Greenmeadow Farm Community Poem

Over 60 people were involved in contributing to an exciting new Community Poem exploring farming, history and conservation matters at Greenmeadow Farm, Cwmbran Agricultural day on Sunday 14 September 2008.

Poet, Peter Read encouraged people from as young as three years old to compose a few lines to add to the Community Poem. Extracts of the poem have been painted on the floor of the newly renovated Haybarn on the farm.

Alliteration, rhyme and rhythm were employed by all involved to create a stunning composition exploring the history and current position of the farm and it’s position in the local community.


Countrified in the middle of Cwmbran,
fields crowded by Fibreglass, Rechem and Cardboard factories.

Pigs enclosed in smelly happiness, we reach for the wellies
they will never need.

Shrunken horses look up to their elders,
their horizon, little higher than blades of grass.

Owls set free in main enclosure,
wiser than we imagine,
seeing backwards and forwards
with all round vision,
they fly home for food.

Amid tumbled straw in vales of green
there are amazing sights to be seen.

Birds of prey, crafts and creatures,
rides and ice creams, plus other features.

Conservation and things that matter
attract the people for lively chatter.

Sticky, snouted, snuffling sows,
search for secret supplies,
snaffling truffles from the soil.

Fearsome, furry ferrets ferociously
forage for fruity fancies.

Delicate, dancing deer
drink daintily down in the dip.

Racing, random rabbits romp riotously
rebounding, round and round.

I see the big pig,
snoring like my dad.

I see rabbits with twitching noses,
cows furry with big horns
goats and sheep a plenty .

And most of all I see
the big dragon with his watery breath.

Walkers scuff up the straw
lying on the ground.
Strands of golden straw
like spaghetti reflecting in the sun.
Signs and smells of nature
all around us, but people
talking loudly, their laughter
drowning out nature’s sounds.

Large brown horses with fluffy manes
wait at the fences,
munching the morning away
on food and grains.

At the Archery Site
arrows, fly straight
as aeroplanes,
hitting their targets,
but the goats steal my food.

Tramping through the dark, damp woods,
cracking and crunching twigs underfoot.
Smells of moss and earthy vegetation.
Hearing birdsong and animals, scurrying away.
Enjoying nature on a crisp autumn day.

Friends together, we feed the goats.
They lick our hands. It feels funny and slimy
but it’s fun.

Tractors like horses with engines,
animals with wheels, pull the people around the farm.
It’s bouncy, bumpy and noisy.

Our world’s so very beautiful
full of unpredictable places still unexplored.

And yet we need go no further,
it’s simply outside our doors.
Happiness is priceless.
Come and feel it for yourselves,
it’s there for us to share.
Just come outside and look around,
there’s nothing to compare.

Woodland Street house
filled with candlelight
in a street of friends, uncles and aunts:
one bike shared between us all.
House pulled down for better things
which never came. Still there’s nothing there.
A community demolished by a council.

Coal mines gave way
to GKN and steel. Then roads
pushing this way and that
sprouted Lidl’s and other superstores.
Industrial estates blew away the wildlife.
Now coal and steel are gone
the birds, the badgers and others are back.

How green is my valley?
From what I’ve seen
it doesn’t look very green.

How green is my valley?
Look to the mountains, not to the town.
Look around, then up, not down.
The rocks, the gulleys, farms, tracks and paths,
that will make you happy, giggle and laugh.

How green is my valley?
Very green if you stop and look.
Nature and history all around you,
not just in a  book.

Dianne Evans, Kath Hyde, Derek Morgan, Lindsey Smith, Tryfan Hobbs (14), Corrine Jones, Roger Stevenson, Geraldine Pugh,Joseph Wood (9), Joseph Bourne (7), Zack Davies (10), Jacob Williams (9), Gil Barnett, Meghan Edwards (4), Ffion Phillips (3),Sian Phillips (6), Jessica Richardson (11), Irene Taylor, Ranjit Ghoshal, Glyn Hughes, Mark Mahoney.