After the dark, dark gloom of lockdown things have begun to stir. And, along with the spring flowers and blossom, a fanfare has sounded. The poets of the Poetry Society were out once again, but in non-virtual action.

Throughout the blackout the members have carried on in their own homes, Zooming and virtualling. Always trying to make some good out of a very bad hand dealt by the pandemic authorities.

And out they poured into the wonderfully acoustic Tenby gardens commemorating the name of Gilroy Phillips. And how he would have smiled as the poets brought happiness and culture to this memorial garden.

Naturally, the first post pandemic attendance was a little thinner than usual as if some members could not believe their luck that they were free. Staying at home, gagged and muzzled, has obviously affected some of our friends, but as time passes, they will all be with us once again.

And there we huddled. By the wall to soak up the wonderful late April sunshine. The flowers danced, the birds sang, almond and cherry blossoms provided the backcloth. Passers-by stopped in their tracks watching a strange ritual enact. Some actually were so impressed they joined the Society there on the spot. Rejoicing they had found their manna at last.

Some of the more nervous poets had stayed at home fearing the bite of the virus, but sent in samples of their own work, which were read out on their own behalf. A new recruit, still on the other side of the wall was heard to exclaim, “I think I hear a snatch of Dante Gabriel Rossetti”. To which our galley master chairperson Miss Draper retorted, but gently “Wrong. I think you mean Percy Bysshe Shelley”. That’s how she is - Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Howell, Betjeman, Mckenna and Dylan Thomas were amongst the choices this week as the members rejoiced in the newly re-awakened world before us “like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis,” intoned one rangy blonde member. And so it was.

Plans are that we should meet once per month utilising the Gilroy Phillips garden where the acoustics equal those of West End theatres, but more green and fresh. The next meeting is scheduled for Sunday, May 16, at 3 pm.

This is not a stuffy poetry society. It is unbridled pleasure and fun. Nor is there any financial encumbrance. It is all free.

I think the members are excited about this re-birth of learning. I could see this excitement in one new member who had enrolled “over the wall”. At the end of the programme, I saw her disappearing past the bowls club hopping and skipping and clicking her heels in best Eric Morecambe style and talking to the birds too.

Apprehensive? Please don’t be. But I would wager that even if you only attend to watch and listen you will go home happy and the contents of your wallets untouched.

The town is very fortunate to have a society like this. And, incidentally, the member who has promised his poem for the next meeting ‘My journey as a Saint’ has been sacked.

And so will our chairperson if she continues with that Rosetti/Shelley stuff!