Poems For People

I wrote this one on a recent visit to Australia. I love regional accents, but we do talk "funny" in the Rhondda! It's a song to the tune of Fulsom Prison Blues by the great Johnny Cash. Listen to the tune first, then the poem will make more sense!
Rhondda Accent Blues by Julie Croad.
... I’m proud to be a Rhondda girl, born there long ago. Folks say that we talk strangely there but I don’t think that’s so. ‘Cos I never had a problem until I worked away. Now when I speak to certain people, they can’t understand what I say!
When I was just a teenager my mamma said, “Oi mun, you’ve stopped talking proper since your working life’s begun.” ‘Cos I got a job in Cardiff and folks would laugh and stare when I said “Now, in a minute” and “It’s over down by there.”
Well, they ate lunch when I had dinner, ate their dinner when I had tea. I tried to make my accent sound more Home Counties, BBC. But when you’re from the Rhondda, you can’t change your style. Although your valley accent makes other people smile!
Now, I’ve been around this big ‘ole world and everywhere I go, I can’t disguise my Welsh accent. Do I want to? NO! But it’s only in the Rhondda that special South Wales niche where all the folks talk tidy… and understand my speech!
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A little something for the Winter weather!
Cheer up its Winter © Julie Croad
... Winter’s not so bad, you know, comfort food and candle glow. From the cold, no need to hide, just dress up warm when you’re outside. Scarves and hats, socks and gloves, cuddle up to those you love. Morning frost upon the grass frozen lakes look just like glass. Rosie cheeks and happy faces, silent snowfall on high places. If you’re out on a clear night the silver moon’s a wondrous sight. Then settle down by a roaring fire crackling logs and flames dance higher. Not forgetting Yuletide cheer, this maybe the best time of the year!
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The Beddau Library Creative Writing Group Anthology.

For the last 2 years I have been running a Creative Writing group in Beddau Library in Beddau. The members write fantastic stories and poems and recently we put together an anthology of our work. This is one of my pieces which was inspired by a painting a friend did on a greeting card: Watchers in the Wood © Julie Croad Nov 2016
Next time you think it pleasant to step out for a walk... amid the forest scenery, for company and talk.
Be cautious, there are watchers along each wooded path, within each glade and coppice. They’re full of envy, greed and wrath.
Although you may not see them and maybe unaware - your steps are tirelessly noted by lidless eyes with hollow stare.
The hordes of watchers in the forest never make a sound. Yet observe your passing closely from on high and near the ground.
Your words of conversation will float away upon a breeze. Along to where the watchers are cunningly concealed.
If you pause for just a moment beneath an oak or elm, close to an ancient larch or spruce within the woodland realm.
Look closely, you may catch a glimpse of a gnarled and woody face. Should you see, then heed my words and hasten from the place.
For the watchers were not always as they now appear to be. A collection of knots and furrows on the bark of ageless trees. They were once animated, and walked the forest trails. Complaining of injustices, telling sorry, selfish tales.
Never helping others. Were self-centred, crass and loud. Mistreated other humans. Remained uncaring, cruel, and proud.
They were punished for their deeds, made to compensate. By evaluating others, judging life’s mistakes they make.
So the watchers gaze upon you with eyes that penetrate your soul. They examine what’s concealed there. Is your heart as black as coal?
Be fearful how they judge you - they’ve a craving to be free. Will you satisfy their hunger? Just stretch out and touch their tree.
If you do then you’ll be spellbound, mystified and lost. Re-living all your past misdeeds and left to count the cost.
So when you next walk in the forest, take care before you start. Or you’ll become one of the watchers forever with a wooden heart.
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Once again, thank you for all the new likes. Ever relivant, this one came to me a while ago. If only more people would listen.
Prayer for Life. © Julie Croad April 2017
... My realm is the land though I leave no steps. I can breathe in the oceans down to hidden depths. I soar through the skies, to heaven I am bent. Who knows where I came from or where I’ll be sent. Ranging high in the mountains where the air’s chill and thin. I’m in fertile valleys lingering still. In the midst of the greenwood I make my home. Across the vast deserts I’m happy to roam. I can swim up the rivers against all the tides. The tallest of treetops is where I reside. Look for me in meadows and fields of wild flowers. I linger down on the sea shore counting the hours. I’m found in the ice all glossy and white. Caves deep in the earth ever black as the night. Each one of you knows me for I’m everywhere. But many don’t see me, or sense that I’m there. Some try to extinguish the light in my eyes With misunderstanding intolerance, lies. There are few that appreciate the gifts I can give – positivity, joy and contentment to live. Small changes can alter our world for the good. It may well be hard, but you know that you should- respect one another and all that’s around. Tiny birds in the sky crawling things underground. Help your fellow humans, give them what they need What matters skin colour, religion or creed? Give a hug or a handshake lose the gun, bomb or knife. Recognise I am precious - because my name is life.
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It is the pagan festival of Imboc today, when the wheel of the year turns and spring begins to be felt in the air and the earth. Here is a poem for and about the earth mother and her effect on nature through the year:
Pagan Parable © Julie Croad
... She walks the cold ground, her tread light as a snowflake. hardly felt. Across meadows and glistening countryside she passes. Hardly noticed. In bare woodland long, thin fingers point accusingly – “You have forgotten us.”
Her footsteps fall heavier, sensed now by the land which re-awakens. Her breath - a mild breeze stirring grasses, rippling ponds and meres. Snowdrops no more. The land warms and life is recalled where she passes.
Dressed in mature red her footsteps heavy she surveys her work - and is content. Time to nod in the sun, delight in blue skies. Long days trailing fingers in cool water - insect music strums the air. Her world – slow, easy.
Her tread, like her heart, becomes heavy suddenly aware of death’s approach. She is eternal. He is not. Yet he awakens again with her. She will keep him safe until his time comes. Till the she sleeps - the land mourns her absence.
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My book The Important Things in Life is now part of the Octavio Publishing family and can now be purchased via their website at http://octavopublishing.com/authors/julie -croad It is an eclectic mix of humerous and serious poems, rhyming and non rhyming styles. Seventy odd original poems all for the bargain price of £7.99! Visit the page to see a horrible picture of me before I get it changed!!!

I heard at the wekend that 3 of my childrens' poems have been accepted into an anthology to be published in October. A Baboon in the Moon is alteady available in book form (see pic above) and below is another. Fridge Moster was inspired when I opened my fridge one morning to be greeted by am awful smell and I thought, "it smells like monsters breath in there." Strange where inspiration comes from! Hope you like it. Fridge Monster © Julie Croad Feb 2015
A monster lives in... our fridge! He likes to nibble the cheese. Gobbles up yoghurt and cream and dresses in green lettuce leaves.
A monster lives in our fridge! Mum thinks I must be barmy. But I know he’s there because he smells like rotten salami.
A monster lives in our fridge! He sits at a small mushroom table. Loves cucumber sarnies for tea, eats smoked salmon when he is able.
A monster lives in our fridge! He tells me he’s here to stay he gobbles up salad greens and left over chicken satay.
A monster lives in our fridge! He swims around in the milk. His footprints appear in soft fruit, he has a good life, I think.
A monster lives in our fridge! I don’t know exactly where. He’s quite invisible see. I just smell his foul breath on the air.
A monster lived in our fridge. Until mum cleaned it one day. I can’t smell him anymore - he packed up and moved far away.
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If anyone is in the Cardiff Bay area on Sunday 31st July, pop into th Octavio Book and Cafe Bar, West Bute Street for a FREE event of poetry readings. I'll be there with other poets, and the coffee and cakes are great! https://www.facebook.com/OctavosBookCafe/

I was recently amazed to win the Cardiff and Vale Inspire Literary Award. Thank you Cardiff and Vale.

Looking forward to attending this event in September. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1 0153602280745823&set=gm.999552770141 805&type=3

I hosted a fundraising event on for Macmillan Cancer Support on Friday 13th. It was a fantasic evening at which we raised a huge £250. A few people suggested I write something...the following sort of sums up the night.
A Frighteningly Good Night ©Julie Croad May 2016
... Folks came from miles and miles around on that warm evening in May. Packed inside a little semi holistic treatments for to pay. They queued up for the curry, the wine flowed red and white. The nibbles looked delicious on this fundraising night. They experienced fantastic facials that melted cares like summer snow, for the Indian Head Massage treatments, a long way they would go. The foot reading was revealing, Judith knows what she’s about. She told them about their feelings and how to sort their bad things out. They chatted and met some new friends – some had a cup of tea. All raised funds for Macmillan that would be used for those in need. A very pleasant evening, all agreed was clear. So many thanks and see you all again… about same time next year?
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I haven't written for an age, this is a much neglected page. With all of you I should engage. Sometimes life puts me in a cage.
I'll without causing revolution I must make a resolution to make a regular contribution. Just hope I have the constitution!

I had a wonderful morning! Back last year I saw a call for submissions and poetry for a new mental health unit at a local hospital. I submitted several of my poems and 2 were accepted. Today, all the contributors were invited to see their work in situ. I was expecting to see an A4 size frame on the wall and instead I saw this. The lovely artist is Amelia Thomas. Thank you Amelia for making my words look so wonderful!

I was sending material to a friend for possible publication in an ezine. I asked the question "is there a theme?" He replied No, just send words that relect you." That phrase got me thinking...words that reflect me... The result was a poem called Reflections which I have posted below. If we all could do this, I believe we would all be happier people! This is the un-edited version so apologies for any gramatical errors.
Reflections © Julie Croad August 2015
... You asked for words that reflect me. So I will answer truthfully. Use words set out in poetry to explain what you cannot see.
At times I crave others company. Meet up with friends or family. Enjoy the good times socially or share my hospitality.
Not often but occasionally It’s solo that I yearn to be. To be alone is not lonely because I like to be with me.
For when I am solitary away from life’s diversities I turn my glance inside to see both good and bad that is revealed.
And I accept all that I see, the anger, pain the jealousy kindness and the empathy are all things that make up me.
I’m discovering who I’m meant to be. Each day a new activity. Volunteering for a charity, Lots of new hilarity.
Being solo is no adversity. Understand yourself and you can be in complete and utter harmony with this world and everything you see
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