Poems 20

                              By Llyn Idwal

 We came to Llyn Idwal – to lonely Llyn Idwal,

When twilight to darkness was stealthily creeping

Watched the slow shadows step down to Llyn Idwal

Watched till it seemed that all nature was sleeping.


With shadows the mountains were peopled – with shadows

The tall cliffs were muffled: the silence prevailing

Seemed speech more eloquent than day’s sunny shadows

Seemed words that our hearts –that our souls were inhaling.


We sat by the waters – sat close to the waters,

Rippling, dim-sighted, in dark wavelets playing

Sat by the shore and gazed over the waters

And wondered what waters and mountains were saying.            Easter Sunday night 1926


                          Just You and Me


There’s me and you, Fred, just we two

          There’s just we two remaining

While one by one they’ve slowly gone

          Some future state attaining.


In many ways those bygone days

          Will strike their symphony

So long we’ve known them as our own

          Our jocund little company.

We’ll drink our fill of memory still,

          Those golden days behind us

But you and me, we still are free….

          And free for long they’ll find us.


There’s me and you, Fred, just we two –

          We’ve braved some squally weather

And wind and rain we’ll brave again –

          Just you and me together.                                       January 1930



It Couldn’t be Done….!


All of us thought that it couldn’t be done –

Our bachelor clan was united;

Our vows had us solidly welded as one –

Our union couldn’t be slighted

But with the first shock, our Pillar of Rock –

Our pillar shook till it shattered

When Bill came along and sounded the gong

As he told us – and asked if it mattered.


The way of a woman (what little I know)

Is, as soon as she can, to be married

And sad to relate, at the first hammer blow

Our ideals in ruins lay buried

“Love and Leave” was Jack’s text, but Jack was the next

He fell and he raised no objection

Then, just as we feared, Hindley Fred disappeared –

He went without pause for reflection.


The way of a woman (what little I know)

Is, as soon as she can, to be married:

And the number which left us continued to grow

Till at last only three of us tarried

Now Tom, Fred and me, we swore did we three –

We swore that we’d never be divided

We swore – but what use, we were chasing the goose

A woman it was who decided!                                            June 1929


Poems 19



I’ve tried my best to celebrate

          The We.R.7 clan

In differing time, and varying rhyme

          You’ve met them, every man.


Some have gone, and some remain,

          (How long I cannot tell),

And some are new, and not a few

          Just came…and went…and fell!


‘Twas mostly by the ‘weaker sex’

          They met their Waterloo –

Those who have gone, yet not a one,

          Will hold this stanza true.


Yet true it is, and every line

          Of those I’ve wrote before:

They boast no wit, but still they hit

          In tender spots, and sore!


In constancy, the We.R.7,

          Are like a tidal river –

They ebb and flow, and come and go

          Yet I go on for ever.                          2 May 1929


Today’s the Day


Of bygone days we dream our dreams

          And clothe them in a rosy hue

Until the past with richness gleams

          That never can be true.


We oft forget the darker hours

          And add our sunshine to the scene

We strew our way with pretty flowers

          That never could have been.


Why can’t we be as others are?

          Our fireside critics oft exclaim

Maybe this life without it’d dare

          Wouldn’t seem the same.


We take our chances on the road

          We face the the worst with cheerful smile

We never question, but the load

          Has always seemed worthwhile.


Lets dream our dreams of days gone by

          Lets deck with flowers our future way

But –  see how quick the moments fly –

          The best is here – today!

                                                                                          Winter 1928



Poems 18

                      Ride a Bike

 If you’d brighter days be stealing – Ride a Bike

For that ‘grand and glorious feeling’ –  Ride a Bike

          When you’re feeling kind of weary

          And the days seem drab and dreary

There’s one way out that’s cheery – Ride a Bike


If you’d know the thrill of racing – Ride a Bike

The fleeting miles displacing – Ride a Bike

          You’ll declare that nothing ever

          Can your new found pastime sever

And you’ll pity those who never – Ride a Bike


If at holidays you’re touring – Ride a Bike

If you’d make each day alluring – Ride a Bike

          There’s the Open Road before you

          There’s the blue sky always o’er you

Why the more you’re out, the more you – Ride a Bike


If companions you’d be meeting – Ride a Bike

For you they have a greeting – Ride a Bike

          If all these joys you’d win to –

          If you’re troubles you’d cut in two

You only need begin to – Ride a Bike!


                          A Tale of Two Cyclists       (Which summarises the story ‘Whacked’)

Two cyclists of our local clan

          Now claim your kind attention

Each thought he was a superman –

          Their names I will not mention

          (They took me in their confidence

          Believing that I had the sense

          To hold my tongue, and I’d do wrong

Their names to even mention).


A tandem once they both bestrode

          (‘Twas wild and wintry weather)

And just like supermen they rode –

          So well they ‘nicked’ together;

And with the speed of Hercules

          Aided by a goodly breeze

          They crossed the vales, of Northeast Wales

So well they ‘nicked’ together.


A hundred miles they passed ere noon

          The wind was strong behind them

And though they’d have to face it soon

‘Twas useless to remind them,

          Not till they’d sighted Snowdon’s peak

          Did they their mid-day luncheon seek

          And while they fed, with pride they said –

“Our pals – how we’ll remind them!”


At last they started homewards bent

          The icy gale before them

From slow to slower still they went

          As quick the winds outwore them

With bodies chilled, and frozen feet

And faces cut with stinging sleet,

          They tottered on, few miles they’d gone

Ere dark had fallen o’er them.


Oft beaten still, and always slow –

          This was exasperation!

With yet o’er seventy miles to go

          They reached a railway station

(Dear reader let me draw a veil

          On how they joined the iron trail –

The truth is plain, the railway train,

Did save the situation.


Pride goes before a fall, you know,

          If you out judge the distance;

And winds that first behind you blow

          May soon give stern resistance

So let this tale a lesson be

          When breezes speed you merrily

Each mile you tack, seems two more back

          And cyclists spurn assistance.


The above poem deals with a true story played out by Charlie and his tandem owning friend Jack on a December trip to North Wales.  The story is related elsewhere under the title ‘Whacked’  (Page 164 in Volume Four of Charlie’s memoirs).