Wildflowers, Poetry and Pearls

in memory of our sweet Mimi, our own precious pearl with the beautiful spirit of a wildflower


Stumbling through blogs this evening, I found a real gem of a poem by Ruth Forman, posted by Black-Eyed Susan’s. The poem is called Poetry Should Ride the Bus .

I then went out to gather wild flowers, so to speak, and came back with this bouquet:

Black-Eyed Susan by John Gay

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard;
‘O! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet William sails among the crew.’

William, who high upon the yard
Rock’d with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard
He sigh’d, and cast his eyes below:
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast
If chance his mate’s shrill call he hear,
And drops at once into her nest:—
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William’s lip those kisses sweet.

‘O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

‘Believe not what the landmen say
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:
They’ll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For Thou art present wheresoe’er I go.

‘If to fair India’s coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

‘Though battle call me from thy arms
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms
William shall to his Dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan’s eye:

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread,
No longer must she stay aboard;
They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land;
‘Adieu!’ she cries; and waved her lily hand.



Black Eyed Susans by George Wallace

I see the bright face of this our still young and hopeful nation
more in a parking lot weed than in the display
of its proud public gardens, untamed as the original
North American wild, outwitting us to the last
& filled with the breath, a continent wide,
of unplanned vitality.

In the lowest dandelion, in the fairy clover,
in the dusty sway of goldenrod where two highways merge,
the ragged memory of prairie grasslands calls out to me
& praises still sung to the sun-rippled expanse
of northern forest.

I leave to Europe the curve and grace
of horticultural refinement, manicured intention,
& tired topiary imagination & rather, stoop to worship her,
even at this crumbling bit of earth,
your voice, America - stubborn, plain, strangely

triumphant. So long as a single unplanned flower
raises up its head to greet the expectant sun,
I too shall greet, in celebration, the promise
of your ragged, wonderful world, which is the reason
why we came here in the first place

& yes, pretty as a patch of Black Eyed Susans.






Black-eyed Susans (music video by Lori Willcuts)







Thank you, Bing, for the Let's Be Friends Award! Stop in at Living, Loving...and Coping and learn a bit about the beautiful and kind PinkLady. :)


And another big thank you to Linda at Psyche Connections for the Your Blog is Fabulous Award! Shucks. Please stop by Linda's and introduce yourself! (You'll be glad you did.) :)

I hope that you all have a beautiful weekend. I will be reading some short stories from my 100 Shots of Short list.


the sweetest black eyes of all~