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I close my eyes sometimes and smell those summery days long gone but such wonderful memories that
seem so
still remembering one such time Helen dressed a lovely summer dress walking hand In hand over the back fields behind our house
had my arm around her waist but naughty boy
slap my on wrist decided to get adventurous lowering my hand on to Helen's
all a sudden I felt what was like an electric shock on taking my hand away there was an enormous honey bee right the middle of my
I quickly brushed away and then had to remove the sting which was still pumping
It had obviously been attracted to Helen's perfume but the moral of the story don't presume to
much to
Naughty boy I was putting my hand in Helen's bottom and paid the price with a sting from huge honey bee
Gale L Mccoy Mar 17
busy busy bee
now you like it
now you're running from-
what are you running from?
their standards wallpapered
over your raw skin
why do you wear it?
you've never liked
the color yellow
you know you can't
fly through water
busy busy bee
I smell a queen bee drenched in alcohol!
Dried up and soaked into a cotton ball!
One whiff and suddenly she is my queen bee!
Now I spend my life making a spoonful of honey!
Johnny walker Jan 27
Of late I've found myself drifting back to dreams
to memories of my past to
Where I feel safe from lives harsh
And was thinking back to one of the very first times I walk out with Helen beautiful warm summers day walking the fields at the back of my
had my arm around her waist she had a very pretty summary dress on and her favourite perfume Estee Lauder Youth
feeling a bit adventures I slowly lowered my hand when I felt stinging session on quickly taking my hand away
right the middle of my palm a huge honey bee
I brushed the bee away and had returned home to remove the sting with tweezers
I learned very Important message that day don't put your hand on a lady without her permission or you to may a sting from huge honey
Valuable lesson when first walking out with my sweetheart never put your
hand a lady without seeking permission first
c Jan 8
life is not black and white
but black and yellow
and buzzing so eagerly
in my ear

love stings
but i loved
the taste of honey
that lingered on your lips
Poetic T Jan 3
Within every motion is a consequence,
     for with wings there is motion.
Disturbing the flow of the world around it.

For with a sting there is but one consequence,
              a flutter of tasteful demise for oneself.
The pain on the other is fleeting,
                   for life was about on point.

But when a thousand wings flutter,
                       they move more than mountains.
for a breath when made by the many can influence
                        more than just a point made in anger.
A humble bumble bee
By the name of Timothy
Flies friskily through the trees
And sways smoothly with the breeze
For the wisping winds of winter
Are coming in a beat
So he must flee to be free
From the cold or he might freeze
So he flies to someplace warm
To a garden by the sea
Where a humble bumble bee
Can go to be a bee
Just a fun poem I wrote.
Riley Cartwright Dec 2018
I’m tired. I need to get out. This feeling drives me insane. It makes me tap. It makes me tap. It makes me...Useless. My worries follow me as I travel to the next exit from this reality. I could get out. See the world. Feel the grass. Smell the flowers. Stop and smell the flowers. Stop and smell the flowers.I miss the flowers. The gold I once bartered off of to the locals for a living. What keeps me going. What keeps me breathing. What keeps me on my feet.
The air is crisp. It smells of artificial pine and truckstop pretzels. It once smelt of maple and marigolds.
Suburbs. Cities. Countrysides. I miss it. I miss home. There are walls, but not organized. And there are no exits. No cells. I was a laborer turned prisoner when six walls became four.
Tap… Tap… Buzz…
Tap… Tap… Buzz…
These aren’t the familiar vibrations I know. These are the walls failing to keep me confined. I can get out. I can return home.
Thank you kind stranger for unrolling your car window.
Star BG Dec 2018
Thee, be a flower
dipped in honey,
the finest grade.
And I honey bee
dost fly about
showering you with love.

I buzz in sweet whispers.
Glide, with admiration.
Flutter, as wings balance
in rhythms of heartbeats.

Yes thee be the flower,
and I the bee.
Moving in graceful union
married under canopy of sky.
dedicated to all those inside the relationship of love
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