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All the Daffs are Dead

written by: J.Ahlberg

@anothermadidea

 

The infamous poem I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth, echoes in this piece. Wordsworth and his famous daffodils embody the romanticism movement in poetry. This is a lament and a response to the original by Wordsworth. What is romance today?

 

All the daffs are dead my dear

All the daffs are dead.

The rows of gold with bobbing heads

Are tarnished, withered clear,

They gave up dancing in the breeze

The spring it brought a daff disease.

 

They bring with them the very first

Sign that winter's gone,

And as they shrivel to the hearse

Their yellow crowns turned down,

We notice not their somber song

For in their place new shoots appear

The promise of what's to come.

 

All the daffs have gone my dear

All the daffs have gone.

The blokes on blokes trailed back-to-back

Have nothing but a saddened tear,

They joined the gym to slim and thin

Swipe right for love and naked skin.

 

Wander loveless like a cloud

Immersed within a social crowd.

Partners did they seek enmasse

United by their loneliness.

Their roots did break

And bonds were fake

Romance was sold

In marigold.

 

Those dead, dead daffs

Aren't coming back

With yellow heads

And loveless lack,

Those dead, dead daffs

Are shamed and lewd

Alone in wistful solitude.

 

Romance is dead

The daffs said so,

Romance is dead

Just so you know,

Swipe right

To try a Tinder date

Swipe right

To meet your soul and fate,

And dance with dormant daffodils

Consumed with empty cheapened thrills.

Now all the daffs are dead my dear

Now all the daffs are dead.

J.Ahlberg

J.Ahlberg

Jo is an academic researcher in the philosophy of Imagination. She has several jobs which include: university lecturer in philosophy, GCSE English teacher and a "jobbing" writer - writing commissions from multimillion pound international bids to annoying cliched flyers. In her spare time, she is walked by the dog, organised by the kids and validated by her husband.
J.Ahlberg

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