| Haiku to a Rose Sweet spiced red blush rose Green bush filled with prickly thorns Allure or warning? Red Rose Red rose, red rose, Why do you bloom? To bring you comfort And dispel your gloom. Red rose, red rose, Why smell you so sweet? To bring you pleasure And give you a treat. Red rose, red rose, Why have you a thorn? To protect me from Your growing scorn. Red rose, red rose, What can I do? Be careful by me And I'll not prick you. Red rose, red rose, I loved you so. But you drew blood So I must go. I loved and lost Am now worn and torn Wiser now, I know Every rose has its thorn. -MW When you look upon a rosebush, What do you see- The blushing pink blossom Thorns that prick and draw blood Aphids that must be sprayed away Bare thorny branches to prune into shape A green bush full of promising buds- What do you see? And what does that say about you? -MW MW's Epigrams A beautiful rose must perforce have a thorn. Wild roses all have thorns. Cultivated blooms are often shorn. Love is both rosy and thorny. | An Enigma Man and woman, a disparate pair: Each is to each a questionable novelty. The unknown and suspicious other, Strong attraction and anxious suspense, Warm feeling and love, disdain and hatred, And all is unpredictably fluid. Man and woman, a disparate pair: Each is to each the other half, Each to the other but a means, Each is ever in need of the other And neither is ever content with the other, And life alone is barren for both. An enigmatic relationship indeed, But life's purpose is well served! -JM Love Love is blind, or so it's said, But who, pray tell, needs eyes in bed. Love is irrational, or so it's said, But who, in love, wants a clear head. Love is short-lived, or so many say, But what, on earth, is here to stay. Love may be blind, mad and fleeting, But a gift it's still, a treasured godsend, An awesome challenge and a rare pleasure That is best lived and not long pondered. -JM JM's Epigrams: Bark but do not bite. Outrage begets outrage. Provocation invites reciprocation. Men assert, women nurture.  I know no romance, only unconditional love for the members of my pack. |
Thorn in the Side
A little plant grew in the garden. It was very little and so it grew unnoticed by the gardener. One day the little plant decided it wanted to be noticed. So it made a pretty little yellow flower. But the flower was little and the gardener did not see it. “How sad,” the little plant said to itself. “I made such a pretty flower and the gardener doesn’t even see it. I must do something about this.”
So the little plant grew a thorn. When the gardener came by with his watering can, he brushed against the little plant and she stuck him in the thumb.
“Ow,” said the gardener, sucking his thumb. “What stuck me?”
He looked down and saw the little plant with her little yellow flower. But he didn’t say anything about her flower.
The next day, the little plant stuck the gardener again, this time in his side.
“Ow,” he said again. “That really hurt.” And he bent down to the plant. “Stop pricking me, little plant.”
But the little plant wanted him to notice her beautiful yellow flower. So she stuck him again and again and every day that week. But each time he just said “Ow” and kept gardening.
“One day, he will notice my flower,” the little plant said to herself. “And he will tell me how beautiful it is.”
On Friday, the gardener came out wearing gloves and carrying a shovel instead of the watering can.
“Oh, he is going to move me to a better spot,” the little plant thought with excitement. “A spot where everyone can see my beautiful yellow flower.”
The gardener dug up the little plant, taking care to avoid her thorn. “I don’t want a plant in the garden that pricks me all the time,” he said aloud. “I’ll plant something else here.”
And so saying, he took up the plant in his shovel and carried it over to the compost pile. There he dumped the little plant. As he did so, he noticed the yellow flower.
“Well, a little yellow blossom. I’ll take it inside and put it in a vase.”
And so saying, he cut the flower and its stem from the plant. The little plant stuck him one more time with her thorn. But that was all she could do. And the gardener took the yellow flower inside and put it in a vase to enjoy until it withered and was tossed out.
-MW
A little plant grew in the garden. It was very little and so it grew unnoticed by the gardener. One day the little plant decided it wanted to be noticed. So it made a pretty little yellow flower. But the flower was little and the gardener did not see it. “How sad,” the little plant said to itself. “I made such a pretty flower and the gardener doesn’t even see it. I must do something about this.”
So the little plant grew a thorn. When the gardener came by with his watering can, he brushed against the little plant and she stuck him in the thumb.
“Ow,” said the gardener, sucking his thumb. “What stuck me?”
He looked down and saw the little plant with her little yellow flower. But he didn’t say anything about her flower.
The next day, the little plant stuck the gardener again, this time in his side.
“Ow,” he said again. “That really hurt.” And he bent down to the plant. “Stop pricking me, little plant.”
But the little plant wanted him to notice her beautiful yellow flower. So she stuck him again and again and every day that week. But each time he just said “Ow” and kept gardening.
“One day, he will notice my flower,” the little plant said to herself. “And he will tell me how beautiful it is.”
On Friday, the gardener came out wearing gloves and carrying a shovel instead of the watering can.
“Oh, he is going to move me to a better spot,” the little plant thought with excitement. “A spot where everyone can see my beautiful yellow flower.”
The gardener dug up the little plant, taking care to avoid her thorn. “I don’t want a plant in the garden that pricks me all the time,” he said aloud. “I’ll plant something else here.”
And so saying, he took up the plant in his shovel and carried it over to the compost pile. There he dumped the little plant. As he did so, he noticed the yellow flower.
“Well, a little yellow blossom. I’ll take it inside and put it in a vase.”
And so saying, he cut the flower and its stem from the plant. The little plant stuck him one more time with her thorn. But that was all she could do. And the gardener took the yellow flower inside and put it in a vase to enjoy until it withered and was tossed out.
-MW