Tag Archives: #Wordsworth

On Wordsworth’s Birthday

William was born today,

but a today many years ago;

someone told me,

it wasn’t a thing

that I happen to know;

the seventh of April

way, way back,

and he wrote poetry,

like a cloud

seeing daffodils

whilst wandering


Happy Birthday, William,

wherever you are.

“Real” Poetry

‘You don’t write “real” poetry!’ said the poet.

‘No.’ I replied. ‘I don’t, and I won’t,

and it’s not because I can’t.

and I shall not justify

the reasons why.


‘It’s how I’ve written

since I was ‘yay’ high;

and as a poet…

I get by.


‘Why should I

be alike to the rest,

who try their hardest,

do their best,

to recreate a work

as Wordsworth would,

when they are not

one tenth as good;

as one thousandth

of that Laureate’s worth.’

Lili Gorawys

I wandered lonely as a Lili Gorawys

because that sounds nicer

than wandering lonely as a daffodil

or a kommol – which is a cloud

by another name.


If you should meet Lili,

please stop and chat;

but, she may not reply,

being a flower

and all that.

I wandered aimlessly…

I wandered aimlessly

as a cloud crested the horizon,

unnoticed by my self,

I travelled further afield

until, like a daffodil,

I was watered by the heavens.

One single cloud

rained upon a single solitary traveller –

now, is ‘that’ Ironic?

I wandered lonely as a daff

I wandered lonely as a daff,

much shorter than the tall giraffe,

but higher than the lowly ant,

and yellower than the elephant.

I wandered lonely

I wandered lonely

as a cat,

going here and there,

doing this and that,

when all at once

I foresaw a nap –

after all,

I am a cat.



I wandered lonely

as a sheep,

thinking many sheepish thoughts,

though none were deep;

I wondered for a while upon

where the other sheep had gone.

Whilst munching grass

and chewing cud,

across the fields

like a cloud

I’d scud.

Not a Daffodil in Sight

Not a Daffodil in Sight

‘I wandered lonely,

as only a super-heated Martian space-cloud can;

Along with my fifty-seven thousand cloned ‘equivalents’;

I am certainly a lonely, little green Martian man.

Beside the molten lava lake;

beneath the erupting volcanoes of Sector 2,

I could see the home planet communication tendrils,

fluttering and dancing

In the cyber-cyclonic deep space breeze.’

☁️ x – from a Cloud’s perspective.

☁️ x – From a cloud’s perspective

“I was just floating along

minding my own business

when this geezer spots me;

he starts purple prosing me,

in like a poetic way;

he gets all rhymey and rhythmic-like…

Well, I wanted to breeze on out of there;

but, I was just floating around

over the ‘ills and the vales;

not much I could do really,

just had to wait for the old Zephyr to pick up

and blow me out of there.

He waffles on for a while, and then…

well I’ll be blowed

he decides to call his poem ‘Daffodils!’

I mean, I started it off,

what’s wrong with ‘Cloud’ as a title?

Wish I hadn’t bothered catching his eye –