I. Transcendence’s Majesty
I am no cloud—
I’m the storm’s first breath,
a silver howl lit with golden fire.
Valleys kneel. Rivers chant my name
in hymns that crack the spine
of stone and sky.
II. Manifesto’s Rebellion
Wordsworth?
His daffodils lie like pressed coins—
quiet, polished, pale.
But mine?
Mine slice the wind like thunder-forged blades,
hip-hop demigods stomping rhythms
into the bones of silence.
III. Revolution’s Fire
Ten thousand sun-grenades erupt—
each petal a siren:
Burn with me.
The waves recoil.
The trees bear witness.
Even the soil wears scars
from where we danced.
IV. The Final Triumph
Let scholars mourn their fragile blooms.
I spit on inward eyes.
My daffodils don’t bloom—
they rise.
They march.
They conquer.
And when they win,
the world will wear their yellow
like war paint in spring.
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Author:
Mottakeenur Rehman (
Offline) - Published: June 11th, 2025 04:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Mottakeenur Rehman
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Comments4
Turning an old image into something new is always wondrous, one of the finest ways to make poetry speak. I am moved by the power of your war paint metaphor... but don't underestimate old Wordsworth. His poetry was a revolution of soft power, a hue and cry that the world need not be stingy and bland and monopolized by getting and spending, all work and no play. Keep them coming! Your works are serious stuff, never trite or disappointing!
Thank you for such a generous and thoughtful reading—I’m deeply honored you engaged with the poem’s fire and shadows. You’re absolutely right: Wordsworth’s ‘soft power’ was its own insurrection, a quiet roar against the grind of industrial fists. My rebellion simply wears a different armor (war paint, not waistcoats!). But revolutions need both—the whisper and the war cry. Grateful for your wisdom, and even more for your encouragement. The daffodils aren’t done marching yet.
A magnificent portrayal of nature in all its color and splendor. Written from a seasoned pen of an artist that knows how to draw the reader in and waltz them through the garden to the end with warpaint and all. Lovely wording in this poem and divided well into passages.
Thank you so much for your kind and vivid words! I’m thrilled you enjoyed the poem and felt drawn into its imagery. Your appreciation means a lot—happy to share this ‘waltz through the garden’ with you!
A beautiful write of nature in all its wonderment and glory, may those daffodils keep marching, enjoyed the read
Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m thrilled you enjoyed the poem—nature’s beauty is endless inspiration. The daffodils shall march on, indeed! Grateful for your read and your friendship.
You are very welcome
Here's to the march of daffodils🙏🏻🕊️
Thanks a lot ❤️❤️🙏🙏🙏
Most welcome MR🕊🙏🏻
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