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Delaware, United States
Deborah Hawkins, penned Debra Renée Byrd, began writing after a blank book project in elementary school and never stopped, fashioning stories based on her favorite TV shows and movies before creating more original works. She studied at the University of the Arts and Florida State University before settling down and graduating from Temple University. She now resides in her hometown of Dover, DE, where she spends most of her time at work or at church. She loves fantasies, superheroes, is a trekkie and a brown coat. She loves television and lives for Final Fantasy video games, having collected most of them. She has read a myriad of authors, and her favorite authors change whenever she finds a new book that changes her life... "When you can't run, you crawl. When you can't crawl...well, you know the rest." -Tracey, Firefly, "The Message"

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Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Wednesday Words: A Victorian Flower Dictionary

Happy Wednesday!

Most Wednesday, I share with you what I am currently reading. While I'm still reading Octavia Butler's Seed to Harvest, that will be a while, but I have also started reading the companion to a book I read a few years ago, Language of Flowers.



A Victorian Flower Dictionary by Mandy Kirkby has everything you need to know about the most popular flowers. Each flower has a meaning: like an iris means "message." There's one flower that has like 5 meanings based on the color, but I can't remember which one. One color means "I love you," but a striped one means "I never want to see you again." lol

So, as I use Random.org to help me choose a page, let's see what it gives me out of the 192 pages in this dictionary.........................page 126.

That is the chapter about (Wicked Witch voice) the Poppy, which means "fantastic extravagance." There is a poem on page 126, so here it is for you: "Poppies" by the 19th century poet Frida Wolfe.

The poppies in the garden, they all wear frocks of silk,
Some are purple, some are pink, and others white as milk,
Light, light for dancing in, for dancing when the breeze
Play a little two-step for the blossoms and the bees.
Fine, fine, for dancing in, frilly at the hem,
Oh, when I watch the poppies dance I long to dance like them!

The poppies in the garden have let their silk frocks fall
All about the border paths, but where are they at all?
Here a frill and there a flounce – a rag of silky red,
But not a poppy-girl is left – I think they went to bed.
Gone to bed and gone to sleep; and weary they must be,
For each has left her box of dreams upon the stem for me.

4 comments:

Chrys Fey said...

I love flowers and poppies are one of my favorites. :)

Heather R. Holden said...

Aw, that's such a lovely poem! :)

SC Author said...

My mom loves flowers - maybe this as a birthday gift?

Anonymous said...

You should!!