st cynllo's church



llangynllo ceredigion


Much of the information contained on this website has been drawn from the excellent guidebook to St Cynllo's written by Rev. Brian Whatmore - this lovingly written and scholarly guide is highly recommended for those who would like to learn more about the history of this beautiful Church.


Copies of the guidebook

are available at the


poppy P1070253a

WW1 Centenary Poems & Writing

Members of the public were invited to submit poetry & writing to be included in the exhibition. A selection of the poetry can be viewed below, and two stories by WildGoose Arts member John Franks can be found by clicking the following link buttons.




A public reading of War or Peace was given by John as a part of the Centenary commemoration.

War or Peace To end all wars poems136 poems138 poems137 poems133 poems132 poems135

The Last Time I Saw You

            An Old Soldier Remembers


A poem inspired by a line in the diary of a ‘Carmarthen Pal’



Weary, I pause, leaning heavily on my stick,

Breath, hard to come by, lungs corrupted by gas

A momento from those days in France

But for this moment, I could be there again

As I gaze over the rolling hills and back down the years

There, a lone figure in the distance, striding purposefully

And once more, I am back in Flanders’ fields



It was just you coming towards me, nobody else ?

No walking wounded, no comrades in arms ?

Your face was wreathed in a smile

Like nothing I had seen for so long

A brief exchange of words as you approached

“My leave has come through. Seven days away from this !”

“Please, if you can, tell my folks I’m safe and well”



A quick handshake and you were gone

Down the lane, hurrying home and who wouldn’t ?

Yet on your return you paid the ultimate price

For your good fortune.  And no goodbye

Weary, I pause, leaning heavily on my stick.

I am grown old while you remain unchanged my friend

Shall we recognize each other when next we meet ?



Uncle Tom


'And they shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their guns into cricket bats'.



Uncle Tom had been in the war,

Served in the trenches I was told.

Granny said that God had kept

him safe so he had come back

to us and I was, I suppose too

young to understand.

Later I learned that he had

suffered from shell shock.

A mild mannered man with a

passion for cricket who carved

miniature cricket bats out of

wood, binding the handles with

black cotton.

He hated the war, I loved

the cricket bats

Heather Stent

85 years old

Served in the wrens during the 2nd World War

Martin Buck

Sue Wootton

Dorothy Morris

Carol Griffiths

Judith Stevens

Carol Griffiths

E Veronica Pugh

“The bluebells still bloom”  – A message to the fallen.


“The bluebells still bloom” in the woods each year

And the summer trees are still green,

The birds still fly in the skies above

And the fish still swim in the stream.


Alive still in the summer warmth

Strong in the evening air,

The waves still sweep onto the sandy shore

for you are everywhere.


The trees will turn golden still,

And the leaves  will fall one by one,

The night will come and the stars still shine

All is as it was, though you are gone.


The bluebells now bloom with a richer hue

And the trees tease a deeper green,

The waves now crash on the sandy shore

because you are here no more.


The world will go on turning still,

and our day will forever dawn

The leaves will fall and spring will come

Your life eternal,  death re -born.


Our children still run in the grassy fields

And will play in the deep blue sea,

You gave your life

So we could live

In beauty and forever free.



Stephanie James