Excalibur Lost

Lust breaks free and sheathes the fear
That mortals cast as mothers love
Forever trusting, in dust filled ruin
An angel fills the font with tears
Whispers, gather gloom and colour
Unseen hands caress the hills
Faith and hope betrayal laden
Discover, truth embracing loss

Reflecting his eclectic passion for people watching and the beauty that surrounds them, Cross Hands “Tin Plate Poet” songwriter /poet Ron Savory spends his days fishing. Perched upon Bica’s Tooth, amid the silent battle weary cliffs of Llangrannog, he hooks inspiration from the crane skin bag of Manannan. Weaving the glint of universal truths into songs and poems (in time honoured Celtic folk / acoustic blues tradition) he journeys wherever the wind takes him.