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
lonely.
Happy Birthday, William,
wherever you are.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Clouds, #Lonely, #poetry. #poem, #Wandered, #Wordsworth, birthday
‘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.’
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.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Cornish, #Daffodil, #Kernewek, #Lili, #poetry. #poem, #Wordsworth
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?
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Cloud, #Daffodil, #Lonely, #poetry. #poem, #Wandered, #Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a daff,
much shorter than the tall giraffe,
but higher than the lowly ant,
and yellower than the elephant.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Clouds, #Daffodils, #nonsense, #poetry. #poem, #silly, #Wordsworth
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.
‘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
“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 –
ingrate!”
Graeme Sandford 