Home » November 2016 Poem-aDay » 24th November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 24

24th November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 24

 

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 24

By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 24, 2016

For today’s prompt, write an imitation poem. Some folks say imitation is the best form of flattery. So with it being Thanksgiving in these parts, I thought it appropriate to pick a poem you enjoy and write an imitation of it. You can include poet and poem of the original if you’d like; or see if others can guess.

Images © Copyright John and Margaret ~ All rights reserved

SNOWDROPS

IMITATION POEM
by John Yeo

Jostled and pushed in a graveyard cloud
That sits by the church high on the hill,
Immediately surrounded by a crowd;
A host of pure white snowdrops, uphill,
Around the graves, under the bush,
Peeping from the long grass lush.

As numerous as the planets that shine
On the edges of the Milky Way
They spread unruly out of line
Around the borders of the churchyard grey:
Countless saw I in a seconds glance,
Bobbing their heads in sprightly prance.

The graves beside them solemn; but they
Outdid the marble solemnity:
A poet could but happily pray
In such a joyful company:
I stared-and-stared but I never thought
What richness to me that scene had brought:

For often; when in grieving pain I lie
In a sad solemn pensive mood,
They crowd into my inner eye
Which is the centre of my solitude;
Then my happy heartbeat almost stops,
Prancing with the wild snowdrops.

© Written by John Yeo~All rights reserved

(With grateful apologies to William Wordsworth)

Daffodils
By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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