Kevin Latham

Biography

Full time chef and long time writer, painter and photographer and runner for pleasure. Living just around the corner from where Dylan Thomas was born and able to drink tea and scribble in the park where the hunchback could be found.

Samples

Cwmdonkin Park, Sunday 25/03/2019. 9am Low sunned pale morning light, Cream and cool as milk, Laying soft blue shadows darkly Over tight trimmed lawn and Rousing beds ready to trumpet in the Clean warmth of new spring dawns. Ancient skins of twisted trees Cracked and dry like unsalved lips In winter’s winds, crack some more as The force rises, arousing vigorous and Virile swelling of trunk and branch To burst with leaf and bud and fruit. Squeak-wheeled Warbler and timid Wren Sing their joy in the bosky banks While ravening Crows compete with Gulls in a raucous chorus of avian noise As they wheel and dive in the flat blue sky And the Wood Pigeons say your dinner’s ready. Bright legged fitties and roll legged fatties Scuff and puff past slavering dogs, tongues Lolling, wet and drippy, while bed eyed owners Twitch thumbed, stare at screens while the New morning in all it’s glory passes by unseen. Wide eyed babes wobble and babble in their Start-Rites pointing and cooing at dog and bird, Leaf and twig, everything fresh and seen in Sharp bright light of new experience Soon to be forgotten in the hunt for facts For tests and a useful life. Memorial bench, empty now, except for the Ghost of Mabel Jones who still comes and sits And knits as she watches her park go by As she did for so many years until Her sad passing at the age of eighty-four Much missed by friends and family. Here is where the Hunchback lurked To walk in Dylan’s dreams Around the park with fount and Stream and Green Pavillion Coffee Shop And long abandoned bowling green. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In Memory of the Younger Self I used to know, but now I’m not sure, what It was that I forgot, to remember about times, I used to know back then, not so long ago, when I was young and knew so little but remembered it All anyway. Now yesterday is such a long time ago, time Moves so fast and memories fade with seconds Hands sweep around life’s faces half remembered From past days of youth and fun I used to know, but now, I’m not sure what it was, I forgot about, yesterday, today.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by Kevin Latham

The Crucible of Change (25/03/2020)

Alone with the Virus (24/03/2020)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/kevinlatham