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Beyond “Daffodils”
The British weather gets my goat.
For once, upon a morning stroll,
My path became a flooded moat,
Whilst lightning’s flash and thunder’s roll
Alarmed me with their blinding din –
The downpour soaked me to the skin.
I trudged through muck, avoided trees
Lest I should be electrified,
Until I reached, on wobbly knees,
Dove Cottage, spent and petrified.
Alas, I got pneumonia,
In fevered dreams I tossed and turned,
While daily I grew bonier;
Yet fortune smiled, Death’s call I spurned.
And nowadays, my inner eye
Says, “Ere you walk, first check the sky!”
.
.
Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles.
Thank you, Paul, for this witty and endearing reflection (although I’m very glad to hear you survived pneumonia). I think your poem well displays the British characteristic of being able to smile at yourself, not to mention the native fondness for talking about the weather! Best wishes, Bruce.
Thanks, Bruce.
Yes, we Brits certainly can’t turn down the opportunity to diss the weather!
Well, Paul, if you don’t like the weather and want a change, move to Michigan ? Hah! Very enjoyable lyric on the work behind the scenes for the Spring Extravaganza! And, I am glad you got your “words worth” on those daffydowndillies!
Very good and spot on.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Jonathan. I’ve parodied one of my favourite poems! There could be a place in poets’ Hell for me.
I laughed out loud at pneumonia/bonier! This walk was enjoyable to read about, including its echo of “Daffodils”. I imagine Wordsworth would like it. Glad you survived.
Thanks, Cynthia. ‘Daffodils’ is one of my favourite poems, so I’m sure Wordsworth would have forgiven me.
This is a really nice poem (both comic and a lamentation) about the vicissitudes of British weather. And Cynthia is right about the rhyme of pneumonia and bonier — it’s totally unexpected, and therefore unforgettable.
I was reminded of an old nursery rhyme:
Doctor Foster
Went to Gloucester
In a shower of rain.
He stepped in a puddle
Up to his middle
And never went there again.
I remember as a kid (probably with a touch of OCD) being most disappointed with the Dr Foster nursery rhyme, that ‘middle’ and ‘puddle’ didn’t rhyme – yet the image carries it through.
I’m glad you enjoyed ‘Beyond Daffodils’, Joseph.
Paul, you remind me of the time I visited Dove Cottage. The weather was the same, and your description of the details must be what Wordsworth often thought of writing. I’m sure he felt the ill effects of lakeside weather frequently, but I’m happy to report I did not get pneumonia, thanks to Norwegian rubber boots that kept my feet warm and ventilated at the same time. Wish you had had a pair, but your poem really required that miserable final stanza for a truly atmospheric parody.
Margaret, your comment put me in mind of the hilarious 2010 BBC travel documentary, The Trip, with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. Here is the Dove Cottage clip:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPMoyBZLF1w
This was a delight! I especially liked ‘ere you walk, first check the sky’. Or perhaps: I think my walk I should postpone/ And check the weather on my phone! Thoroughly enjoyable.
Glad you enjoyed it, Rohini. For me, it’s a pleasure to muck around with one of my favourite poems, especially if the feedback is positive.
Very nice indeed! It’s no wonder that you now spend a lot of time in northern Africa, the land of few sniffles.
Colds can be acquired any time of the year, CB, and here in West Africa is no exception, especially when the seasons change. We’re currently moving from a hot and extended Saharan summer, into a tolerable cooler season, with its accompanying sniffles.
For me, the best thing about daffodils is that none of our common rapacious wild herbivores want to eat them.
I guess that’s why the daffodils were everywhere, CB, and why they made such an impression on Wordsworth and those reading the poem. What could be comparable? Lavender fields (with their accompanying scent) in Provence, France? American buffalos thundering across the plains day after day before they were hunted to near extinction? Wildebeests making the annual migration in East Africa? Swarms of locusts darkening the sky? Breathtaking!
What I enjoyed about this is that its tribute to Wordsworth’s famous poem is subtle. Were it not for the subtitle, I would not have immediately associated the two – at least not until I came to “inner eye.” You don’t write about daffodils, but instead contrast Wordsworth’s paean to the Platonic ideal with a question of eminent practicality. This was an original and thought-provoking dialogue with a classic.
I’m glad you enjoyed the poem, Adam.
As I’ve mentioned, Daffodils is one of my favourite poems, so my poem is more in the vein of ‘in an alternative universe…
‘Dove Cottage’ was also a clue, and if you go to the reply to Margaret’s comment, there’s a link to a funny Dove Cottage video.