Wildflowers Live On Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb
Wildflowers Live On
Chickens picking amongst wild flowers.
Undug patches with netting bowers.
Tuberculosis that's running rife.
Sore, scrubbed hands on every wife.
Pebbledash cottages with rotten sills,
Made of dryrot and carpenters bills.
The mantle pops the smell of gas.
Shiny the hob and fenders brass.
Coal from the cellar rises in dust,
While draught through a crevice blows unjust.
The outside room is shaped by many,
In brutal weather and sometimes sunny.
Still the wild flowers live on.
Sally Plumb
Wow Sally... This is awesome the flow and wording a treat, the whole poem mellifluous in more ways than one with the honey bees finding those wild flowers! Great imagery of the countryside and old houses here but you bring them to life in such an unusual way but it make it seem so real that you can walk out of the door in to a meadow of wildflowers! Simply superb writing! Dale :)
My first sensation of wildflowers(I was under two) was convolvulus, A pretty pink, ground hugging little plant. xx
Poignant images in every stanza. The wildflowers are God's handiwork. They live under the most diverse conditions, because He tends them. I love to look at the goldenrod growing so richly along my country road.10/10. Love, Sandra
Hi, Sandra. I thought golden rod was a cultivated plant. Put me right, please. Must look into this. Interesting.
interesting poem woven with thought provoking verses and great ending rhymes...10+++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 5:39:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Got it- Snap except mine was deep in the countryside. A different world a different age-sigh
Hi, Michael. We lived in a condemned cottage in the formative part of my life. Shared outside toilet. We were snug in Summer. Winter was a different story. xx