When the old man told him the price of the seeds…the farmer shook his head.
"You won't be sorry…trust me….these are magic seeds." The old man said.
"The flowers that grow from these seeds will make a beautiful and varied array…
And though the farmer knew all seeds were magical…he bought these seeds anyway.
He planted them in his garden where they would always be in view…
He watered them and he waited to see if the old man's words were true.
And sure enough the farmer was amazed at the amount of flowers that grew.
He loved their different sizes…their contrasting colors, shapes and hues.
He would sit upon his porch for hours and hours on end
looking out upon his flowers…watching their shapes and sizes blend.
But inside the garden the flowers were unhappy at what the magic seeds created.
They saw the differences between them…and they were jealous…and they hated.
The tall flowers and short flowers hated each other…they called each other names
The white flowers thought they were the most beautiful…
The red, yellow, orange and purple flowers thought the same.
And the more they fought with one another…
the more their jealousy and hatred pervaded
The more the garden seemed to loose its beauty…
the more their hues and colors faded.
And the farmer could do nothing to stop it…and in the end he cried
the day his garden wilted…the day his flowers died.
And as he plowed his garden under…
he knew those magic seeds had power….
but was saddened that the magic in those seeds
never transferred to the flower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
The last two lines are very powerful.The seeds of potential are in all of us..I wrote a poem titled The Bell..A ten from me.I really enjoy your poems.