BEASTLY TALES

SMELL THE ROSES

It is a good practice to stop to smell the roses.
So delectable to proboscis and noses.
In a manner of speaking, to not let life pass you by.
And suddenly finding you’re ready to die.
Getting ahead and making much money,
Is what is vitally important, not funny,
In fact rather pathetic when you think about it.
But, never-the-less, most people don’t doubt it.
That desire for that all-important image of success,
Is, in large part, why the world’s in a mess.

Anyone who is a student of history,
Would be aware that there is no mystery.
As to why these things, of necessity, are so.
Yes, why they are a vital part of life’s ebb and flow.
Way back, over eons of time,
The pursuit of shadows has been the crime.
Of course, those who manage to do so well,
Climb over the cadavers of those who dwell,
In those not so privileged classes on earth,
Who are there to be exploited, no other worth.
So, when out of joint are your noses,
Stop a while to smell those roses!

Pachyderms have a singular purpose in life.
That is to exercise control over many a wife,
And do their best in leading the herd,
Always allowing their wives to have the last word.
Left by humans, to their own devices,
Long lived they are, not given to vices.
And with their, ever so skilful, noses,
Always prepared, together, to smell the roses.

Nature stands any test of time,
Exemplary to all, so very sublime.
As each of God’s creatures pursue their course.
They work only sufficiently to supply life’s force.
And, whether or not, they have real noses,
Always prepared to stop, and smell the roses.

A gardener, of course, is in an ideal position,
To dispense with any doctor or physician,
Concentrating on a simple outdoor life,
Free from trivial competition and strife,
Absorbed within Nature’s beautiful proses.
While they do stop, to smell the roses!