Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, while playing Pokemon Go and trying to catch Quilladin on August 2, 2016

 

A score of years have passed since your release

Childish nostalgia; games we once enjoyed.

Gameboy, Dreamcast, Nintendo 64

Amidst the console scrap-heap in the sky

Clouds scud across, sweet summer's zephyr.

Yet I care not. I'm in pursuit mode – hot

On heels of rare Quilladin green and brown;

Chestnut bred with hedgehog, strange beast indeed.

If only I could find reception in midst

Of landscape serene, these green hills and crags

These beauteous plots, hedgerows, fields – Nature

All around - why focus on tiny screen?

At this wide wilderness, I barely glance

Entranced by tiny pixels as they dance

Enticingly away from futile tries

To entrap Snorlax in my virtual grasp.

Whilst I leap to find elusive signal,

I lose my footing, tumble into tarn

My precious iphone dowsed in mountain stream

Screen smashed, game irretrievably lost.

My eyes open then to Nature's beauty,

Not augmentations of reality.

I fix my gaze on real, not Google Earth;

Take in each second, value every breath.

If Wordsworth were around to see this day,

Playing Pokemon would ruin his poetry.

Tags: google, nature, poetry, pokemon, romantic, wordsworth