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Baptised by Vikings and anchored like Rome in a brine basin of seven snapdragon hills, spills this marble town and city of laughter. Rhian Edwards

A pother of ship sails, a smelting brume, Copperopolis, coal harbour, metal morphosis to fire-clay, alum, tin-plate and porcelain. Rhian Edwards

To the coffee-ringed poems in the ruins and scrawling ashes of the Kardomah Cafe. Rhian Edwards

A fog sits snug in Swansea Bay Figures emerge cold from the grey SwansBoy

Shaking like fever and fearing their doom, Watchful of shadows in deepening gloom Anonymous

But as the sun burts out the shadows sway, looking across Swansea bay Anonymous

Their ranks slowly swelling as they follow a path that generations before them also had trod. Anonymous

Some place to enter, enter into some place Anonymous

Following a habit repeated down the centuries. Nature and nurture combining to guide them inwards. Anonymous

High above the blitzed streets The winking lights of Cwmdonkin, Constitution and Clifton Row Anonymous

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