they, Smith?
In the mountain hamlets clothing
Peaks beyond Caucasian pales,
Where Establishment means nothing
And they never heard of Wales,
Do they read it all in Hansard -
With a crib to read it with -
"Welsh Tithes: Dr. Clifford answered."
Really, Smith?
In the lands where Christians were,
F. E. Smith,
In the little lands laid bare,
Smith, O Smith!
Where the Turkish bands are busy
And the Tory name is blessed
Since they hailed the Cross of Dizzy
On the banners from the West!
Men don't think it half so hard if
Islam burns their kin and kith,
Since a curate lives in Cardiff
Saved by Smith.
It would greatly, I must own,
Soothe me, Smith!
If you left this theme alone,
Holy Smith!
For your legal cause or civil
You fight well and get your fee;
For your God or dream or devil
You will answer, not to me.
Talk about the pews and steeples
And the cash that goes therewith!
But the souls of Christian peoples...
Chuck it, Smith!
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Antichrist, or the Reunion of Christendom: An Ode
Are they clinging to their crosses,
F. E. Smith,
Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses,
Are they, Smith?
Do they, fasting, trembling, bleeding,
Wait the news from this our city?
Groaning "That's the Second Reading!"
Hissing "There is still Committee!"
If the voice of Cecil falters,
If McKenna's point has pith,
Do they tremble for their altars?
Do they, Smith?
Russian peasants round their pope
Huddled, Smith,
Hear about it all, I hope,
Don't they, Smith?
In the mountain hamlets clothing
Peaks beyond Caucasian pales,
Where Establishment means nothing
And they never heard of Wales,
Do they read it all in Hansard --
With a crib to read it with --
"Welsh Tithes: Dr. Clifford answered."
Really, Smith?
In the lands where Christians were,
F. E. Smith,
In the little lands laid bare,
Smith, O Smith!
Where the Turkish bands are busy
And the Tory name is blessed
Since they hailed the Cross of Dizzy
On the banners from the West!
Men don't think it half so hard if
Islam burns their kin and kith,
Since a curate lives in Cardiff
Saved by Smith.
It would greatly, I must own,
Soothe me, Smith!
If you left this theme alone,
Holy Smith!
For your legal cause or civil
You fight well and get your fee;
For your God or dream or devil
You will answer, not to me.
Talk about the pews and steeples
And the cash that goes therewith!
But the souls of Christian peoples...
Chuck it, Smith!
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Welcome to the Prince of Wales
Lines written when the Prince of Wales
was about embarking for Canada, May, 1860.
In his long voyage o'er the sea,
To where doth grow the maple tree,
May he be blest with pleasant gales-
The coming man, the Prince of Wales.
The Maple grows but in good soil,
Where nature doth reward for toil.
The farmer, splitting his fence rails,
He welcome bids the Prince of Wales.
In the woods the axe is ringing,
And the yeoman merry singing ;
The song resounds o'er hills and dales -
Our future king, the Prince of Wales.
'Round the brow of our future chief
We'll weave a wreath of maple leaf,
For o'er broad Canada prevails
Kind feelings to the Prince of Wales.
When in this land the Prince arrives
May he have many pleasant drives,
And on our lakes have merry sails-
Great king of princes, Prince of Wales.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunny New South Wales
We often hear men boast about the land which gave them birth,
And each one thinks his native land the fairest spot on earth;
In beauty, riches, power, no land can his surpass;
To his, all other lands on earth cannot even hold a glass.
Now, if other people have their boasts, then, say, why should not we,
For we can drink our jovial toast and sing with three times three;
For there's not a country in the world where all that's fair prevails
As here it does in this our land, our sunny New South Wales.
Chorus
Then toast with me our happy land,
Where all that's fair prevails,
Our colour's blue and our hearts are true,
In sunny New South Wales.
Now let us take a passing glance at all that we possess.
That ours is such a wealthy land no stranger e'er would guess.
Why, we've land in store, indeed far more than ever we shall require,
And trees grow thick on every side in spite of axe and fire.
Our sheep and cattle millions count, our wool is classed A1;
In beef and mutton our fair land is not to be outdone.
Why, we've lately seen old England, who boasts her stock ne'er fails,
Has had to send for wholsome meat preserved in New South Wales.
Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.
In childhood California was to us a land of gold,
And people said its riches were so vast, immense, untold.
But time has proved that mineral wealth exists not there alone,
For New South Wales possesses gold in many, many a stone.
And when the gold is taken from out its quartzy veins
A heap of silver, copper, tin, as a residue remains.
In fact we are a mass of wealth in all our hills and dales.
There's not a country half as rich as sunny New South Wales.
Chorus: Then toast with me, &c.
Our climate's good, that all admit, our flowers are sweet and rare;
And scenes abound on every hand so marvellously fair.
Shame on the men who went away and of us wrote such lies.
Why, when Anthony Trollope came out here he nearly lost his eyes.
Our native girls are fair and good, their hearts are pure and true;
And to their colour stick like bricks, the bright Australian blue.
Some never loved a roving life, nor blest the ocean's gales;
But they bless the breeze that blew them to a life in New South Wales.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Train Journey
We left old Melbourne City in the darkness
And the northbound train stopped at each rural town
And a gray dawn broke as we neared outer Sydney
This Land now green has often been so brown.
Beyond Gosford the scenery was changing
We passed by coastal paddocks wide and green
This Land can be compared to a chameleon
It changes it's colours where the rains have been.
Through Wauchope and Nambucca Heads places of beauty
And as we neared Grafton it commenced to rain
To New South Wales on the first of September
The spring has brought it's greenery again.
Before we reached Casino night had fallen
It was a long day's journey into night
On through Lismore, Mullumbimby and through the cane country
Of Murwillumbah in the faint moonlight.
On to the last stop Murwillumbah station
And the memory with me will long remain
Of that train journey on the first of September
Through New South Wales made green by recent rain.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green New Zealand
I've seen great sights of beauty in my travels
The gold and grey landscapes, the brown and green
But south Pacific Islands of New Zealand
Are beautiful as anywhere I've seen.
I've seen the hills of Sherbrooke east of Melbourne
Where tall mountain ash reach upwards towards the sky
And cool rainforests of northern New South Wales and Queensland
Are memories I can recall and enjoy.
I've seen the high hills of Britain and Ireland
Of such green beauty famous bards have wrote
But I would write a song for green New Zealand
Had I been blessed with gift of rhyming poet.
I've seen the wild brown outback of Australia
It's rugged beauty man could never tame
A different sort of beauty to New Zealand
And no two sorts of beauty seem the same.
I've seen the Catskill mountains in their splendour
When flowers were blooming in the month of May
And birds sang in the leafy mountain woodlands
But that was years ago and far away.
The lush green hills and valleys of New Zealand
As beautiful as I have ever seen
And the Homeland of the kakapo and kiwi
Can compare with to anywhere I've been.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There was a Young Lady of Wales,
Who caught a large fish without scales;
When she lifted her hook
She exclaimed, 'Only look!'
That ecstatic Young Lady of Wales.
quote by by Edward Lear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When The Welsh Of Wales Go Home
There’s a distant drift of tides
That pitch at your troubled stare
And songs of a deep Welsh valley
Howl out from your wild, grey hair;
Then you sit, bright-eyed at the moonlight,
And you cry, bright-eyed at dawn,
There is no rest for the weary
When the Welsh of Wales go home.
You ride that distant country
While your eyes are mad with grief,
And you search for the things you lost there
Or you search for a long dead thief;
I speak, but get no answer
I question, cajole, implore,
You nod with an ancient wisdom,
And wake at a cottage door.
You knock, but find it empty
The thatch lies thick on the floor,
The shutters are hanging open
The latch, long torn from the door,
The sounds of distant children
You sense in the wind and weeds;
All gone, as if in an instant,
All scattered, like burdock seeds.
All gone, the lives you left there
Were storms that passed in the trees,
A light on the far horizon
Is all you have left of these,
For soon, you’ll go to my father,
Where he went, so bitter, so far,
And the Wales of the Welsh will claim you
At the last ‘Nos da.’
2 May 1994
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bonnie New South Wales
It surely cannot be too soon, and never is too late,
It tones with all Australia’s tune to praise one’s native State,
And so I bring an old refrain from days of posts and rails,
And lift the good old words again, for Sunny New South Wales.
She bore me on her tented fields, and wore my youth away,
And little gold of all she yields repays my toil to-day;
By track and camp and bushman’s hut—by streets where courage fails—
I’ve sung for all Australia, but my heart’s in New South Wales.
The waratah and wattle there in all their glory grow—
And if they bloom on hills elsewhere, I’m not supposed to know,
The tales that other States may tell—I never hear the tales!
For I, her son, have sinned as well as Bonnie New South Wales.
I only know her heart is good to sweetheart and to mate,
And pregnant with our nationhood from Sunset to the Gate;
I only know her sons sail home on every ship that sails,
Though round the world ten times they roam from dear old New South Wales.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green, green and green
I want a holiday with a scene
Of green, green and green
A summer of green trees
A landscape of green grass
A view full of green vegetables
The colour green
Is a beauty that must be seen!
From a moving vehicles screen
And while we hold onto those machines
That deprives us of the colour green
Remember they provide us vaccines
As well as help the air to be clean
So for green, green and green
I will travel continents across and in-between
And also to any place that I have never been
I will make it routine
Just to see green, green and green
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Merry, Cherry and Strawberry
There was A big hairy man who had wife called Merry
merry and the hairy man had a farm of strawberry
once upon a day, a government came to the farm
merry an the man gets a big alarm
the farm was sealed and berries served for meal
the man get sad
merry get so mad
their life falls down
they luck was drown
the man hadn't chance
the death beat him a lance
but merry was scary
not like a little fairy
she did all the hard
to make a nice bomb
his name was cherry
so fears to be fairy
she put on the Court
she just said to lord
'Hello dear lord, hear is merry with a bomb called cherry
there is no more strawberry'
poem by Dariel Grey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Castle In The Air
And if she asks you why you can tell her that I told you
That I'm tired of Castles in the Air
I've got a dream I want the world to share in castle walls
Just leave me to despair
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky
A dream come true, I'll live there 'til I die
I'm asking you, to say my last goodbye
The love we knew, ain't worth another try
Save me from all the trouble and the pain
I know I'm weak but I can't face that girl again
Tell her the reasons why I can't remain
Perhaps she'll understand if you tell it to her plain
Oh, but how can words express the feel of sunlight
In the morning in the hills away from city strife
I need a country woman for my wife
I'm city born but I love the country life
For I can not be part of her "Cocktail-Generation Partner's Waltz,"
Devoid of all romance
The music plays and everyone must dance
I'm bowing out, I need a second chance
Save me from all the trouble and the pain
I know I'm weak but I can't face that girl again
Tell her the reasons why I can't remain
Perhaps she'll understand if you tell it to her plain
And if she asks you why you can tell her that I told you
That I'm tired of Castles in the Air
I've got a dream I want the world to share in castle walls
Just leave me to despair
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Castles In The Air
And if she asks you why, you can tell her that I told you
That Im tired of castles in the air.
Ive got a dream I want the world to share
And castle walls just lead me to despair.
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky,
A dream come true, Ill live there till I die.
Im asking you to say my last goodbye.
The love we knew aint worth another try.
Save me from all the trouble and the pain.
I know Im weak, but I cant face that girl again.
Tell her the reasons why I cant remain,
Perhaps shell understand if you tell it to her plain.
But how can words express the feel of sunlight in the morning,
In the hills, away from city strife.
I need a country woman for my wife;
Im city born, but I love the country life.
For I cannot be part of the cocktail generation:
Partners waltz, devoid of all romance.
The music plays and everyone must dance.
Im bowing out. I need a second chance.
Save me from all the trouble and the pain.
I know Im weak, but I cant face that girl again.
Tell her the reasons why I cant remain,
Perhaps shell understand if you tell it to her plain.
And if she asks you why, you can tell her that I told you
That Im tired of castles in the air.
Ive got a dream I want the world to share
And castle walls just lead me to despair.
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Castle of Mains
Ancient Castle of the Mains,
With your romantic scenery and surrounding plains,
Which seem most beautiful to the eye,
And the little rivulet running by,
Which the weary traveller can drink of when he feels dry.
And the heaven's breath smells sweetly there,
And scented perfumes fill the air,
Emanating from the green trees and beautiful wild flowers growing there.
There the people can enjoy themselves
And wile away the time,
By admiring the romantic scenery In the beautiful sunshine;
And pull the little daisy,
As they carelessly recline
Upon the grassy green banks,
Which is most charming to see,
Near by the Castle of the Mains,
Not far from Dundee.
Then there's the old burying-ground,
Most solemn to see,
And the silent dead reposing silently
Amid the shady trees,
In that beautiful fairy dell
Most lovely to see,
Which in the summer season
Fills the people's hearts with glee,
To hear the birds singing and the humming of the bee.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
John From Fishguard
Sing old John a song of his Hometown of Fishguard in Wales by the sea
The Town he left when he was in his mid twenties in the Spring of nineteen sixty three
With his wife Jenny and their only child Garett who then only had just turned four
They went south to sunny Austrealia thousands of miles from their Homeshore.
His wife she is with the departed she passed on a few years ago
A victim of intestinal cancer her end it was painful and slow
He took care of her when she was bed bound a greater love he never knew
To each other they were devoted and to each other they remained true.
A gray haired man in his late sixties his better days he surely has seen
His son Garett who lives in New Zealand has a son of twenty and a daughter of nineteen
And though he lives on his own he seems happy at the local pub he is known to all
He enjoys his beer and the sing song and he loves to talk of football.
I once heard him ask the ballad singer sing a song of Fishguard for me
The old Town I left in my twenties in Wales by the Atlantic sea
The ballad singer did not know any Welsh song so he handed John his guitar
And John in his fine singing voice sung a song of Fishguard in distance from here very far.
The Welsh accent it is still with him and with him doubtless it will stay
Until the Grim Reaper will claim him the one we all must fall to one day
He enjoys a drink at the local pub where he is well liked and well known
And he never does seem dejected though he is one who lives on his own.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken Fairy Tales
Heres a little story that I made up
So let's play make believe
In my castle on the cliff
I look out to sea
I just wanna have some fun
I just wanns have a good time
My party is nothing special
I just can't seem to realize
In my little fairy tale book
That's where my dreams wait for me
In my little own world
My prince waits for me
Broken dreams and fairy tales
One of those things I know so well
My fantasy dreams aren't real anymore
They're just Broken Fairy Tales
The wicked witch dreams in her sleep
She is making green elephants for tea
She cackles and cries
The witch is alive and she's ready for the sun
A white horse rides the waves
His mane is silver and snow
The moon which rides
Along the great tides
Is living his life to the full
In my little fairy tale book
That's where my dreams wait for me
In my little own world
My prince waits for me
Broken dreams and fairy tales
One of those things I know so well
My fantasy dreams aren't real anymore
They're just Broken Fairy Tales
Walking through my winter wonderland
The pine tree's sway, glistened with snow
As we walk along, we hear Santa say
'Welcome to the book of Broken Fairy Tales.'
Broken dreams and fairy tales
One of those things I know so well
My fantasy dreams aren't real anymore
They're just Broken Fairy Tales
As I wake from my dream I realise
That this is my broken fairy tale
poem by AnneMarie Hewlett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I fancy I Can See You Old Duhallow
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
The swallows o'er your fields wing to and fro
And cows from wintering houses out on pasture
And birds are whistling on the green hedgerow.
I lay upon the bracken slopes of Clara
I see the Kerry hills beyond Rathmore
A skylark sing above the silent mountain
His song bring back to me the joys of yore.
You wear your green cloak of the Spring Duhallow
And your beauty from the mountain side I see
From Millstreet to Kanturk on towards Newmarket
Kiskeam to Cullen and up to Knocknagree.
I often think about you green Duhallow
You were the first great love I ever knew
But many others loved you better than I
And they feel quite content to live with you.
I fancy I can see you old Duhallow
In your green groves the wild birds nest and sing
And swallows fly above your fields and meadows
And cuckoo pipes his fanfare of the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!