So this is a strange technique but there is a poem within a poem, if you read the last line of my poem you should be able to read Wordsworth's poem Daffodils. '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;' So here is my poem 'Thoughts.'
How does one wonder thought I,
The mind so oft has wandered.
The world becomes seemingly lonely.
Your emotions storm within, as
If they were made of crashing waves. A
Sudden thought, you feel lifted in a cloud,
A haze of colour and confusion in that,
You ponder how it floats.
What carries you on?
Thoughts melding and blending up high.
Onward an O’er,
The world clears and you travel, across the Vales,
The whisper of thoughts piercing through the air, And
The wind carries them through valleys and hills.
Whisked away in the air and when,
Your mind dissolves one and all.
Lost is a space impossible to find, at
The edge of where you existed, Once.
Wandering and confused am I.
Thoughts whirling from what you saw.
Images fly as you flew. A
Cacophony, stirring together in a crowd,
Stumbling and tumbling until, A
Thought stops and now you are the Host.
Mind calmed and resting in the peace of
Delicate rays bright and golden.
A single thought tingling inside, the sight of Daffodils.
How does one wonder thought I,
The mind so oft has wandered.
The world becomes seemingly lonely.
Your emotions storm within, as
If they were made of crashing waves. A
Sudden thought, you feel lifted in a cloud,
A haze of colour and confusion in that,
You ponder how it floats.
What carries you on?
Thoughts melding and blending up high.
Onward an O’er,
The world clears and you travel, across the Vales,
The whisper of thoughts piercing through the air, And
The wind carries them through valleys and hills.
Whisked away in the air and when,
Your mind dissolves one and all.
Lost is a space impossible to find, at
The edge of where you existed, Once.
Wandering and confused am I.
Thoughts whirling from what you saw.
Images fly as you flew. A
Cacophony, stirring together in a crowd,
Stumbling and tumbling until, A
Thought stops and now you are the Host.
Mind calmed and resting in the peace of
Delicate rays bright and golden.
A single thought tingling inside, the sight of Daffodils.