The Rose

There once was a rose that gave off such a fragrance
That all who were drawn to her, poets or vagrants,
The smart and the stupid, the kind and the vicious,
Swooned with delight she smelled so delicious.
What joy to that nostril that happened to stray
Within fifty feet on a warm summer day.
And alas for the nose that would lose in a sneeze
That blessed elixir she blew on the breeze.
But that rosy red flower, so proud of her power,
Became more conceited hour by hour.
The scent she exuded! She had to concede
That she was most special, most special indeed.

With her leaves open wide and her petals unfurled
She stood on her stem and proclaimed to the world:
"My scent should be sniffened by only the best.
It's far far too precious for all of the rest.
Only the wise, the deserving, may stay.
Let all the unworthy be winnowed away."
And, with a casual wave of her leaf,
She banished a sniffer - called him a thief.
She summoned a panel of expert advisors -
Pundits, professors and moguls and misers -
Who hatched out a plan they thought was fantastic:
A globe made of glass - fine crystal, not plastic -
Connected to clear vinyl tubing that tapers
And fit into valves to channel her vapours.
And this custom made greenhouse was placed on the plant.
You can all guess what happened... well maybe you can't.

All the best people - picked by committee -
The cream of the crop, the smart and the pretty,
The wise and the worthy, awaited a whiff;
Lolling and laughing they lined up to sniff.
Not surprising, the poor, the newly downsized,
The ones not so pretty, the disenfranchised,
The ones who lacked the required essentials;
Who couldn't come up with the proper credentiels,
Didn't take well to being rejected.
They got quite upset as you might have suspected.

Serene on her stem, pure and unwilted
(If this rose had a nose it would surely have tilted
Way up in the air, she felt so superior)
She never took notice of all those inferior
Folk who were kept far away from her glass.
All the non-sniffers, the humble, the crass...

Well of course the sun's heat got caught up inside.
And the temperature rose, and the rose nearly fried.
She cried to the sun from her transparant cottage:
"Hey you! You up there, turn down your wattage!
Go shine on a glacier, I'm faint with the heat.
How dare you discomfort the cream, the elite?"

The clouds kind of snickered. (There was even some booing).
Said the sun "Little rose, I once did what you're doing.
Eons ago, I was young and I shined
On only the worthy, on just the refined.
I cut out the course, the crude and the crass,
Just like you're doing there under your glass.

I selected my subjects, but after a while,
A lot of the worthy turned out to be vile.
While some of the wretched I sentenced to night
Turned out to be far more deserving of light.
And besides, knowing where to be bright or be hazy...
All that deciding, was making me crazy.
So I gave up deciding. Now I feel fine.
You see, I'm the sun. Now I just shine.
I let my light fall on a weed or an iris,
A tree, or a flea, or a whale or a virus;
Its for those who propose to do a great task in it,
Also for those who just want to bask in it.
It comes out of me, but you see, its not mine.
It's a gift I must give. It's my business to shine.
So the lesson I learned is: give what you got;
And if you had learned it, you wouldn't be hot."
The clouds started clapping and scattered their tears
And a bird sent a chirp out for everyones' ears.
And the rose, with a blush, like a creature reborn,
Shattered the glass with a flick of her thorn.
Now she flings out her fragrance for everyones' nose
She's back in the business of being a rose.

The Rose

New Poems

From By Heart

Some Earlier Poems

Audio Recordings