Thursday, May 8, 2025

Why Is A Rose A Rose? comical poem 569 by Angela Lansbury

An orange rose by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.
 

Why is a new rose born to be

A white rose, not an apple tree?

I don't suppose a small rose knows

It'll be a rose, not be me


I wonder why I'm not a rose

I've asked around, nobody knows

I'm sure rose likes to be a rose

I'm not free, but glad to be me


A white rose has no choice, it's white

It doesn't fight, it does what's right

The pinks are pink, the reds are red

Then when they're dead they're brown instead


When a child, I did not suspect

That one day people could change sex

And also, those who could change, would

And thought that it would do them good


Maybe one day, nobody knows

Both you and I could be a rose

And a rose could be you, or me

What next?Who knows? What'll be will be.


Maybe a rose will have a choice

And we'll give each new rose a voice

To be red, blue, black or yellow

Change to match it's near bed fellow


Maybe a rose will choose to be

A car, an elephant or star

That's too complicated for me

I think I like things as they are.


It's great to give sight to the blind

Let them be surprised by photos

But when I paint, or plant a rose

I don't want it to change its mind


To turn into a cauliflower

Or change its mind every hour

That would give the creator tears

So evolution takes us years.


Why is a new rose born to be

A white rose, not an apple tree?

I know but no little rose knows

I'm smart, you see, I'm glad I'm me


I'm glad that you have stuck with me

You learn a lot from poetry.

-ends-

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