Enillwyr Cystadleuaeth Barddoniaeth yr Hydref

Fis Hydref eleni, fe’ch gwahoddwyd i ymgolli yn hud yr hydref a rhannu’ch stori yn ein Cystadleuaeth Barddoniaeth yr Hydref.

Diolch o galon i bawb a agorodd eu calonnau ac a anfonodd eu ceisiadau anhygoel atom ni. Roedd hi’n bleser pur darllen trwy’ch cerddi celfydd, ystyriol ac ysbrydoledig.

Rydyn ni am rannu’r cerddi, a oedd wir yn cyfleu ysbryd yr hydref. Dyma enillwyr pob categori:

8-12 oed

Buddugol – Florence Stronge

Crimson leaves say farewell to the trees

Flowers say goodbye to the buzzing bees

Shorter days are now in place

And the hunt for sweets is now the chase

Elaborate costumes are to be worn

And spooky season has been born

We say farewell to summer

And for some that is a bummer!

But not for an Autumn Lover, like me!

Ail – Alexi Causero

Autumn is crispy leaves dancing in the breeze.

Autumn is the nice fancy hats and gloves in a glee.

Autumn is lush long walks being free.

I find autumn one of the coldest times of year.

I find autumn making cars go blur.

I find autumn comfy in the house with the cat “purr”.

My autumn is different to yours I like to go out and go around looking at the Autumn colours.

My autumn is different to yours I like to go to the shop and with a pound when the nights start to get dark.

My autumn is different to yours I like to go to school and get some clout.

Trydydd – Cotty Vicary

Mr. Summer meets Mrs. Autumn

Hello, Mrs. Autumn. My name is Mr. Summer.

Were you eating cereal?

No, I was walking on honey-colored fallen leaves.

The sound was exactly like that.

Did you play the flute?

No, there was a hissing sound and a cold wind blew.

The sound was exactly like that.

Were you the one who changed the colour of the leaves on the tree from green to yellow?

Yes, because the colour yellow makes my heart sing.

Is it getting colder lately because you’re closer to Earth?

Yes, I’m tired of being on the other side of the world, so now it’s my turn.

I’m sensitive to the cold.

I’m going to pass the baton to you and rest on the other side of the world.

See you next season, Mr. Summer.

Mrs. Autumn, please continue to dramatically change this world like a magician.

13-17 oed

Buddugol – Lexi Daughters

Golden leaves fall gently down,

A rustling carpet on the ground.

Crisp air whispers through the trees

Autumn’s magic, a gentle breeze.

Pumpkins glow with candlelight,

Harvest moons shine ever bright.

Jumpers warm and fireside cheer,

Autumn’s beauty, drawing near.

Ail – Tanisha Evans

A crackling fire, warm and bright

Underneath the stars a perfect night

Toasting marshmallows, stories shared

Unwinding by the fire without a care.

Moments of laughter, friends so near

Nights by the fire, memories dear.

Trydydd – Chloe Price

Leaves of amber dance and twirl,

Whispers of autumn in a gentle swirl.

Crisp air carries the scent of pine,

Natures palette, a masterpiece divine.

Golden sunsets paint the sky,

As harvest moon begins to rise high.

In cozy corners, warmth we find,

Autumn’s embrace, so sweet and kind.

18+oed

Buddugol – Kevin King

The trees they are a changing from their summer coat of green

As you look around the host of colours as good as ever seen

Yellows, reds and browns on show with different shades of gold

Hundreds of subtle variations for our eyes there to behold

The seasons winds grow stronger as they rustle through the trees

Stripping leaves from branches and they float down in the breeze

The nutrients within them slowly composting on the floor

Sink through the ground to feed the tree on which they were once bore

And so the cycle continues, the trees will soon be bare

But rest assured that come next spring the green leaves will be there

Mother nature is showing her glory, of her we can be sure

So look on her with wonder as the seasons change once more

Ail – Julie Thomas

On Maes-Y-Deri, where red leaves fall,

Lived Mike, ex-military, who gave his all.

With clippers in hand and a soldier’s might,

He cut back the blackberries, keeping things right.

Through crisp autumn mornings, he’d sweep up the street,

Clearing golden leaves, keeping it neat.

But that wasn’t all—each morning he’d go,

Litter-picking the rubbish that others would throw.

Mike started a project down in the woods,

The Oakland Woods Project, to bring back the good.

He trimmed all the trees, cleared paths far and wide,

Restoring the woodland with a deep sense of pride.

His neighbours would smile, their homes shining too,

Thanks to Mike’s care and the hard work he’d do.

Now Maes-Y-Deri, glowing in autumn’s soft light,

Is a place full of pride, from morning to night.

Trydydd – Rachel Thomas

Dear old Jack’s grin breaks through the gloom;

before groaning with ghoul-some grunting.

Silence encounters eerie echoes, in every room;

hollow coats line the door, its frame thumping.

Before groaning with ghoul-some grunting;

rolls of Carthen* lay among the sturdy grease.

Hollow coats line the door, its frame thumping;

a spider’s web, woven using woollen fleece.

Rolls of Carthen* lay among the sturdy grease;

the wheels and cogs lay dormant, stiff as a corpse.

A spider’s web, woven using woollen fleece;

grounded together with oil, tied up with weary warps.

The wheels and cogs lay dormant, stiff as a corpse;

its stillness drains the soul from the overbearing moon.

Grounded together with oil, tied up with weary warps;

long ago, the looms chugged along in happy tune.

Stillness drains the soul from the overbearing moon;

dear old Jack’s grin breaks through the gloom.

Long ago, the looms chugged along in happy tune;

silence encounters eerie echoes, in every room.

*Carthen – Translates to Traditional Welsh Blanket.

Barod am her arall?

Ar ôl Cystadleuaeth Farddoniaeth lwyddiannus yr Hydref, rydyn ni’n falch iawn o gyhoeddi ein Cystadleuaeth Barddoniaeth y Gaeaf.

Allwn ni ddim aros i ddarllen eich cerddi.