Oriel Gelf Glynn Vivian: blog

Yn Siarad yn Farddonol – Grym Llên (Rhan 1)

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I ddathlu Mis Hanes Pobl Dduon yng Nghymru 2015, cyflwynwyd gweithdy newydd gan raglen ysgolion uwchradd Oriel Gelf Glynn Vivian, 4Site, o’r enw ‘Yn Siarad yn Farddonol – Grym Llên’. Mae Mis Hanes Pobl Dduon yn dathlu cyfraniadau pobl dduon at hanes a diwylliant lleol, cenedlaethol a byd-eang, a’i nod yw addysgu pobl yng Nghymru, herio canfyddiadau negyddol a hyrwyddo hanes pobl o dras y gwasgariad Affricanaidd. Y thema eleni yw ‘Merched Du Rhagorol’.

Gan weithio gyda Tracy Harris, sy’n awdur, yn ddramodydd ac yn berfformiwr, defnyddiodd myfyrwyr Blwyddyn 9 o Ysgol Gyfun yr Esgob Gore ddarnau o lenyddiaeth, barddoniaeth, celf ac amlgyfrwng i archwilio dylanwad pwerus awduron du benywaidd o bwys megis Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Angela Davis a Zadie Smith. Gan gymryd ysbrydoliaeth o’r awduron penigamp hyn, mae’r myfyrwyr wedi ysgrifennu eu darnau eu hunain o ffuglen fer, ymsonau a barddoniaeth.

Cafodd y cerddi hyn eu cyfansoddi gan y myfyrwyr ar y cyd a’u hysbrydoli gan ‘ysgrifennu rhydd’ gan ddechrau gyda’r un llinell gyntaf.

1. Swaying like the branch of a weeping willow
the maiden talked sweetly to the blossoming cherry tree
as the pink flowers withered in to burning fires of hell
the naive maiden, in her youth, unaware of the pain and destruction of age
the howls of hell hounding her

2. Swaying like a branch of a weeping willow
tumbling down like your dad drops you as a baby
crying as the clouds empty their sorrows
screaming into the wind
Howling like a wolf cries to the moon
Staring back in to his big brownish bronze eyes
Gazing at the tall towering trees overhead
Crystals illuminate the black emptiness of the beyond

3. Swaying like a branch of a weeping willow
Soft, gentle whistles in the wind
Swept through the air
Like angels pouring their hearts out to the soil
Melodic to some, but a whistling sound to ignorant mankind
Carrying life on its shoulders
A bird of the forest alone whistling
The flock of birds travelling together
A strange and forlorn sound as they drift
A gunshot
No whistling no more
Silence descends on the once happy forest
The angels and the birds have been left to darkness
The forest silence like the void before time
The nothingness, deafening, reverberating
Around the wilting, weeping, willow
You can almost hear the angels weeping
At the willows eternal sorrow.

4. Swaying like a branch of a weeping willow
with a pencil case lonely on the branch
it sat teetering on a twig staring at the rope
Sitting on the edge of the void, wondering what to do.
The rope was tight, all the lead drained out of him
Poor little pencil abandoned by his family, stuck here for years
All he ever had was pencils and rulers, he was too young to die
The pencils and rulers fell to their infinite deaths
And they will all be remembered in our hearts to the end of time.

Gadael Ymateb

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