This week: Dylan Thomas Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines
By Dylan Thomas
Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.
A candle in the thighs
Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
Where no seed stirs,
The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
Bright as a fig;
Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.
Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
Slides like a sea;
Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
Spout to the rod
Divining in a smile the oil of tears.
Night in the sockets rounds,
Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
Day lights the bone;
Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
The winter's robes;
The film of spring is hanging from the lids.
Light breaks on secret lots,
On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
When logics dies,
The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
And blood jumps in the sun;
Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.
On October 27, 1914, in Swansea, Wales, David John Thomas and his wife Florence Hannah Thomas welcomed son Dylan Marlais Thomas into their family. David Thomas was a school teacher and gave Dylan his name after the name of a sea god in celtic mythology. Thomas’s father influenced him by sharing native Welsh traditions and classic English literature. Thomas spent his childhood enjoying the outdoors and family trips to seaside. These summers trips inspired his poem “Fern Hill.”
Thomas started writing poetry at a young age. His first poem was written at the age of twelve, entitled "The Song of the Mischievous Dog.” He continued writing throughout his teen years and left school at sixteen. His first job was a reporter for a local newspaper before moving to London in November of 1934. After his move to London Thomas published his first volume of poetry, "Eighteen Poems,” on December 18th, 1934. He was nineteen years old. Thomas met Caitlin MacNamara in April 1936. The two were married in July 1937 and the following year moved to Laugharne, Whales. Thomas and his wife had two sons and one daughter, Llewelyn Edouard Thomas was born in January 1939, Aeronwyn Bryn Thomas was born in March 1943 and Colm Garan Hart Thomas was born in 1949.
Thomas published "The Map of Love" in August 1939 and "The World I Breathe" in December 1939, in the United States. In April 1940 "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog" was published. In 1946 following the publication of "Deaths and Entrances" he began traveling to the US, touring colleges to read poetry. As Thomas's popularity grew he not only read his own poetry but other poets. Thomas’s voice was enjoyed by all that came to his readings. He was asked to record some of the poetry he read. The reading tours began to take their toll on Thomas. He began drinking more and more and his depression grew. Thomas started his fourth lecture tour in the United States in 1953.
Thomas was a recipient of the Foyle Prize in 1953. Later that year he would lose his battle with depression and alcoholism. On November 9th, 1953, Dylan Marlais Thomas died, at the age of thirty-nine, at St. Vincents Hospital in New York City. It was reported that he died from alcoholic poisoning. Thomas’s body was sent back home to Wales, where his grave was marked with a small wooden cross. Caitlin died in July 1994 in Italy, where she had spent most of her life after Dylan Thomas’s death. Her body was returned to Wales and is buried next to his.
I Have Longed To Move Away
by Dylan Thomas
I have longed to move away
From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terrors' continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes,
For there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper,
And the thunder of calls and notes.
I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
Neither by night's ancient fear,
The parting of hat from hair,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
Shall I fall to death's feather.
By these I would not care to die,
Half convention and half lie.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas
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 that 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.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
"Window's View"
Window’s View
Worries coming – all I see.
That’s when the window beckons me.
From here, spread out, dramatic views
of mountaintops in purple hues.
Sunlit beauty to behold –
crags and peaks, breathtaking, bold!
I gaze at a horizon vast.
My soul is tranquil; peace, at last.
I step into this day with hope,
remembering my window’s scope.
Honorable mention:
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Poetry: June 14, 2023 Issue [#12011]
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