Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

My Land

by Robert Harding

My Wales, my land.
My ball is round not oval.
A flag of confusion.
A nation unknown.
Unlikely survival
Reaches over the centuries.
A history of annihilation but still with
Hope for recognition.
Famous celtic brothers.
Punching above our weight.
Existence is our victory.
Individuals known across the world whilst their country remained blank.
Alcoholic poets, passionate actors and Vegas singers.
An intelligent quietness.
The mongrelisation from the borders.
Rough ends and housing estates
Shelter displaced youths and strong elders.
Pride in my tree wherever it stands.
Hard men once trekked to the day at the pit,
Walking to their death one day if not today.
Singing with their little pick and shovel.
Hard women hammer in the supports.
Drunken men now sit in clubs, empty vessels with empty vessels.
The north looks to the Lancastrian not the Tudor.
The middle is nowhere.
England is found west as well east.
The prevalent south manages to avoid overcrowding.
Daunting hills of staggered streets and back yard views.
I live in a city-town with ambitions.
My land, my Wales.

Added: 08.03.2010