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Writer's pictureJarlath Busby

Daffodil Lament



No animals were harmed in the making of this poem


Daffodil Lament


Solace for Wordsworth, a sea of yellow

Joyous daffodils, fluttering with glee

Yeats’ solitude, so serene and mellow

The purple glow of tranquil Innisfree

 

But my Eden, once green is gone, Garden

Ripped asunder like a scene from the Somme

I feel my blood boil, my cold heart harden

Bare clay, craters, holes where plant life’s long gone

 

What agony this, emotional ruction

Botanically bereft I may now be, but

I’ll fix that weapon of grass destruction

That vixen villain, my marauding mutt

 

I dream of an oasis, a feature

Where trees and flowers all colours abound

Roots fed by the rotting interred creature

Blooms safe from the jaws of my avenged hound

 

Look I spy her now, the vulpine vulture

Eating the entrails of her latest kill

The last death throes of my horticulture

As she beheads another daffodil

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