Why Must We Pick The Flowers? Poem by Mary Nagy
Why Must We Pick The Flowers?
Why is it
when we see a beautiful flower
our first instinct
is to pick it?
We just want to yank it up
and take it with us
with no regard for the flower.
No guilt in the fact
that it will die within a day or so now.
Wouldn't it be nice
if when we see a flower
we just look and admire
the shape of it's curves
the scent of it's body
the sheer ability to survive
in a world like this?
Yet, rarely do we see one
without thinking of plucking it right up
and keeping it for our very own
with little or no thoughts of
how much joy and beauty
this flower could bring to others.
Is this the selfishness of humans
or do we just think that little
of flowers?
I'm sending you a big bouquet of roses made of tissue paper. (smiles) . This poem makes us ponder what may be our arrogance. Rusty
Well my dear I suppose you'll have to stay where you are then.Pity, make a lovely show in my garden.Only having fun! ...Love Duncan!
Just think my friend, what does it mean when no more flowers can be seen the sight of flowers does surprise, their beauty, gentle to the eyes their fragrance, lovely to the nose much poetry and welcome prose but God made flowers, yes, indeed to give some beauty to each weed. The flower that you pick to keep creates a wound so very deep and through the forest goes a sigh a flower, plucked, will always cry. Mary you write some wonderful poetry. Best H
I look at all the lovely little flowers I can, I would pluck all those ladies for myself, but even if they laugh at me as they walk away, I still know, they are lovely flowers! !
I agree wholeheartedly on this Mary, I prefer myself to see flowers growing in their correct enviroment. But it's also fun creating with them, and we give pleasure on happy occasions, and brighten up a sad occasion such as bereavement and funerals. All the different designs that can be captured in flowers is unbelievable, but first and foremost, I still like to see them growing naturally. Lovely poem with a lovely message. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:38:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Indeed, I do share such sentiments and have written similar poems.Though in confession: My mother was a florist for 11 years, and I helped her with the business till 1995. Heh, now I'm laughing at myself. Enjoyed the fresh mind of the poem. Thank you.