I///wandered lone
Sorry not Sorry Wordsworth.
I///wandered lone
ly as a cloud
rain falling
Splinters
s h a t t e r///e d all around
keep stalling
My blood drained
as I s-c-raped the bark
My soul ached
as I hugged the dark
Dark of soul,
dark of the big black
hole
comfortable
can't
see the sun
solemn seclusion,
dark intrusion
c*o* r p s e illusion
can't stand to
feel the misery
course through me
I wandered lone-
as an empty shell
felt the undercurrent
The man I was,
no longer "he"
The "he" I wanted to be,
no longer me
My heart of
darkness
can't stand to
walk through this
though I will
tainted by
sin's red dye
e rod ed by
the rust and *calcification*
of a s-e-a-r-e-d and hopeless (conscience)
gale force storm pulling at me
hard to ignore
mistakes and false promises
Can I shake free from sin's reminders?
there's always
hope
warmth and brightness through my eyes and skin
envelopes me in something
dancing with dead, c-h-a-r-r-e-d
daffodils
that make way for the living
something worth fighting through another day
bird song and fresh blooms translate and
energise me with power
power and hope to see through another day
*
Thanks for reading!
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Scottish-Italian poet/writer from Glasgow.
Overflowing in English language torture and word abuse.
"Every man has a sane spot somewhere" R.L Stevenson
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection is now available!
https://paulspoeticprints.etsy.com
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More stories from Paul Stewart and writers in Poets and other communities.
Smartystan
Rain didn’t stop Mala. Swaddling for Edgar covered the baby boy’s body and she held her other son’s, Burton, six-year-old hand. The mud, muck, and mire didn’t hinder her from staying on course with her mission. From Pennsylvania, they all trekked to get closer and closer to land that was never promised but simply implied. Each step produced more mud caked around her sneakers. She didn’t care. Her rucksack provided them protein packs to put into plastic bottles and nuts and berries and dried meats to keep their muscles in good health. Water hydrated. She rested. The baby had been asleep the entire time that she had started her journey and her eldest son remained silent throughout the excursion as well.
By Skyler Saunders3 days ago in Chapters
Comments (7)
Remarkable reinvention of a classic. Powerfully accomplished.
This was extremely powerful and the daffodils reminded me of Rachel's story! Loved your poem Sir Paul! Hope you're doing well 🍩🥐
Facing a new day is not for the faint of heart--not for some of us at least. Though Wordsworth may find it an easy go, we're not all him.
Fascinating take on Wordsworth ‘dancing daffodils.’ I love how you buttress a kind of death of the old romance poetry (dancing with dead charred daffodils) in contrast with the present energy of ‘bird song and fresh blooms’ as if shaking off the old (former self?) and replacing him with renewal (new/better version of self?). Very thought provoking poem, potent imagery. The use of sin with imagery of blood (red dye) and death gives an almost biblical feel to the piece reinforcing the undertones of death and hopelessness followed by rejuvenation/rebirth. Really fine writing as per always, Paul!
Aha! Wordsworth Revisited finally makes it out. Nice one, chum! I love the line "sin's red dye" and your optimistic ending. I didn't think we were going to get there for a minute. I like the way you broke it up. The way it physically looked on the page showed how things are jarring with you.
Beautiful 😍
Nice one