Embedded Files
17/10/25
Welcome news that my poem GWERSYLL has been selected as a poem in this new anthology from Culture Matters. Gwersyll is a neolithic site now surrounded by sitka spruce plantations above Merthyr Tydfil which you reach via an illegal dump and the rusty remains of the area's industrial past. The poem explores these contradictions.
Available from the link below.
www.culturematters.org.uk/cm-publications/books/we-not-me-ni-nid-fi/
14/10/25
News that my poem A PARLIAMENT OF OWLS has been published in the anthology Rise of the Badger and the Great Shrubbery www.blackeyespublishinguk.co.uk/rise-of-the-badger-and-the-great-shrubbery
A PARLIAMENT OF OWLS
they were gamblers
and prone to disagreements
not wishing to lose face
they died in millions and then one by one
there is a documentary put together from archive
that explains it all (the voice-over is quite a hoot)
now we perch in state, weighing down boughs
having grown fat on rich meat
absorbing the gourmand choice of corpses
protein pellets turning brains
from feathered foolishness to top dog
and once instinct was trumped by thought
the wrecked technology was mended
prudent laws passed so that civic pride
was never questionable
no need for bird-brained flights of fancy
comrades in wings, we fly high above
earthly mortality, all-seeing aviators
over dumb, land-lumbering mammals
all the doves disappeared years ago
our talons are sharp, our wits sharper
as we learn to despise and grow wiser
08/09/25
Very happy to be support to David Van Cauter on the 25th of October at The Poetry Cafe, Covent Garden, London at the launch of his new collection BREATHING.
It's a free event but please click on the link below to show your interest!
04/09/25
Just come to my attention that my poem INDUSTRIAL DISEASE was part of The Fig Tree Coal Mining Special in early June. Both sides of my family were involved in Welsh mining (coal in the South, lead in the North) so that the lingering effects of mining have always been part of my life.
Here is a link and below that the poem figtreepoetry.substack.com/p/the-fig-tree-coal-mining-issue-2
Industrial Disease
in a remote cemetery
I eat my packed lunch by the derelict chapel
and read a recent gravestone
"the price of coal"
on the scratchy-arse mountain
fresh six foot excavations
workers who lived out their usefulness
take the cage one final time
to vast interlocking levels
the endless dark vein
strong men
who dug their own graves in hot dust
broken glass lungs
breathing in tightfisted capitalism
never enough money to make good
right all the wrongs
rest in the afterlife the only sure thing
my way forward
is over slagheaps
footings of the old stables and winding house
all that remains above ground
and a furious acrid fire that never burns out
20/07/25
Very happy to have my poem WARBLERS in the latest issue of Mugwort Magazine.
WARBLERS
April
and the warblers are back
boasting about the miles they flew
to get here, screaking
keep back
babies to be made, some privacy please
like pole vaulters
they bend reeds into unlikely parabolas
sling twig-woven teacup nests
demanding
flies, spiders and other dainties
24/7
tiny talons like forks, beaks like daggers
reminding me
of when I was a father
how damned tired I always was
now, I sing in the shower when no-one is around
the echo works wonders
12/06/25
Wonderful to be notified today that my poem Preacher's Chair is published on the website anthology Ghost Furniture Catalogue
ghostfurniturecatalogue.wordpress.com/2025/06/12/gareth-writer-davies-preachers-chair/
This poem was prompted by a piece of furniture in the corner of Jasper's Tea Room, Llandaff.
PREACHER’S CHAIR
Jasper’s Tea Room, Llandaff
The high spindled rack, tall and straight
as an evangelical black coated back
a portable pulpit of many miles and words
a chair for rest and work, listening and speaking
the cushion plush red, well filled with horsehair
a stern seat for the plump backside of a farmer’s adoring, pious wife
prey to the dark bacchanalian woods of Glamorgan
the sinuous track over Gospel Pass.
The preacher’s cob, a bony clothes-horse of a mare
scared easy, the Welsh country folk, unused to others
knowing only hard work and a few lines of Bible verse
but aware that credulity might be innocence denied
gathered at home or on a hillside, to watch the chair unfold
the preacher grow to his height and were quite persuaded all told
that the sky was worth more than the vault of any golden cathedral
and that God was more friend than master.
I kneel to pick up my umbrella resting by the furnitured relic
fearing nothing but sin desiring nothing but that same God.
22/04/25
Notification that the anthology To Lay Sun Into A Forest: Poems About Grief is published today via Sidhe Press in which I have a poem called An Unending Vacation
AN UNENDING VACATION
on holiday from a nest of crows
light echoes around my Cornish room
I can see the sea, this is a view
I'm backing into, slowly does it
a tanker slides unhurried westwards
along the unsounding horizon
I have a list of things not to do
and places I will not be going
lobster thermidore out of season
there will be wine, a few lines written
a white handkerchief of surrender
waves a cold hand, the quick golden sands
wide sea beckon, this moment has been
and like the slow tide keeps on coming
I think that I have wasted my life
waiting and waiting for no reason
21/04/25
Very happy to be the poem of the day on Easter Monday for Poetry Wales, with my poem MOOSE first published in their Summer edition of 2020
MOOSE
zen masticator of the woods
a cow
made from spare parts
antlers
that could hang twenty hats
lips
dopey like a french kiss
you chew the blissful cud
for days
flick away flies with your ears (a gentil giant)
mooch
the water lily muskeg
leaf stripping
with a slippery tug of the head
fat
stored in muffled mountain overcoat
you
are such a mad looking mass
velvet
linebacker shredding
shoulder pads
in mono-chrome wood wrap
you gallop
at thirty five miles per hour
lofty
gangle zoetrope
wolves snap
grizzlies claw at your snowshoe feet
brewing always brewing the good ale of your cud
long
sensitive Matthau face
mantled
in musk of fumebright green
you
the water tank on ballerina legs
18/02/25
I've been exploring Eco poetry recently whilst still trying to retain my personal style. So very happy to have my poem MAGNETIC SOUTH in the latest issue of The Alchemy Spoon. I've long been fascinated with Antarctica and hope to write some more poems about this vast continent.
www.clayhangerpress.co.uk/store/p58/The_Alchemy_Spoon_Issue_14.html#/
29/01/25
Today I am featured on the website Lothlorien Poetry Journal with four poems. A kind message from the editor never does any harm to a poet;
Thank you for sending me these fascinating poems. It is a pleasure to read and step inside your beautifully crafted work and I have now published your four sublime poems on the LPJ Blog. I like your originality of voice, subject and language, the internal atmospheres and imagery in place and time in each of these poems and look forward to reading and considering more of your wonderful work Gareth.
https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/search?q=gareth+writer-davies
ROCK SALT
comes in all shapes and colours, direct from the Himalayas
on the label is the mighty range
like a ridge of toblerone
something else I bought at the airport
as I spend my retirement, jetting
from Bangkok to Naples
grounded by Covid (a temporary distraction)
I season my dishes
and pass the time on eBay
ordering t-shirts from Vietnam, sex toys from China
the weather is wonderful in Serbia, less so in the Arctic
ice clinks, melts in my gin and tonic
as I distract myself with dreams of flight
await further instructions
AN UNATTENDED FUNERAL
a magpie croaks and jabbers
as the coffin arrives
woven willow
like a pharaonic basket of supplies
for the after-life
which you didn't believe in
the church echoes
with a prayer for the dead and the dying
you lie on a rented pedestal
as planes fly low
departures from the here and now
you are off
to somewhere hot and amazing
blazing
that you were fit and frisky
one minute
and six months later you are here
whisky at the wake
family and friends sub-dividing
keeping close the secrets they’re hiding
it's all ordained (some might say)
they get in their cars and drive away
the magpie squawks for his mate
come nest with me before it's too late
THREE GLAZED BISCUITS AND A NEEDLE AND THREAD
The busy needle punctures taut cloth
tiny holes back-filled by busy binding thread.
Hot out of the oven biscuits firm up on Mother's
1960s cooling rack that I rescued from the red skip
when we sold her last home to pay late bills and rent
a bed in the new retirement hub, where she began
to bake and roughly stitch by hand, handkerchieves
coasters for the mirrored communal dining space.
Three biscuits shine with pink and white glaze
as squinting I sew on a button, her thimble clacking
for the sake of making good and mending what is worth
keeping. Crumbs and thread, three crisp bobbin bakes
as we clear her sunlit bedsit of needlework and quilts.
We have promised not to speak, as we repair all the small tears
those thick fingered attempts at sobriety, late, hollow-cheeked
tremendous as she took one long breath, tried to make things right.
GOING TO THE OPERA
I used to go with a member of the chorus (I mean we were sexual
partners) She was already up on the stage, acting up a storm and
adding colour. It was just a job to her though the tours were frolics.
Any rough old plot is better with music and when the orchestra
swells and the Marriage of Figaro really hits its straps, you stop
thinking of her starkers and forget the director’s terrible reputation
for oropharyngeal violence, as there’s enough of that entering stage
left as the Italian bass gets his solo. If it wasn’t for bad behaviour
would opera be so popular and rake in government money?
When there are crooks treading the boards like pantomime dames
we are less likely to spot crooks in the boardroom. Music falsifies
adds glamour and intrigue to some pretty sordid and indecent conduct.
At some point most of us compromise our heart and ambitions
and opera is misery made beautiful. This alone is worth the subsidy.
Very happy to have my poem, A Lack of Sleep Will Be The End of Me in the Winter edition of London Grip. A prestigious website for poetry with some good names in this latest issue.
londongrip.co.uk/2024/11/london-grip-new-poetry-winter-2024/
A LACK OF SLEEP WILL BE THE END OF ME
and I am awake, in the middle of the night
fretting
that I am naked in residential streets
no matter
no chaffy gossips peeking through curtains
calling police
there is no sex-feast in public gardens
nor five fingered shopping
I am fresh, clean shaven
like a film star Adam
my only weapon
words of narration
as if in a documentary, an approaching man
who grows larger
and larger (with a microphone)
what went on here and how do you feel about it?
04/11/24
Received my copy of These Pages Sing today through the post, a glossy and very well put together Welsh literary magazine in which my poem IN THE RADNORSHIRE HILLS appears. I'm very happy to be in such a terrific production.
27/10/24
Sadly, this is the last edition of the fine Scottish poetry magazine Dreich, which I only discovered a couple of years back but was happy to sneak some poems into. But happy 100th to the mag and its editor Jack Caradoc! Here is my poem SWANS ON ICE
19/10/24
Very happy to be shortlisted for the 2024 Bridport Poetry Prize. I was previously shortlisted twice but this news comes at a good time with a couple of proposals in the fire.
22/08/24
Lovely to get an acceptance from the quality magazine The Amphibian for my poem CAT LOVE which in a twist portrays cats not as joyful companions but as harbingers of death one of their many folkloric roles
CAT LOVE
A cat knows when it’s going to die and so it was with my Mother.
She was wheeled into the nursing home and turned her face
to the wall. Then as the dementia sweetened, became quite
the old dear, flirting with the nurses and peeing only when told to.
She made friends with the house cat (a species she had hated)
enjoying the warmth that emanated from fur and cat humour, ironic
as she was often called catty and like a scar had worn it proudly.
Then the dreams started like a campaign of bombing, dark nights
lost in a forest of bones, days burning through to ashes. The cat
having seen this all before, abandoned her for another.
Mother couldn’t wait to die, so we arranged it, with words of treason
and a morphine trigger and the cat returned for a day or two
like one of those Dickensian nurses with sly, deep pockets.
I admired the cat for its sense of timing. Mother died and was found
mid-morning, tabby licking her paws and chasing a feather. At least
a cat is all cat until the gig is up; they don’t linger or dream of their demise
it’s not in their nature, to question the one thing that is certain. Neither
did Mother, though she had five years to grieve it, losing her self
to tea cups of sulphur. Cats don’t back down and nor did she.
But once God has a mouse, he has his fun, then kills it.
29/07/24
Extremely happy to have five poems in the Lammas edition of Littoral Magazine It's a nature, spirituality issue which is really up my street; below is a link to a PDF where the new issue is available for free. Littoral also has a publishing arm for any poets seeking publication. Thank you Mervyn.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mtb8-LcGsI7tM98fXIPhkt0pjiL68IrW/view?usp=sharing
26/07/24
I've been waiting for this magazine for some time, as the poems were taken by the editor last Summer with the proviso that issue 40 had a long time delay. I agreed as this is a fine long established magazine and I am in the company of some fine poets in this issue. Both poems are about trash and what we do with it; Golden Dustmen has a political point to make.
19/07/24
Very happy to be in Haiku Avenue 3 with three haiku; the magazine is available at the link below. Something of a departure for me as when I write form poems I tend to write sijo, but concision comes naturally to me so perhaps there will more haiku in my writing.
https://amzn.eu/d/0iZpJPml
02/05/24
Very happy to be in the eighth issue of the fine magazine The Madrigal with my poem Now It's Been Two Years. Written about the aftermath of my Mother's death I think it has a wry sadness, though others might call it bitter/sweet. Thank you Helen and Tomás.
https://www.themadrigalpress.com/post/now-it-s-been-two-years
NOW IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS
and the frost feathering the windows
is outside
which you always complained about
the house
was too damn hot
and you couldn't catch your breath
the cat
got your worn out tongue, Mother
we kept the rest
in a jar
thinking that if anyone could make a sign
you could
are you now ready as bonemeal
to be spread
to grow a tree in a memorial garden
or feed a hungry fox?
we made you mute (sorry about that)
but I've left the window open a crack
take a deep breathe of dust
emanate
I have a fine mesh net in one hand
in the other a hoover
25/04/24
25/04/24
In the post today I received my copy of Issue Ten of Spelt Magazine, which contains my second placed poem in the Spelt Poetry Competition. A fine, well produced magazine that is worth a purchase.
19/03/24
19/03/24
I'd rather forgotten this, but news that my poem PURBLIND AND FONT is the introduction to a chapter of a book launched at the Institute of Pyschoanalysis last week. An unusual style of poem for me and based on observations of my own Mother's dementia.
22/02/24
I'm very pleased to have received my copy of DREICH today which features a couple of my poems, IN THE GARDEN and ON THE ESPLANADE.
Curated by Jack Caradoc this issue is available via the website at hybriddreich.co.uk/
02/02/24
02/02/24
I was very pleased to appear at the Poetry Pharmacy in Bishop's Castle, run by the lovely Deb Alma, under the Verbatim poetry banner. A splendid space to perform in and a large, receptive crowd; what could be better for a poet at the end of a dull January, with new books to read from! Great quality of open-micers; I would recommend Verbatim poetry evenings (last Wednesday of each month, if you're in the area)
02/02/24
Very pleased to find earlier this week that I was runner up in the Mid Wales section of the Cambrian Mountain Society with my poem Red Flags which is about the mass evacuation of The Epynt near Brecon during World War 2. There will be a celebration of the prize winning poems on March 2nd at the library in Pontrhydfendigaid from 3pm to 6pm which will also be a celebration of the two languages of Wales. More details on the link below;
https://www.cambrian-mountains.co.uk/poetry/2023/
RED FLAGS
on The Epynt
there are blocks of conifers like sombre mansions
replicating châteaux and schlossen
sylvan war games
from the last century
wooden tanks and inflatable paratroops
we’re all safer for it
though when the bombshell was dropped
by the suave English captain and pretty ATS girl
hedges were still cut
ditches dug and the sabulous fields ploughed
as the war wasn’t going to last forever
sixty odd years later
the war in Cilieni and Gwybedog loiters like a trespasser
and farmhouses have been blasted to wind
for no reason but a soldier’s lesson
the squares of conifers will be harvested
and some profit made from shrapnel
but you can’t put a price on coercion and gunnery dispersal
or our Father’s house
nor a Mother’s hope for her children
the end of all that
came to The Epynt whilst the whole world was raging
shoot the horses
and blow up the chapel
red flags are a threat as well as a warning
24/01/24
It's been a delight over the last few months to see a new poetry night in Cardiff emerge, especially in an under-served part of the city. This is Tiger Bay Poetry, held about every month at the once-famous, now reborn Casablanca Club in Cardiff Bay. The indefatigable and charming host each evening is Québécoise Natasha Gauthier, who has managed to attract some top names in Welsh poetry to perform, including Chris Meredith and Mike Jenkins, to name just a couple. Diversity is a speciality as well as showcasing up-and-coming talent. More power to her elbow and long may it continue!
23/01/24
I was delighted to watch Damian Walford Davies perform at Tiger Bay Poetry last week, where he read from his latest volume, Viva Bartali! As a couplet poet, I was intrigued that the whole volume consists of poems written in nine couplets. This form works well in what is an obsessive collection exploring the life of Gino Bartali, Italian champion cyclist and unsuspected resistance agent during WWII. Damian divulged that he had no interest in Bartali or cycling before coming across his story; he is now a keen cyclist! I thoroughly recommend this book, available from Seren.
Images courtesy of Seren
23/01/24
On 31 January, I am appearing at The Poetry Pharmacy's Verbatim open mic night in Bishop's Castle. I shall be reading new poems as well as from previous publications, including my last collection, WYSG. This will be my first gig of the new year and I'm very much looking forward to performing at this quirky venue. It will be great to catch up with poetry friends and hopefully make new ones!
14/11/23
My poem, Before Testing Positive Again for Covid, is now up on Wishbone Words (Issue 12)
This issue is all about chronic illness; they are some very affecting poems in this issue.
13/11/23
I am one of the featured poets in issue nine of Fenland Poetry Journal, with my poem Ty Bach. A renovation project for a building and myself.
08/11/23
I received my copy of Cake Magazine today (issue 13) which contains three poems of mine; Looking Up, The Green Muse and Frog Spawn on Cefn Cyff. The last poem I was especially pleased to have printed as Cefn Cyff is part of the Brecon Beacons and I'll never forget finding frog spawn at 700m and wondering how it got there. This issue, which is edited by the English and Creative Writing Department at Lancaster University also features an interview with the celebrated poet Paul Muldoon.
06/11/23
My poem Gilestone Standing Stone is poem of the day today on Ink, Sweat and Tears. Very pleased to have a poem with a local theme up on this prestigious site. The stone is quite difficult to find, hidden in a hedge, but once found one marvels at the size; now the farm on which it stands is the subject of some controversy following a sale to the Welsh Government; just another story for the stone to tell.
12/10/23
My poem Sudden Faith of a Junior Choirmaster can be found in the latest issue of The Pomegranate, a bi-annual art and literary magazine based in London. The wonderful illustration is Opus58 (2021) by the American painter Shelton Walsmith.
11/10/23
Travelled up to the Wirral Poetry Festival to read my poem Above Aberaeron which finished first in the Wirral Poetry Festival Competition. The awards ceremony was on the last afternoon; congratulations to the other winners and commended poets. I really enjoyed the poetry slam in the evening, where my partner performed excellently. Many thanks to the organisers and the chief judge David Costello, who said he was surprised it was me as it wasn't in my usual style.
01/09/23
La Vie Rurale was awarded second place in the 2023 Spelt Poetry Competition. I'm very pleased and the judge Jane Burn said some lovely things;
La Vie Rurale was a poem that crept up on me, revealing itself, through aesthetically lean couplets, so very carefully from verse to verse. Its concept is expressed so carefully, delicately and achingly. I found so much ‘room’ inside it as a reader – its spareness in the handling of its subject was to its benefit.....Click on the link above to see more!
12/08/23
The National Poetry Library, housed in London's Royal Festival Hall, is the largest collection of modern poetry in the world. I've been in London this week helping my daughters move and I popped in for a visit. I was pleased to see they had a copy of my latest collection, Wysg, along with my other publications. The Library is free to visit and is a wonderful resource for poets and poetry lovers--make sure to drop in if you're in London.
12/08/23
I have three poems appearing in the first issue of RECESSES poetry magazine. I've also had acceptances from Ink, Sweat and Tears, Pomegranate and Wishbone this week for publications in the Autumn; details in due course.
09/08/23
I've recently had some good news: first place in the Wirral Poetry Festival Competition. I'll be attending the prize-giving ceremony on The Wirral in October, but in the meantime you can read it in the Poems section.
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