Best Susanna Poems
Mark
Creative, artistic, musical, analytical
Brother of Michael and Susanna; son of Fred and Marlyn
Lover of Nelly (Bourieau) H., science fiction novels and films, private serenity
Who feels respect for God and humanity, love for nature, worry for the Earth’s future
Who fears mediocrity, retirement, economic collapse leading to a popular insurrection
Who would like to see successful sons, grandchildren, his songs produced/recorded
Marina, California (for the moment)
Halliday
It's a joy to let go.
To stop being perfect, such agony.
More glory, in just being me.
To let it be OK, to not be top banana.
There's no Oscar win~ and then...
Simply end up looking old and worse..
Than Quasimodo's sister, Susanna!
Serenity has magic cosmetics of its own.
Peace in your heart, no need to be bold.
Loving others, more than yourself.
Give up trying to impress,comment more!
Quit looking for praise.
These contents of my lazy day.
June 28, 2020
8p.m. PST
Can you not see?
All the ducks inside your arm?
Did you think hotel paradise,
Came with no illusions attached?
Violins and rats
Rats and violins
Conductor in a white suite
Playing musical roulette
Slow motion squirrels a symphony
Dancing death on my head
Hotel paradise is the rats meow
Old couches and peeling paint
The evil Mickey mouse is really quite quaint
Oh Susanna sings in this hotel
Ethiopian Nelly checked out long long ago
Dear friends and gentle hearts
I pass on with 38cents in civil war notes
With 3 cents to spare
Bury me amongst the minstrel songs
Among quiet flowers gleefully listening
I have composed stately song
As I decompose, My epitaph shall say
Beautiful dreamer down below
I lie in my suitcase
Ships are made for sinking
Whiskey made for drinking
I am Stephen but who am I?
Form: Disjointed Double Verse
Can you guess who is Stephen?
He was born in Genoa,
and his mother was Susanna;
and he set sail at the age of fourteen,
to begin a new exploration age!
His father Domenico
gave him inspiration and courage...
while his three brothers: Giacomo,
Bartolomeo and Giovanni ventured with him
on his long and dangerous voyages,
and accused of many atrocities...
they were sent back to Spain in chains!
A visionary with an extraordinary man's ego,
followed in the footsteps of Marco Polo...
and in his final days, he died a disappointed man!
I'll call her a different name
This girl whom I thought was my dame
On holiday she went
With my money well spent
To Malta she went on a plane
Whilst there she met a waiter called Frank
In bed playing sexual pranks
This Susanna my girl
His heart she did twirl
We're engaged, and this is her thanks
I looked forward to the day she came home
With this waiter her hands on he roamed
Hey! Susanna your dumped
I hope you end up real plump
Your a dog, I should throw you a bone
Wow! a man with the final say
Our relationship ends today
I wish you the best
With your holiday zest
It's my turn to go out and play
Father and Mother,
years and years have gone by
yet love has kept its home in your eyes.
You've got a love you can sink your teeth in,
you've got a love I can believe in...
Like fresh cut lilacs
and the swing outside
on the very best tree besides
the Cherry and Maple,
Bradford Pear and Apple
we all used to climb
in the summer heat,
running fast
on dewy grass
wearing bare feet.
Dad and Mom,
we Maple Tree love you.
Although things have and will change,
something about your love
will always stay the same...
Small house
in a small town
white-gold rings
and life's simple things
are what you're about.
Three kids who adore you with all they've got.
You're rich with what can't be bought.
You've got a love like:
that
I was four years old
with my two favorite people,
holding on to my fishing pole.
I hear Dad's laugh
and look, Mom fell flat
in the river
with water clear up to her shoulders
and we all laugh.
Yeah, you've got a love like: that
You've got a love you can sink your teeth in,
you've got a love I can believe in.
Like huddling together
through a storm in the summer
looking at both of you I wonder:
Aren't you afraid of anything?
You...weren't.
After we caught fireflies
Mom, you helped me name mine
and let me keep it inside.
You nursed Joel back to health
after the bee hive
and earring incidents.
Susanna too with her 'Job' blisters
and falling off the slide on her head
and you pulled out the stones in my knee
while I ungratefully screamed.
And Dad with your arms of love
coming in for an 'everything's ok' hug.
Thank you for that.
Dad and Mom
we Maple Tree love you.
Small house in a small town
white-gold rings
and life's simple things
are what you're about.
Three kids who adore you
with all they've got.
You're rich with what can't be bought.
You've got a love like: that
I’m not too sure will I make it
Confusing the day with night
My visions are sure they are naked
And see-through held up to the light
I’ve been thinking it out
Since that thief shut my mouth
With the words that he took to be true
He made off so fast
Couldn’t stop so he crashed
But too late I was wearing his shoes
I had to call up the doctor
I knew we would not have met by chance
But he said he was rather quite busy
And really tied up in his pants
I’m a casual liar
With a hypocrite smile
And I can’t get up from the ground
He said take some of these
Get up on your knees
Keep your loyalty profound
Lit up to take another hit
The swallow song had just begun
Threw away my senses so quick
Now I’d trade my eyelids for some
Couldn’t hear the clock
No ticking no tock
A timeless spell in the park
In the hours I had not
I was happy as I walked
Knowing shadows were not cast in the dark
‘Twas there I found Susanna the dancer
She opened the door well it was her place
Could see her wondering what’s he after
Is it a funny look or just his face?
Foot in the door wasn’t trying to sell
Couldn’t stand still
On no other shelf
Her creamy thighs opened
Without a noise spoken
That is all that I’m wanting to tell
She's the look of a hothouse flower;
She seems to be losing power-
Like a rose in need of summer shower!
Like a bird retreating to summer bower!
Hair plastered, her dress a mess,
She's been under a current stress.
Susanna didn't mean to transgress,
But, she's a tendency to obsess.
Her eyes wild, and full of remorse,
Desperation left Susanna no recourse.
When comes the time for the discourse,
She shall wilt, of course!
She's a certain look of fright,
In her slow and hopeless flight.
Though none yet know of her plight,
Her future's suddenly not so bright!
She's the look of a desert bloom,
Sweltering in some unhappy room.
Susanna seems about to swoon;
She's danced to the wrong tune!
Liza B of Yorkshire stock
a tinsmith'a wife
her face bears
travails of life
Lily B orphaned
in a sad manner
commissioned
'neath the army's banner
Violet O born in the great war
father Ernest
she never saw
Anne S unanswered
questions still accrue
the granma
some never knew
Frances L her tragedy
was to unfold
the exact details
remain untold
Annie O granny Mayo,
mother came to know
by the canal
at Brookside row
Susanna O a mid-victorian maid
her determination
does not fade
Ethel G's fish&chips held sway
in her wakefield take-a-way
Harriet H high cheeked,pretty&petite
of twinklig eyes&
dressed so neat
Edith G of Jewish stock
a housewife so usung
to me,her face
is ever young
Bill's Bill
Throughout the land old Billy did strut
on a search for a certain fine butt
Susanna strolled by
and captured Bill's eye
but he tripped when pulled in his gut
Sue laughed at the extent of his plight
before sensing that all was not right
blood smeared on his cheek
his outcome looked bleak
he'd be alone again on this night
He was surprised when Suzy stood still
flashing him her twin mountainous hills
he reached for her rear
a smirk did appear
until he saw the enormous bill
If you look at Stephen Foster,
who wrote songs for the minstrel shows,
you wouldn’t expect a genius
that all of the world would know.
He was another bookkeeper
for a steamship company,
until he started writing tunes
that to this day sound masterly.
Today those same minstrel shows
seem quite insulting to good minds,
they weren’t exactly ‘High Culture’
way back in Foster’s time,
but the man wrote Old Susanna,
and My Old Kentucky Home,
the Swanee River, Camptown Races,
and Hard Times Come Again No More.
Even Beautiful Dreamer,
and Genie With The Light Brown Hair,
the amount of hits this man wrote
can drive musicians to despair.
From throw-away entertainment
that never got a second look,
this man alone wrote the core of
The Great American Songbook.
That he still remains relevant,
even known at this late date,
show that we never can predict
who exactly will be great.
His seared look, from a painted gird brow dons,
a face like Van Gogh with both ears, though just,
as lost, looks about an empty room of challenges,
that is built high on lost convictions, drowns in a,
festering of desperation, as sweats beads a stench,
on an unswept floor, wavering, between old unhealed,
wounds of a, dark past, all attached to young love,
and their new miseries.
He takes a swig and walks away from a sultry,
sway as a piano's light tune, breaks off key and,
holds, as a blown off woman pops her gum and,
snobs at his direction unnoticed and wanders off,
while a glib man in slick clothes offers a chance at,
cards, he simply walks away until a chair moves,
from behind, it's slick, he then stops with his back,
still faces him, a chair slides back, he walks on.
He comes up to the man at the piano, who is a bit,
jittery, asked hm if he knew a song called, 'Ole
Susanna', he replied saying that he never heard of,
that song, he then steps back a spell and figured,
him to be from the north, and gives him a look like,
a Picasso painting for he knows that people out West,
knows, 'Ole Susanna', so he's thinking that things are,
afoot here in this town, as he looks around at stares.
He backs away, on back to the bar, takes a final swig,
as a jingled coin settles to silence in the uncanniness,
of a quietude western bar, as he dons his hat, the,
bartender hollers that set the bar back to its norm, girls,
giggling, cards shuffling, piano playing, and all of the,
joviality returns, as the new guy in town, hops on a horse,
and pulls away as a normal western town fades in the sun as,
a drifter stops, turns and sees afar off, a painting by Monet.
Come back to me
for the old times’ sake,
Oh my Susanna, my love,
With rue my heart is laden,
Come, do come back to me.
Pay heed to the laments
of my pining heart,
Oh my Susanna, come
vanquish my loneliness,
Embrace me in your loving arms
Oh, save me from this distress.
Oh! Susanna, my cruel tormentor,
Awaken the passion of yore,
smother me with your burning desires
and entice my soul with the
magic of your love once more.
Oh Susanna, love of my life,
With rue is my spirit laden
Let me into your heart again.
~Contest by Julie Rodeheaver
In Kispest
I arrived at Kobánya-Kispest metro station—the end station.
I felt good in the air of this loved place. Part of my life. Part
Hmm. Unforgettable desire. Waiting for love. I had her one.
She is a secret. She loved me. She has passed away. Part
One. Why? Part of my life. Susanna. Lovefull woman. Heart
Not just a lover. Friend, lifemate, soulmate, more than a wife
Time I left you
Sorry
Time I mistake
I am sorry
About
My life
That's why
You've gone far
Sorry
Please
Hearts of men and women around cities and villages bloomed.
Jesus lived among them and moved like a life-giving sun.
Was society as clean as it looked as a groom groomed?
This was the cause of the incarnation of God's own son.
Women disciples: Joanna, Susanna, and Magdalene
Served Jesus, for whom men and women were like his two eyes.
All (both rich and poor) loved the teachings of this Nazarene.
Through parables, he revealed their secrets above the skies.
God, the farmer, went to sow his words into this wide world.
Some humans heard, but Satan picked them up soon, like birds.
Some thought they loved hearing them, but every word soon got furled.
Some worries about the world, like thorns, grew and choked the words.
Hear, if you have ears, said Jesus, and went ahead with love.
Each of his deeds, like each creature, revealed his knit above.
(Based on Luke 8:1-15)