It’s a funny old world, not necessarily the funny that makes you laugh, although I can still manage a wry smile for the tragedy that is humour.
I started this year with a poem, by Dannie Abse, the poet brother of politician Leo Abse.
I rather pre-empted the New Year by posting this short poem, about last words, an hour or so before the bells and fireworks marked the end to that dismal year called 2023 and ushered in a bright young thing called 2024. Yet I consider that to be my first poetical offering of the New Year
If I was to tell you that tomorrow’s poem is by Aphra Behn I wonder if you will spot the sequence I intend to offer in poetry this year.
I would normally say that I hope to offer you 365 poems but, as I said, it’s a funny old world and as 2024 is a leap year (the year is divisible by four) you will get a bonus at the end of February.
I’m seeing the year ahead as a mighty tree which, if cut down, could be turned into anything from a chair to sit on, or a table to eat at, or paper to write on (write a novel, write a poem, write a letter to a friend).
Yet it could also be a seed from which a mighty oak might grow to suck up the carbon dioxide which could kill us and provide us with the oxygen we need to survive.
We can only have trees, however, if we let them grow apace and produce more trees than we actually use up.
So let us take 2024 and try to look after it better than we did last year.
Blwyddyn Newydd Dda
Robin's Nest 