What Flowers Do Gods Want?
What Flowers Do Gods Want?


Flowers are the sparkling ornaments of God
That we all offer to Him in plenty to worship
Red, yellow, pink- all petals sewed in a bead
Their beauties spread the incense soul deep
We all compete to pluck beauties from plant
Rob off her mother as if it is our right natural
We bare her to fare for rituals fearing fetish rant
But we do it against Nature’s wish perennial
There was an old lady who visited a garden every day
In the name of her morning walk, she bared every plant
She plucked those blossoming plants but not one that lay
Even the buds were not spared from her greed incessant
She used to empty the entire garden in a few second
Until she had filled his sack full to fling it in flying pride
She sat quite with a vulture’s gaze at the late visitant
When all had left, she would exit like a prince’s bride
One day a child dropped in the garden at the dawn
While she was resting on a bench after a long walk
Her eyes became sharp to spy as she looked stern
She followed his footsteps, she became tensed stark
The boy danced in joy, sang in coy to drink the wine of nature
He flew like a bird with opening arms all around the garden
Morning dew when kissed by the first ray of a shy sun lover
Twinkles to mingle with the nature to soothe bride forlornly
The old lady was behind him panting and fumbling in a fear
He might pluck her share of flowers without leaving a single
Then what she would offer to her God, Who would forebear
The wrath of God for not being able to offer even a petal
The thought was very scary as she was a devoted worshipper
Who never stopped prayer even during unwell days at home?
She remained on fast throughout day and night religious finer
All her wishes had come true in life by the almighty’s boon
The boy ran to a marigold plant with a bag with his hand
He tossed the flowers, smelled, kissed them like his doll
His eyes smiled, face thrilled by the yellow petals bent
Laughed louder in joy with a morning breeze so cool
The vulture was restless with his every touch of love
She rose like a squirrel to see if her plant was bared
Again, she became calm by seeing the little boy’s move
He picked up grounded beauties, the hanging one spared
He moved the stem like a sword for the dead ones to fall
Fallen flowers were favored by him to fill his flinging bag
Leaving the lady to ponder over his act of leaving floral
He came again in the next morn to repeat his lunatic lag
The dawn recital of fallen assembly of the lilies and roses
She bore a thought that the child could be the son the gardener
Who was sleeping and sending his son to clean drifted posies
She abhorred such cheats on workers who are a burden forever
Her thoughts were like clouds that burst to devour the beauty
Of her wisdom and wit like a mariner, that is lost in a violent sea
She was lost in her fancies of ritual greed to flaunt a halo so mighty
When eyes eclipse vision, senses dilute soul, How God could help thee
A loud shout from the main gate broke her morning slumber
She was amazed to see a driver standing beside a luxurious car
He called him repeatedly as he was in a hurry to go home earlier
The boy waved his hands to say he would collect flower faster
All her fancies vanished like the dawn drowns the darkness
She ran towards the boy to know why he gathered the fallen
He smiled, he laughed, he sighed, he giggled in jovial response
She could not know what he spoke about, felt fumbled smitten
On insistence repeated, he uttered the tenets of wisdom
That for three reasons, he liked to collect the flower that fell
“I clean the park to look beautiful for the visual delight fathom”
She took a step back on hearing old golden truth of wise people
“I don’t own this garden, so I can’t end the life of a flower,
The gardener is the real owner, who toils days and year;
His sweats water the plant in the scorching sun for its life longer.
It takes fraction to destroy an art but years to paint by nature”
Her mouth was shut by his words arrowed to her ignorant soul
“My mother offers the lying flowers to worship God’
She says that Gods do not see the flowers that are offered
The devotion of self and sanctity of soul are two offerings good”
The driver shouted at a distance to go home as they were late
Her eyes stopped blink as she stood like an abandoned corpse
Decades of her life had passed to paint black on his soul’s slate
But now she had found light to brush it with child’s wisdom sparse