Long Wordsworth Poems
Long Wordsworth Poems. Below are the most popular long Wordsworth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wordsworth poems by poem length and keyword.
A parody of Wordsworth's "The World Is Too Much with Us,” which appears under the parody
The mall is too much with us, spring and fall.
Getting and spending, we lay waste each pay check.
There's little in nature we won't someday wreck.
We've given our hearts away to cholesterol.
Beach beauties bare too much to one and all.
The howling dopeheads raise all kinds of heck.
Pollution worldwide makes me say, "Oh, yecch!"
Hey, wary youth, we'll leave this all to y'all!
I'm moved to yell, "Great God, we're out of tune!"
Had I the choice, I swear I'd rather be
A lone coyote howling at the moon
Or a jabbering monkey swinging from tree to tree
And sharing branch room with a shrieking loon.
Of earth's abominations these are free.
“The World Is Too Much with Us” Italian sonnet by William Wordsworth (1770- 1850) The sonnet is one of his responses to the Industrial Revolution.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
June 21, 2021
Contemporary Sonnet Contest
Sponsor: Charlote Puddifoot
Whilst
Wordsworth
danced
with
daffodils
the
world
of
poetry
moved on
symbols
of
the
inner
man
in poems
soon
began
verse
was
freed
to
explore
imagery
and
the like
then
hand
in hand
together
were
too soon
to reach
Eliot's
waste
land
so
empty
now of
flowers
to
while
away
the
hours
Then my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils.
—-William Wordsworth
DILLY-DILLY DAFFODILS
Dilly-dilly daffodils in a lady’s tress,
Sailing as she throws off distress.
Blithesome in shades of yellow and blue,
The yellow-buttercups a felicitous crew.
Dancing fair maiden-esprit, free
Of worry, no anxiety, Swinging gloriously —
A merry-go-round, dizzying sashay.
O how these pretty ladies brighten the day.
Dilly-dilly daffodils splashing everywhere,
Xanthous snow-shower of motherly care.
Warms the rainbow of hearts, rocks
Deep-dark dungeon despair into goldy-locks.
Slays the Winter dragon, breath-stifling depress.
Parades open-air confidence and playfulness.
Dilly-O-Delightful daffodils trumpet applaud,
bowing and curtsying — a faerie squad.
Dandelions look on with jealousy, turn white,
blow far, far away, leaving a lantern-light
of palace gardens, star chandeliers, riverdale,
green goblet-meadows, a sunshiny-fairytale.
3/12/2021
*For Caren Krutsinger*
"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings . . . "
Quote by - William Wordsworth
I write poetry that when read may seem easy,
Hard writing makes "easy" reading, it is said;
What seems spontaneous is really quite weepy,
The skill- art of the poet, from a pen that bled
Hard writing, makes easy reading it is said,
Inspiration can come from outside or within;
The skill, art of the poet- from a pen that bled,
Our unconscious flows even before we begin.
Inspiration- can come for outside or within,
Even when we are asleep, MUSE is creating;
Our unconscious flows- even before we begin,
Poet's souls are like a thousand skylarks singing.
Even when we are asleep, M U S E is creating,
What seems spontaneous is really quite weepy;
Poet's souls are like as thousand skylarks singing
I write poetry- that when read may seem easy.
________________________
September 28, 2016- Reposted 08/24/2022
For the Standard contest, Pantoum Poem
sponsor, Eve Roper, Judged 10/2016
First Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, Pantoum- New or Old
sponsor, Joseph May, Judged 08/28/2022
Second Place
*Image of Hallmark Channel by Giphy.
Chimed Upper Room
Chimed new day shines...eagerly corrects an upper room looks,
An attic improving rapidly...promotes roams of diligence,
Lacks found bordered leathered album...trapped topped a cornered desk.
Cutting edge mounts an Everest...Grand Canyon grooves a pass,
Emptying a corridor...grants patience traces of sweat caught brow,
Weighty whatnots slothfully shift...relief of prized treasure.
Lives confined--stilled in a photograph...bound neath grained-hewn film,
Reviving breaths aids wiping palms...adjusting dust rules idle air,
Widen pupil's gaze...proffers freedom to locked memories.
A leisurely dance of fingers...entertaining a page,
Courses from staging consequences...flips driftingly e'er so oft,
Cherished persevered poignant times...plus occasional laughs.
Age feebly trades a gentle glance...to sights of swept-up youth,
Niagara Falls revisit eyes...interlude recalls Wordsworth,
Rousseau swells the lulls...till Longfellow's maiden turns a page.
A soothing thoroughness applied...o'er sovereignty once claimed,
Delighting a soul wanting remembrance...effervescence inched rise,
Bestilled processing images...icons pageants the heart.
Strokes into yesterdays...fulfill a distant emptiness,
Once existed in certainty...consequently in dreams of need,
Now physically held...persuades rising tips of a mouth.
2020 July 30
*2nd Place*
Dusty Old Memories
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 August 06
SAMADHI
I am the Void
and THE ALL
I am the pen
and paper
the insertion and hole
the breath, the nostril
War, Peace
Surrender and action
Angelic wings descending
Transfiguration and Embodiment
Lover and Beloved
nipple, nourishment, lips
I bolt, then follow, appear, disappear
Essence and form
Only in my Silent Point of no Return
and no Time
can Shiva and Shakti drown in
Samadhi
Forest floor was prickly hard with dried
leaves and elves
the path to Cave I had to walk
Doe awaited inside the Darkness
a pool blacker than black
the deep unknown of knowingness
her eyes my own Void
trying to remember Yeats or Wordsworth
or Camus or even Ghandi
it was all in vain
I beckoned your I AM
to follow suit to Samadhi
your guitar strings, seas, voice
or smiling eyes you feared to leave
What was His Silent Point beyond the entrance
the endless depth of no Return ?
where was music or feasting or cool waves
where was a mustard lettuce sandwich
or escape ?
I beckoned the bolt, the appearance or disappearance
Doe watched as our Observer both
Transfiguration had you mesmerised
at a mossy fringe
a toe became a stepless step
sinking, sinking
bodies becoming dark water
nothing escapes the Gateless Gate
An event horizon was a fallacy
the Void and THE ALL
tightened all spirals
to silent scream in a Cave pool blacker than black
A pool melting into Doe’s eyes
a velvet not known to Mind
Samadhi was His alone in surrendered peace
Our spirals His ecstatic tools
a mustard lettuce sandwich waited at
another oak table
{POEM READ BY POET ON YOUTUBE @ghairodanielspresence. Check it out ! }
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2024
after I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud, by William Wordsworth
I drifted in the sky as a lonely bird,
from the dust of dreams I arose.
The sigh of desolate heart I heard
emanate from the depth of woes.
The music of love within me didn’t die,
floating in its cadence I soared in the sky.
I was captive in the yearning cage,
shrouded by the shadow of your tree,
my loneliness you could never gauge.
I was longing long to be free,
fly in the zephyr when it began to blow,
flutter in the thicket of yonder plateau.
I felt the flow of fresh southern wind
waft me in the melody of whispering air
through the ashen clouds silver-lined,
freed from the confine of despair.
After storm I reached the horizon of delight,
and soared in the sunburst sky bright.
As the rain drops sparkled in my eyes,
through the washed prism I could see
rainbow of reflected hues splendidly rise,
allure the dormant songbird in me
to leave the nest and fly in melodic swings,
as I spread my beguiled dancing wings.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud"
William Wordsworth.
I wandered lonely as a wave.
slowly, upon the ocean's tide.
O'er depths of a watery grave
alone, in current's wake I ride.
Always moving, I cannot stop
I rise and fall then curl and drop.
I've ebbed and flowed on foreign shores.
Splashed on boats with their sails unfurled.
From tropic isles to the Azores,
welcomed surfers around the world
and tried my best to settle down
in the port city of Cape Town.
My wandering days will not end.
I'm diluted from time to time,
still a wave but with a new blend
depending on the ocean's clime.
I like lapping on a sandy beach,
keeping just out of human reach.
Dolphins swim within my deep swells,
but I don't belong to their pod
and I cannot befriend seashells,
halibut, squid, lobster or cod.
I'm destined to wander and roam.
It's quite lonely without a home.
September 20, 2022
I Wandered Lonely As... Challenge Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
"A child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts."
W. Wordsworth
I am your grandmother.
I spent 24 years making
parenting mistakes, so I think
I'm pretty well trained now,
pretty worn down, open-minded
and accepting.
I think we'll be good friends.
At sixteen, your mother
said she was having a baby
and held up to me the blue pastic
device that tested her urine stream
like when she held up the blue ribbon
she won in kindergarten for the best
easter bunny nest made from marshmallows
and dyed yellow coconut.
Then she threw the blue device out
into the space between us on the bed,
like it was the best card in her deck,
her ace in the hole.
Your father waited in the other room
sitting in the thick silence,
afraid to breathe and miss
my response.
You and your mother did all the work,
but I was there at your birth,
Standing alongside, coaching your
mother to good contractions until
I was exhausted from gritting my
teeth and pushing too.
And your dad was there, too,
but closer to the business end
so he could be the first to know the sex.
An unsolicited psychic had told us
you would be a girl,
and when your dad was told,
he sulked all day
like it was a conspiracy
between the women to produce
only other woman.
He wanted another guy,
someone to give the men the edge,
a male child.
When your mother's body could
keep you from the world no longer,
your head appeared, eyes tightly
shut and a pout on your lips.
Your dad was watching closely,
the shoulder, the belly and then
his arms flew up in the air
like he'd made the touchdown
and he cried, "It's a Boy,
I told you, I told you,"
like he and I had placed a bet.
But then he saw how much
I could love the boy child.
I'm a pretty good grandmother,
and I think we'll be good friends.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud."
Quote by _ William Wordsworth
Wish I was a butterfly free
to just float and glide on breezes,
and each day I had bliss and glee:
just going where my soul pleases,
I would glide- a beauty lonely;
dreaming of bright flowers only.
Lonely . . . can be a lovely thing
finding how to renew my soul,
as I flutter- and on blooms cling:
always on sweet nectar patrol,
so, my days are solitary;
as I drift alone and airy.
__________________
September 19, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/I Wandered Lonely As a Butterfly
Copyright Protected, ID-09-1489-208-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, I Wandered Lonely As _ Challenge
sponsor, Natasha L Scragg, Judged 09/24/2022
Sixth Place