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You may contact individual poets via the text hyper-link attached to their name.
Seren Cymru A’r Byd.. by Derek Davies
It is written in stone
Seren Cymru A’r Byd;
Memorial to a legend
One so graced to succeed..
That stone tells that very story
How his world there was won;
Treasured in the vaults of time now forever
Port Talbot’s first son.
Born of humble beginnings
Richard Jenkins his name;
With a voice so eloquently commanding
Of one so destined for fame..
The Spirit of Burton
Roams this here fair land;
Where the ghosts of a thousand Welsh choirs
Make this their last stand.
An acting sensation
First prince of South Wales;
From Pontrhydyfen, Cwmafan and down through the valleys
We shall speak of these tales.
Richard Burton our proud Welsh legend
That name speaks of fine wine;
Seren Cymru a’r Byd
Shines that star for all time…
Welsh version of Seren Cymru A’r Byd.. by Derek Davies
Mae wedi ei ysgrifennu mewn carreg
Seren Cymru A’r Byd;
Cofeb i chwedl
Un mor falch o lwyddo..
Mae'r garreg honno'n dweud yr union stori honno
Pa fodd yr enillwyd ei fyd yno ;
Wedi'i drysori yng nghladdgelloedd amser nawr am byth
Mab cyntaf Port Talbot.
Wedi ei eni o ddechreuadau distadl
Richard Jenkins ei enw;
Gyda llais mor huawdl gorchymyn
Un sydd mor dyngedfennol i enwogrwydd..
Ysbryd Burton
Crwydro hon yma dir teg;
Lle mae ysbrydion mil o gorau Cymreig
Gwnewch hwn yn safiad olaf iddynt.
Synhwyriad actio
Tywysog cyntaf De Cymru;
O Bontrhydyfen, Cwmafan ac i lawr drwy'r cymoedd
Cawn son am y chwedlau hyn.
Richard Burton ein chwedl Gymreig balch
Mae'r enw hwnnw'n sôn am win coeth;
Seren Cymru a’r Byd
Yn disgleirio'r seren honno am byth ...
A legend In Time / Richard Burton by Derek Davies
He came from the valleys
With a voice so sublime;
So much loved the world over
Such a legend in time.
He acted with passion
And he spoke with such grace;
So amazing a talent
Such a special Welsh ace.
From the village he came from
Dear old Pontrhydyfen;
From the coal pits in the valleys
Where boys became men.
Port Talbots First Son
They call him around here;
Though he loved his Welsh background
And especially the beer.
He was passionate about the language
And adored the Welsh songs;
So much cherished in Wales
Where this legend belongs.
Still his memory lives on forever
Of that I am certain;
For we will never forget
The Great Richard Burton.
Port Talbots Got A Banksy... by Derek Davies
Banksy did this artwork
sprayed upon a wall;
In a town where steel is made
where ghosts of legends call.
The town that Richard Burton loved
with passion spoke its name; Where men are made, and good folk dwell,
amongst the fire and flame.
A magic place, that people love,
with a golden seafront shore;
Happy smiling summer days
that take us back once more.
So many happy sunshine years
Aberavon’s famous sands;
Thousands came from miles around,
we had time then in our hands.
Port Talbot holds so many gems
It’s a special place to be;
And its Memories live with me forever,
what a lovely sight to see.
Now the town has suffered dearly,
In that town that’s made from steel; But you cannot take away their lives,
it’s how the people feel.
Proud people, happy souls,
In that town where legends roam; Carry on their daily lives,
In the place that they call home.
So I thank you Banksy
for what you did,
It’s heartfelt deep inside;
Highlighting this great town where we live, one that’s loved for all with pride.
The Big Bridge / Y Bont Fawr.. by Derek Davies
For years this iconic bridge has stood
So majestic, loved by all;
One beautiful attraction to the naked eye,
So very elegant there standing tall..
They call it “The Big Bridge”
“Y Bont Fawr”
As the locals around here know it best;
A engineering feat, of a by gone age
A bridge so revered, so blessed.
That magnificent bridge of Pontrydyfen
What stories its structure there holds;
Guardian of the village
That expansion, steadfast, so bold..
One picture of beauty, constructed in stone
That echoes a long gone industrial past;
Near the village of legends
Richard Burton, Ivor Emmanuel
Where the first sons of this village were cast..
Now its spirit will live on forever
Much loved there, so divine;
Y Bont Fawr, Pontrydyfens big bridge
That will stay in our hearts for all time..
The Burton Bantam Of Taibach.. by Derek Davies
The Burton bantam of Taibach
A clucking there he came;
Along that path, to where that legend once roamed
In that town of steel and of flame..
The ghost of 73 Caradoc Street
Burtons spirit come alive;
Guardian of Richards former home
For this bantam now has arrived..
Some say this bird is the actual reincarnation
Burtons spirit in animal form;
Others say, it was sent from heaven above
And that his angel now is born…
The Burton Bantam of Taibach
Such a delightful sight to see;
A warm and charming little picture of fun
That brings joy in this world that we see..
Richard Burton 100 Years…. by Derek Davies
Happy Birthday Richard Burton
For your spirit still shines on;
A spirit that re ignites this of this town of steel
Now those once proud jobs are gone.
Pontrydyfen’s great acting hero
That star there once our light;
With a voice that cut, right through the clouds
Of ash that lit the night..
Choirs of angels sing songs of hope
Flying high there looking down;
Over that proud town of steel
Port Talbot Burton’s town.
Now his spirit lives deep in all of us
We are its fire and its flame;
To rise up from the ashes once more
And to be proud once again
So Happy 100th Birthday Richard Burton
For your light should see us through;
Looking down from Heaven above
On this town that still loves you.
It is written in stone
Seren Cymru A’r Byd;
Memorial to a legend
One so graced to succeed..
That stone tells that very story
How his world there was won;
Treasured in the vaults of time now forever
Port Talbot’s first son.
Born of humble beginnings
Richard Jenkins his name;
With a voice so eloquently commanding
Of one so destined for fame..
The Spirit of Burton
Roams this here fair land;
Where the ghosts of a thousand Welsh choirs
Make this their last stand.
An acting sensation
First prince of South Wales;
From Pontrhydyfen, Cwmafan and down through the valleys
We shall speak of these tales.
Richard Burton our proud Welsh legend
That name speaks of fine wine;
Seren Cymru a’r Byd
Shines that star for all time…
Welsh version of Seren Cymru A’r Byd.. by Derek Davies
Mae wedi ei ysgrifennu mewn carreg
Seren Cymru A’r Byd;
Cofeb i chwedl
Un mor falch o lwyddo..
Mae'r garreg honno'n dweud yr union stori honno
Pa fodd yr enillwyd ei fyd yno ;
Wedi'i drysori yng nghladdgelloedd amser nawr am byth
Mab cyntaf Port Talbot.
Wedi ei eni o ddechreuadau distadl
Richard Jenkins ei enw;
Gyda llais mor huawdl gorchymyn
Un sydd mor dyngedfennol i enwogrwydd..
Ysbryd Burton
Crwydro hon yma dir teg;
Lle mae ysbrydion mil o gorau Cymreig
Gwnewch hwn yn safiad olaf iddynt.
Synhwyriad actio
Tywysog cyntaf De Cymru;
O Bontrhydyfen, Cwmafan ac i lawr drwy'r cymoedd
Cawn son am y chwedlau hyn.
Richard Burton ein chwedl Gymreig balch
Mae'r enw hwnnw'n sôn am win coeth;
Seren Cymru a’r Byd
Yn disgleirio'r seren honno am byth ...
A legend In Time / Richard Burton by Derek Davies
He came from the valleys
With a voice so sublime;
So much loved the world over
Such a legend in time.
He acted with passion
And he spoke with such grace;
So amazing a talent
Such a special Welsh ace.
From the village he came from
Dear old Pontrhydyfen;
From the coal pits in the valleys
Where boys became men.
Port Talbots First Son
They call him around here;
Though he loved his Welsh background
And especially the beer.
He was passionate about the language
And adored the Welsh songs;
So much cherished in Wales
Where this legend belongs.
Still his memory lives on forever
Of that I am certain;
For we will never forget
The Great Richard Burton.
Port Talbots Got A Banksy... by Derek Davies
Banksy did this artwork
sprayed upon a wall;
In a town where steel is made
where ghosts of legends call.
The town that Richard Burton loved
with passion spoke its name; Where men are made, and good folk dwell,
amongst the fire and flame.
A magic place, that people love,
with a golden seafront shore;
Happy smiling summer days
that take us back once more.
So many happy sunshine years
Aberavon’s famous sands;
Thousands came from miles around,
we had time then in our hands.
Port Talbot holds so many gems
It’s a special place to be;
And its Memories live with me forever,
what a lovely sight to see.
Now the town has suffered dearly,
In that town that’s made from steel; But you cannot take away their lives,
it’s how the people feel.
Proud people, happy souls,
In that town where legends roam; Carry on their daily lives,
In the place that they call home.
So I thank you Banksy
for what you did,
It’s heartfelt deep inside;
Highlighting this great town where we live, one that’s loved for all with pride.
The Big Bridge / Y Bont Fawr.. by Derek Davies
For years this iconic bridge has stood
So majestic, loved by all;
One beautiful attraction to the naked eye,
So very elegant there standing tall..
They call it “The Big Bridge”
“Y Bont Fawr”
As the locals around here know it best;
A engineering feat, of a by gone age
A bridge so revered, so blessed.
That magnificent bridge of Pontrydyfen
What stories its structure there holds;
Guardian of the village
That expansion, steadfast, so bold..
One picture of beauty, constructed in stone
That echoes a long gone industrial past;
Near the village of legends
Richard Burton, Ivor Emmanuel
Where the first sons of this village were cast..
Now its spirit will live on forever
Much loved there, so divine;
Y Bont Fawr, Pontrydyfens big bridge
That will stay in our hearts for all time..
The Burton Bantam Of Taibach.. by Derek Davies
The Burton bantam of Taibach
A clucking there he came;
Along that path, to where that legend once roamed
In that town of steel and of flame..
The ghost of 73 Caradoc Street
Burtons spirit come alive;
Guardian of Richards former home
For this bantam now has arrived..
Some say this bird is the actual reincarnation
Burtons spirit in animal form;
Others say, it was sent from heaven above
And that his angel now is born…
The Burton Bantam of Taibach
Such a delightful sight to see;
A warm and charming little picture of fun
That brings joy in this world that we see..
Richard Burton 100 Years…. by Derek Davies
Happy Birthday Richard Burton
For your spirit still shines on;
A spirit that re ignites this of this town of steel
Now those once proud jobs are gone.
Pontrydyfen’s great acting hero
That star there once our light;
With a voice that cut, right through the clouds
Of ash that lit the night..
Choirs of angels sing songs of hope
Flying high there looking down;
Over that proud town of steel
Port Talbot Burton’s town.
Now his spirit lives deep in all of us
We are its fire and its flame;
To rise up from the ashes once more
And to be proud once again
So Happy 100th Birthday Richard Burton
For your light should see us through;
Looking down from Heaven above
On this town that still loves you.
Richard Bach by Mike Everley
They say you were a good wing forward
Richard bach.
Fast, with a destructive streak,
you once joked that you
would have foregone Hamlet
to pull on a Welsh jersey.
Time passes
Richard bach.
But the voice you cultivated
does not fade.
Gone the stronger accent
of The Last Days Of Dolwen
when Emlyn Williams gave
you your chance.
You sang well then Richard bach with Wales in your soul.
Of all your films, and let's be honest
some are best forgotten
and some were for beer money,
The Spy Who Came In From The Cold
suited you best.
You captured Leamas' laconic futility
in black and white perfection.
So, I lift a glass to you
Richard bach
in the Miners Arms
and when I say
"there is something rotten
in the state of Wales"
I know you would understand and approve.
Star Of Wales by Mike Everley
You strutted your hour
upon stage and screen.
Hamlet to Becket.
George to Jimmy Porter.
Bathed audiences
in silky vowels
and soft consonants.
Drank like a docker
or Celtic warrior.
Made love and were loved
in a stilted blue haze
of fags and booze.
Yet, there were moments
when you shone
like a shooting star
in the filmament.
For those you will
never be forgotten.
For those you will
always be remembered
in the soul of Wales.
They say you were a good wing forward
Richard bach.
Fast, with a destructive streak,
you once joked that you
would have foregone Hamlet
to pull on a Welsh jersey.
Time passes
Richard bach.
But the voice you cultivated
does not fade.
Gone the stronger accent
of The Last Days Of Dolwen
when Emlyn Williams gave
you your chance.
You sang well then Richard bach with Wales in your soul.
Of all your films, and let's be honest
some are best forgotten
and some were for beer money,
The Spy Who Came In From The Cold
suited you best.
You captured Leamas' laconic futility
in black and white perfection.
So, I lift a glass to you
Richard bach
in the Miners Arms
and when I say
"there is something rotten
in the state of Wales"
I know you would understand and approve.
Star Of Wales by Mike Everley
You strutted your hour
upon stage and screen.
Hamlet to Becket.
George to Jimmy Porter.
Bathed audiences
in silky vowels
and soft consonants.
Drank like a docker
or Celtic warrior.
Made love and were loved
in a stilted blue haze
of fags and booze.
Yet, there were moments
when you shone
like a shooting star
in the filmament.
For those you will
never be forgotten.
For those you will
always be remembered
in the soul of Wales.
A tribute to Richard Burton by Alan Bonas
How I hated Shakespeare as a pupil,
'Twelfth Night' was my task.
Oh why couldn't the play be simple?
That's all I would ask!
Bored one day I visit a book seller,
'Richard Burton' by Melvyn Bragg.
Bragg's a good story teller,
Burton's life is certainly exciting and not a drag.
A Welshman who loved Shakespeare?
Well if he loved him, perhaps I could too.
So I read 'King Lear,'
And then 'The Taming of the Shrew.'
After that, I read all the plays,
I had become fascinated by the bard
And all these characters Burton could portray
And I loved the way he recited Shakespeare's word!
By now I'm hooked,
So I memorise lines from his plays.
I write them all in my book
And then my 'party piece' is to recite his soliloquies.
This is all down to Burton,
Whose deep, rich voice I would try and emulate.
And as a Welshman myself, I was certain,
That perhaps one day I could be great.
I always tried to promote him,
A boy from Pontrhydyfen, Wales.
And I imagined being his stand in,
Now wouldn't that be a fairy tale?
So I've got a lot to be grateful for,
Because Richard Burton introduced me to Shakespeare
And literally opened for me,
A literary door.
How I hated Shakespeare as a pupil,
'Twelfth Night' was my task.
Oh why couldn't the play be simple?
That's all I would ask!
Bored one day I visit a book seller,
'Richard Burton' by Melvyn Bragg.
Bragg's a good story teller,
Burton's life is certainly exciting and not a drag.
A Welshman who loved Shakespeare?
Well if he loved him, perhaps I could too.
So I read 'King Lear,'
And then 'The Taming of the Shrew.'
After that, I read all the plays,
I had become fascinated by the bard
And all these characters Burton could portray
And I loved the way he recited Shakespeare's word!
By now I'm hooked,
So I memorise lines from his plays.
I write them all in my book
And then my 'party piece' is to recite his soliloquies.
This is all down to Burton,
Whose deep, rich voice I would try and emulate.
And as a Welshman myself, I was certain,
That perhaps one day I could be great.
I always tried to promote him,
A boy from Pontrhydyfen, Wales.
And I imagined being his stand in,
Now wouldn't that be a fairy tale?
So I've got a lot to be grateful for,
Because Richard Burton introduced me to Shakespeare
And literally opened for me,
A literary door.
Row 33 by Maggie Jenkins
I would save up all my pennies
And every Saturday,
I’d sit there in the cheap seats,
For the weekly matinee.
My friends adored the cowboys,
Who rode across the plain,
I had another hero,
Not Eastwood or John Wayne.
I watched you from row thirty-three,
In the darkness of the stalls,
Your presence and projection
Held me in their thrall.
You leapt out from that silver screen,
You made my senses boil,
Every act and every scene,
With passion and with Hwyl.
You ran like threads of fine-spun silk,
Up and down my spine,
Caressed my neck and raised its hairs,
I drank it down, like wine.
In the darkened auditorium,
My hero of the screen
Inspired a love that started
In a girl of just fourteen.
A love of plays and poems,
A love of film and books,
You were not just my poster boy,
Though you had the looks!
You grew in soil the same as mine,
With coal under your nails,
The fire of ancient dragons,
That can only come from Wales.
When God the great director,
Was handing out the parts,
In you he found a furnace
In which to forge his art.
And I would watch and listen
Completely mesmerised,
Words mentally recorded,
Each line memorised.
Memories I savour,
into my older years
Still, I sit and watch your work,
Still, I’m moved to tears,
You penetrate my darkness,
In my matrix you’re the glitch,
A giant of both stage and screen,
And that voice….so very Rich
The Cross I Bear by Maggie Jenkins
How will I be remembered,
When they lay me in the ground,
Will they stand around and quote of me
The profane, and profound.
Will my name revert to that of birth,
Will I be Jenkins at the last,
Or will Burton be my epitaph,
My present and my past.
That name became a cross to bear,
From which I could not hide,
It conjured many demons,
It would not be denied.
In a world where reputation rules,
Where image is ‘the thing’,
My role was cast as lucifer,
I was the demon king.
So what will be my epitaph,
Words carved upon my stone.
When flesh is gone and all is dust,
And the earth absorbs my bone.
For all Welshmen are actors,
The poor ones make the stage,
Those with talent stay at home,
And from their valleys rage!
Tell me Richard Walter,
If you and I should meet,
How did that boy become this man,
With the whole world at his feet.
Inspired by a quote from the man himself.
Richard Burton is now my epitaph, my cross, my title, my image. I have achieved a kind of diabolical fame. It has nothing to do with my talents as an actor. That counts for little now. I am the diabolically famous. Richard Burton.
I would save up all my pennies
And every Saturday,
I’d sit there in the cheap seats,
For the weekly matinee.
My friends adored the cowboys,
Who rode across the plain,
I had another hero,
Not Eastwood or John Wayne.
I watched you from row thirty-three,
In the darkness of the stalls,
Your presence and projection
Held me in their thrall.
You leapt out from that silver screen,
You made my senses boil,
Every act and every scene,
With passion and with Hwyl.
You ran like threads of fine-spun silk,
Up and down my spine,
Caressed my neck and raised its hairs,
I drank it down, like wine.
In the darkened auditorium,
My hero of the screen
Inspired a love that started
In a girl of just fourteen.
A love of plays and poems,
A love of film and books,
You were not just my poster boy,
Though you had the looks!
You grew in soil the same as mine,
With coal under your nails,
The fire of ancient dragons,
That can only come from Wales.
When God the great director,
Was handing out the parts,
In you he found a furnace
In which to forge his art.
And I would watch and listen
Completely mesmerised,
Words mentally recorded,
Each line memorised.
Memories I savour,
into my older years
Still, I sit and watch your work,
Still, I’m moved to tears,
You penetrate my darkness,
In my matrix you’re the glitch,
A giant of both stage and screen,
And that voice….so very Rich
The Cross I Bear by Maggie Jenkins
How will I be remembered,
When they lay me in the ground,
Will they stand around and quote of me
The profane, and profound.
Will my name revert to that of birth,
Will I be Jenkins at the last,
Or will Burton be my epitaph,
My present and my past.
That name became a cross to bear,
From which I could not hide,
It conjured many demons,
It would not be denied.
In a world where reputation rules,
Where image is ‘the thing’,
My role was cast as lucifer,
I was the demon king.
So what will be my epitaph,
Words carved upon my stone.
When flesh is gone and all is dust,
And the earth absorbs my bone.
For all Welshmen are actors,
The poor ones make the stage,
Those with talent stay at home,
And from their valleys rage!
Tell me Richard Walter,
If you and I should meet,
How did that boy become this man,
With the whole world at his feet.
Inspired by a quote from the man himself.
Richard Burton is now my epitaph, my cross, my title, my image. I have achieved a kind of diabolical fame. It has nothing to do with my talents as an actor. That counts for little now. I am the diabolically famous. Richard Burton.
The True Actor- Richard Burton by Ingela Karlsson
The audience hold the breath when you gave life to Marc Anthony, Hamlet, Alexander the great with fire, profundity and devotion.
To be or not to be is not the question
always being
never pretending.
You took your first breath among the coalmines-
giving your short life to transform coal to diamond.
From the kingdom of poetry songs, fairy-tales-Wales to the world.
Your dream of childhood was to become a boxer.
You knocked out Old Vic Theatre with your art of acting
facing your characters with originality, dignity, sincerity
The countdown begins
the soul of poetry wins
The true drama knight
never says good night
The audience hold the breath when you gave life to Marc Anthony, Hamlet, Alexander the great with fire, profundity and devotion.
To be or not to be is not the question
always being
never pretending.
You took your first breath among the coalmines-
giving your short life to transform coal to diamond.
From the kingdom of poetry songs, fairy-tales-Wales to the world.
Your dream of childhood was to become a boxer.
You knocked out Old Vic Theatre with your art of acting
facing your characters with originality, dignity, sincerity
The countdown begins
the soul of poetry wins
The true drama knight
never says good night