God's garden is called Paradise,
creation came from there.
He watches it with shining eyes
and marks each crevice where
a pesky weed dare raise its head
he sends a lightning strike
and soon the weeds are truly dead
(which none of them do like) .
One day, the Devil, flying by
gave Him a friendly nod,
and, being brave, he asked Him why
those weeds would bother God.
So, God, who never spoke a lie
said he had found that weeds
were rather clever, even sly
but that their daily deeds
were unacceptable as such
due to their sense of freedom.
And since they didn't pray so much
he really did not need 'em.
what about the stinking roger the british bought it over here with the rabbits another good write herbert they keep coming plenty for the british to read while it is raining the thing about it herbert you are teaching as well, they can learn in between showers Warm regards AJS
weeds are funny things...the dandelion were brought to this country by our western european ancestors as a decorative and edible delight. somewhere along the line it was deemed a weed, and many cry in horror if one rears it's edible yellow head! On the organic farm I lived and worked on, the nuns cultivated and used many things a 'modern' person would poison his yard to get rid of...weeds are funny....one man's weed is another's lunch! There is one weed I think we could do without...People here call her Mary Jane. I have seen it cause much pain and sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delisciously, wickedly funny! From a Baptist turned Buddhist. (Us weeds gotta stict t'gether!) Rob