Prosiectau

Cwyd dy ben, Cod dy lais

Peter Read

Mae thema Diwrnod Coffáu’r Holocost 2012 (27 Ionawr) yn gofyn i ni i gyd godi’n pennau a’n lleisiau i greu dyfodol sy’n well ac yn fwy diogel.

Mae’r thema’n gofyn i ni i gyd feddwl am yr hawliau, y cyfrifoldeb a’r ddyletswydd sydd arnom bob un i godi’n llais pan welwn neu pan glywn rywbeth y credwn ei fod yn anghywir. Mae’n ein herio i ddysgu am beth sy’n digwydd pan na fyddwn yn codi’n llais a beth all ddigwydd pan fyddwn yn defnyddio ein llais.

Mae Diwrnod Coffáu’r Holocost 2012 yn edrych ar sut y dewiswn pryd i godi’n llais ac yn ystyried dewis dweud rhywbeth a dewis peidio. Mae’n gofyn inni i gyd godi’n llais yn erbyn anghyfiawnder a chasineb heddiw.

Ar 16 Tachwedd 2011 cynhaliodd enillydd gwobr John Tripp, Peter Read weithdy gyda thrigolion a mynychwyr undydd Tŷ George Lansbury i greu barddoniaeth a fyddai’n adlewyrchu rhai o’u meddyliau, eu hatgofion a’u pryderon am y dyfodol.

Tŷ George Lansbury yw’r cynllun gofal ychwanegol cyntaf yn Nhor-faen ac mae’n darparu ar gyfer pobl hŷn y mae arnynt angen gofal a chefnogaeth ond sy’n awyddus i gadw eu hannibyniaeth yn eu cartref eu hunain. Mae hefyd yn darparu gofal seibiant yn ystod y dydd ar gyfer pobl yn y gymuned leol sydd angen cefnogaeth ychwanegol.

Cerddi:

Speak Up

We are special, we are individuals.

We are ourselves. We are all human beings.

Don’t call us old, we have the wisdom

And we need to pass it on to the young people.

We might not have big houses, money or a Rolls Royce,

But we like our memories and we’re happy with what we’ve got.

We don’t have to do what they tell us,

We’ll do what we want to do.

We don’t need to leave our chairs

To go into the world of dreams or memories.

The sun still shines in Greece with no rain.

In our chairs we can go anywhere, even to Tenby.

We Remember

We remember miners walking over the hill,

Faces blackened with coal dust

Walking to their tin bath in front of the fire.

We hear them plodding in noisy clogs,

To the sound of rattling water jacks.

A time when we all leaned on each other.

No one was isolated, doors were left open.

We never knocked, just went in and out

Except on Sunday afternoons. Children sent out to play,

Leaving Mum and Dad to play together.

They call them the good old days,

But times were really hard.

Walk the streets at three o’clock in the morning

With no fear of violence. You could almost live outside.

Miners with rickets never saw the sun.

Dust settled on their throats and lungs.

Snuff up their nostrils to keep their heads clear.

Men went to the pubs for treats to smoke and drink.

The women stayed at home to darn socks and care for children..