I remember the weeds

as if frozen in time

firelight dancing

arcs on our cheeks

we couldn’t color

tomorrow

but swallowed whole

the time we had

indifferent

to what lay ahead

and savored the now

cushioned by

dandelion blooms

bobbing their heads

yellow dreams

reflected

on our chins.

We dismiss weeds because they are ugly. But does anyone really know what they've been through. Can you weather the storms and the abuse that these weeds have faced? I didn't think so. After all, I don't think many of us have taken the time to actually look at weeds and the way they have bbe crafted. What's that expression again? Something about time? Oh, yeah. Take time to stop and smell the roses. The ROSES. What happened to the weeds? Why is there no saying that goes take time to appreciate the weeds? The weeds are, much as we loathe to admit it, the backbone of the flower community. Without these weeds that are dismissed because of their nonexistant beauty, we would not have a frame of reference for which flowers were truly beautiful. Case and point.

It's a weed, she said.

the pretty little yellow flower.

becuase her mommy told her

and my mommy told me

but I made a bouquet

and stuck them in a vase

on my bedroom windowsill.

I cried when they died -

when the lawnmower or time

chopped off their golden heads.

then I went to go pick more,

becuase I loved them.

I threaded the stems

into a crown on my hair.

and my swingset was my castle

and my backyard was my empire

and the gardens were my slaves:

I never envied those petals

groomed in careful dirt; no,

I was the queen of the weeds.

Dear Lawn Lover,

Thanks for nothing.

Just because I may look out of place amongst your cherished fescue doesn't mean I have no right to life. Have you ever stopped to think that I am a living organism just like you? Yes. I. Am. Life. Life with value and purpose; my value and purpose obviously unknown and or of no use to you. You humans have laws about murder; often punishable by death. What do I, the ordinary run of the mill weed have, besides my own Herculean roots to protect me from death?

You get down on your knees. I've seen you. You just rip my kind from life, throwing my kindred into a plastic bag making sure any life left in them is snuffed. Worse yet, you spray or spead with some unpronounceable poison to choke the life out of us. SERIOUSLY?!

Consider this Smartie Mcsmartie pants....What you spray on us penetrates the soil, and even if it doesn't get absorbed into the aquifer, which we all know it does, it's absorbed into the air and recycled through rain and fog. Did you know when you ran out to the mailbox in the rain that what you put on us the day before sprinkled right back at ya? No you didn't, did you Einstein. If I sound pissed, it's because I am. If we did to you what you do to us how would you like it? Huh?

So, the next time you run on down to Home Depot and plunk down $29.95 on a deluxe bag of your whatever brand of weed and feed, why don't you just open the bag, and before you put some into your garden spreader, shove some up your nose, rub some on your body and shake some on your food. Ha! You can bet your bottom dollar you're already doing that with every application to your lawn. Will you connect the dots when that unexplained illness comes for you? Touche!

Sincerely,

I am Weed and,

Proud of my roots

P. S. You may have gotten most of my kindred with your last application, but you missed me again! I'm just biding my time and spreading my seeds! BOOYAH!

Hello there little clover. I see you there sprouting up in the sidewalk. You're such a precious little thing. I know you mean no harm to anyone else. All you want to do is bloom while others hold you back and rip you up. It just isn't fair.

And good day to you petite daisy. You're so adorable. I saw the gardner try to kill your friends off in another yard. I don't understand why he does that. I have seen you bring joys to many little children who wander this neighborhood.

Hola dandelion. How have you been? I hope the gardener doesn't try to rip you up either. I have seen the little girls who live near by come to blow on you so you can bloom elsewhere. The gardener has different intentions. He wants to kill the beauty you bring into the world. He doesn't understand that all you want to do is grow a little more and live to see the next beautiful day. You have so much ahead of you in life. You have to bring a little happiness to someones' glum day. Little puppies have to roll around and sniff you.

Weeds: they bring happiness to places we don't expect. Don't rip the beauty out just to make a yard look "nice". You know what looks nices: nature. Weeds are nature. Weeds are life, and life is beautiful.

People so often disregard the importance of weeds, failing to realize how parallel our existence has become. It's quite an anomaly to find someone who depicts themselves as a fully bloomed flower that has the apparent ability to remain and last as exuberant as the Rose in Beauty and the Beast. If you were to pick yourself out in a garden, you might consider yourself to be a dandelion.

When we were kids, we would pull them out from the ground with our dainty hands. Our sweat would cause the dandelions to turn our fingers yellow, and that would somehow give us a sense of pride and accomplishment. We would blow on dandelions and make a million wishes like a daytime star. When we were kids, we didn't immediately dismiss these mediocre weeds as so, but we considered them flowers. In our innocence we were happy.

Now, when we look in the mirror, we search for our flaws that have been sung out of other peoples' mouths. We see ourselves as weeds because we are not accustomed to being claimed as a delicate flower in which all may be different, while none are seen as anything less than perfect. We hypocritically judge and define other people as weeds, while we wish ourselves to be flowers. Maybe, just maybe, we really are just different flowers, and if so, I see no reason why weeds can't be either.

Perhaps God is the Write

with which we are not

to fall in Love...

the rough draft,

the first cut;

How convenient! that

we should forget

the Garden of Eden

needs pruning even!

So why not Us? and

Why not God?!

The Gardner is testing

the soil and the season

in scattering of seeds

that we in our very

satirical humor

have termed weeds

while picking flowers

with caprice that

we chose to call 

Rhyme... and Reason.

#InDefenseOfWeeds #Challenge

I serve a purpose in your lawn.

Yes I am a weed but I am beautiful to see.

A white puffball that you wish upon in a moment of glee.

I am not annoying, I am full of use.

I am a benefical herb, please do not disturb.

I am full of vitamins A, B complex, C and D.

I have Iron, Potassium and Zinc.

Eat me to relieve your common cold.

I stimulate digestion and cure your warts.

If you have PMS I am your herb.

Please dont kill me, my name is French.

My name means "teeth of lions", do not clench.

Yellow creeping,

devouring roads,

lion's heads

invading spaces

they don't belong,

unliked, unwanted.

Rays of sunlight

bursting from the earth,

white plumes

granting wishes,

sending love,

adored, anticipated.