All I Am

By Cymraeg

About the Book
Enter the world of Cymraeg, an ordinary person trying to understand what it means to be a human being, living in the last part of the nineteenth century and the first part of the twentieth century.
All I Am is a collection of poetry which tries to explain what a regular person may think of, go through, and live upon this earth. The poetry may paint a picture or leave a thought in your mind about what life may entail. You may see parts of yourself between the lines, or you may not. But, hopefully the collection will get everyone thinking about what our lives mean upon this earth of ours.
About the Author
Cymraeg is a poet residing in Secret Hollow Converse, Texas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jan 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890278067

Book preview

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2024 by Cymraeg

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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The Poetry of Cymraeg

Enter the world of Cymraeg. An ordinary person trying to understand what it means to be a human being, living in the last part of the nineteenth century and the first part of the twentieth century.

These are poems which try to explain what a regular person may think of, go through, and live upon this earth. They may paint a picture or leave a thought in your mind about what life may entail. You may see parts of yourself between the lines, or you may not. But, hopefully they will get everyone thinking about what our lives mean upon this earth of ours.

Foreword

Cymraeg, Gary Lee Davis was conceived in Lucaston, New Jersey, but was born in Camden, New Jersey, during the year of 1955. He was raised in Camden, New Jersey and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, after the age of five. Living on welfare, the second oldest of nine children, at the age of eight or nine, he tried to help support the family by doing odd jobs and raising money for them as best he could.

After graduating from Camden High School at the age of nineteen, he enlisted in the United States Navy. Trained as a Hospital Corpsman for Viet Nam, he first served at the Naval Regional Medical Center in Newport, Rhode Island. After a four-year enlistment, he was discharged.

At this time, he flew to Alaska and attended Sheldon Jackson College (in the field of Forestry/Fisheries). After the semester was over, he returned to Newport, Rhode Island and went to work as an armed security guard at a governmental facility.

While in Rhode Island, he attended Roger Williams University in the field of Humanities, but only for one semester. While there, he worked as a reporter for the University’s newspaper.

Also, during this time, he enlisted in the Army National Guard (U.S. Army Reserves) and was trained to be a Military Police personnel.

After several years, newly married, he transferred to Oak Ridge, Tennessee as a contract Security Inspector for the Department of Energy, at their Nuclear facilities. While serving as a First Responder, he enlisted in the U. S. Naval Reserves and was further trained at Cherry Point, North Carolina to be a Field Corpsman (Medic), where-upon graduation he served with the U. S. Naval Reserve/U. S. Marine Corps detachment in Knoxville, Tennessee.

After the birth of his third daughter, because of medical reasons for his daughter, he enlisted, again, in the U. S. Navy, and was trained to be an Operation Specialist/Tomahawk Weapon Specialist and served aboard the U.S. S. America (CV-66). Upon his arrival, he was temporarily assigned to the Master-At-Arms Department, where he was detailed to protect the newly elected POTUS, George Bush, Sr., during his Inaugural Address aboard the U.S.S. America. While stationed on the U.S.S. America (CV-66), he served during Desert Shield/Desert Storm.

After four years or so, he was transferred to Cutler, Maine where he was trained to be a Fire-Fighter/Hazmat First Responder at their Naval Fire Department. While living in Marshfield, Maine; he became a Voluntary Marshfield Fire-Fighter.

He went on to serve upon the Naval vessel U.S.S. Moosbrugger (DD-980). During his naval career, he conducted tours around the world and with NATO until the end of his Naval Service, finally retiring after twenty-plus years from the U.S. Navy in 2003.

After retiring in Great Lakes, Illinois, he resided in Waukegan, Illinois and was trained to be a school bus/charter driver. After eight years of service, he moved to Converse, Texas where he drove a school bus until the beginning of the Covid-19 epidemic, when he finally retired in 2019.

During his lifetime, from 1975 until present, he became a self-taught poet, having self-published two books of poetry: First and Last Breath and Dreams, Although he never promoted or advertised himself, he continues to write poetry, having written about 2,000 individual poems so far during his lifetime.

His philosophy is simple: A poet’s job is to write about the life they lived on earth, the time they spent in this world, and what it means to be a human person during their lifetime. To this end, he continues to write poetry, transcribed into over fourteen journals of about 120 poems or more in each journal.

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A Billion Stars In the Sky

Cymraeg

Each night, a billion stars in the sky.

Each day, a million thoughts in our minds.

In a lifetime, most are never written down.

Most are, never remembered, but, forgotten;

like the salt of the seas, they’re washed away.

So precious, the few that we can recall.

So precious, the ones we share with others.

Most precious, the ones we managed to create, to

write down, recordings and images, sculpted bits of Life.

We chose these, to pass into history and the futures.

It’s not a matter, of, will we be remembered.

Will later generations, know who we were?

It’s a matter, of, that we existed and lived.

That we have left our thoughts and creations behind;

as guides, as warnings, as signs of humanity in twilight.

As the stars in the heavens and the universes beyond,

We are insignificant in the hands of time.

Except, as a species, who came to know: Themselves.

Except, that we learned: We are all in One.

The future, the present, the past combined forever.

Each moment, a million thoughts in our minds;

lifted up from the earth to the stars in the heavens.

A billion voices whispering in the voice of the Void.

Most, never to be remembered, but as, after-thoughts;

of, the Specie, which chose, to remember, Itself.

About This, Or, About Anything Else

Cymraeg

My tongue is thick upon the lips,

like one hanging from a calf, lying

sideways on the ground, that’s just

been slaughtered to feed the masses.

It’s hard to speak, the words that comes out

heavy and thick, or, sometimes not at all.

I thought my life was going to be

different, now, after the divorce.

Almost two years of separation

between us, and me, with custody

of our two remaining girls, still at home,

she wants to come live with us, again;

saying, we need to be a family.

She says the guys she’s been seeing

are all shallow and disappointments.

She doesn’t ask, how I feel…

about this, or, about anything else.

When I retire, in a couple of months.

she says, I need to get a job

and look for another place, for,

all of us, so she can get on with

her life and get a better job.

She says her family is not supportive

and that, they don’t care about her.

She keeps on saying, that we have

to do this for the sake of the girls.

But she doesn’t ask, how I feel…

about this, or, about anything else.

I know, that if I open up to her,

I will lose myself, in the quagmire.

I would hate to lose the girls, again…

I’ve lost them, once before, almost,

to the point, that they didn’t know me.

But if I have to choose… I choose

the girls and our freedom.

The freedom from holding onto something,

something, she won’t let me possess,

though it breaks my heart, to see her this way.

We’ve changed, moved on, altered together.

The girls, our life, and the world.

But she can’t hear, how I feel,

about this, or, about anything else.

The Abyss

Cymraeg

Look into the abyss of the mind

and you’ll find a river flowing;

down from great heights,

past the drop-off of sheer walls.

At the bottom, where the waters run,

always, there is a movement, of, attention.

Standing on a bridge, spanning years,

stretched across the chasms of the world;

we stand and stare into the darkness below.

There, we see the myriad lights of reflections.

We peer, down into the depths of the Soul,

looking into the eternal movement, of a poet’s life.

Always, there was life there, hidden, unknown,

beckoning to those, stationary, on their bridges

peering down, to view, the movements of the waters.

Not as something to be discovered, but as,

something to be recognized, in all of us.

The movement of life, flowing ceaselessly.

We sought out stones of living, then paused,

before dropping them, into an internal abyss.

They fell, for a long time, before we noticed

a tiny splash, then heard, not a sound, but a

faint echoing, rising up through the darkness;

to touch, our thoughts, with convoluting wanderings.

There, in our depths, in the abyss, the waters flow.

There, in the depths, nothing was heard, but echoes.

There in the depths, was the darkness, reflected.

We came to understand, that this was natural.

We came to understand, that this was life, alive.

We came to understand, the abyss, as our living soul.

Beliefs, Part Ten

The streets are a mean place, a dirty place;

to a boy just eight or nine it’s a nightmare.

So to survive, you become mean and dirty.

You become the nightmare and learn to live in its shadows.

You become a nobody and almost everyone forgets about you.

Until, you become a problem and another statistic

etched upon the rolls of print in the social circle.

Jack, the POTUS, was assassinated just about the time he aged

another year in memory, on a day that promised brightness.

The marbles were scattered upon the ground, dropped...

and he became just another one of these marbles scattered.

No more would we be sent to Philadelphia for the summer.

The country-life suited us better; so said our mother.

She thought the wide-open spaces would better sooth her beasts.

She said, our father lived inside of us, caused no doubt by the wars.

But, others were involved... too numerous to tell for sure.

Maybe, it was the first summer when the roses bloomed yellow.

Maybe, it was the first autumn when the leaves began to fall red.

Rebellion, as black as truth and white as lies untold, took him

over in the cool and ashy embers replaced before him.

For