"apiary" poems - Hello Poetry

was an aperitif to an aphorism, an apothecary of aphrodisiacs, an apiary of my ever-buzzing thoughts. She slipped streamline as maraschinos into a Manhattan, that strike of sugar staining the most bitter days a color no chemical dispels. She was an enigmatic row of beakers shelved in an ancient pharmacy at the base of the Janiculum. Her shape was incense wisps, her touch a song sung in 1940s noir, her locking gaze acrophobia itself. Alliteration ran thick through her blood, she painted like Debussy composed. No single organism in the universe could’ve imposed anything on her – well, maybe. Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that I’m a boy – no air of denigration here. She was intricate, but altogether simple. Empathetic-yet- tangible, her character was incredible. It was not the beauty of her face, the body that held her mind and laughter, not the dazed sting in my hand as it cupped in hers – it was her autotelic way and her hope. And now her imaginings hang, framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left; retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.

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Jul 4, 2012

Jul 4, 2012 at 7:59 AM UTC

christopher-howard-gorrie

She

was an aperitif to an aphorism, an apothecary of aphrodisiacs, an apiary of my ever-buzzing thoughts. She slipped streamline as maraschinos into a Manhattan, that strike of sugar staining the most bitter days a color no chemical dispels. She was an enigmatic row of beakers shelved in an ancient pharmacy at the base of the Janiculum. Her shape was incense wisps, her touch a song sung in 1940s noir, her locking gaze acrophobia itself. Alliteration ran thick through her blood, she painted like Debussy composed. No single organism in the universe could’ve imposed anything on her – well, maybe. Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that I’m a boy – no air of denigration here. She was intricate, but altogether simple. Empathetic-yet- tangible, her character was incredible. It was not the beauty of her face, the body that held her mind and laughter, not the dazed sting in my hand as it cupped in hers – it was her autotelic way and her hope. And now her imaginings hang, framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left; retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.

27

Sleeping has cost me Dreams about Birds Exotic and Pretty Colorful and dead Brain, why? The first night I spoke to the abandoned left behind by ****** owners because they live more full lives than humans could ever dream Big and Fluffy Beautiful creatures The second night I lived among them In an apiary of my own their light, hearty songs Ringing in my ears Then I woke to that outside my window The third night I felt stressed My small bird grey with colorful wings kept flying away I wanted it in it's cage I wanted to play with it, too He kept losing his feathers, balding And finally, he died in my hands Limp The fourth night I don't sleep well The fifth night I sleep worse I don't retain those nights' dreams Brain, why?

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Feb 6, 2013

Feb 6, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC

toni-seychelle

Dreams about birds

Sleeping has cost me Dreams about Birds Exotic and Pretty Colorful and dead Brain, why? The first night I spoke to the abandoned left behind by ****** owners because they live more full lives than humans could ever dream Big and Fluffy Beautiful creatures The second night I lived among them In an apiary of my own their light, hearty songs Ringing in my ears Then I woke to that outside my window The third night I felt stressed My small bird grey with colorful wings kept flying away I wanted it in it's cage I wanted to play with it, too He kept losing his feathers, balding And finally, he died in my hands Limp The fourth night I don't sleep well The fifth night I sleep worse I don't retain those nights' dreams Brain, why?

36

water drips steadily into the black sink there is no warmth here some breathing relic of a bygone era speaks lively volumes on death; rigor mortis racks the bodies of intent listeners there is honey and dirt on his breath he has been in the apiary round eyeglasses grow brittle and their lenses blurry, closing the window of his soul to a loving corpse who cannot smell the dirt on his breath honey and cologne where has he been? water drips steadily into the black sink he touches her arm; fleeting warmth, bitter cold, here again

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Nov 28, 2017

Nov 28, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC

featherlight

victor

water drips steadily into the black sink there is no warmth here some breathing relic of a bygone era speaks lively volumes on death; rigor mortis racks the bodies of intent listeners there is honey and dirt on his breath he has been in the apiary round eyeglasses grow brittle and their lenses blurry, closing the window of his soul to a loving corpse who cannot smell the dirt on his breath honey and cologne where has he been? water drips steadily into the black sink he touches her arm; fleeting warmth, bitter cold, here again

14

I zip up my astronaut suit, plop the cubed veil onto my head. In my hat, I am the observer Living behind the netted television. Dressed for pain avoidance. No tears. (Perhaps I should wear this out on dates) A tall metal teapot with its accordion attachment rests, on guard, in my yellow stained gloves. Together, we enter the boxed colony The teapot’s steam spurts clusters of buzzers into the air— I grab coarse honeycombs, drain the visions of nectar. When the day is over, I gather the jars, amber sucrose, the pee-colored concoctions, to head inside. In the kitchen, the timer aches to sing as the clouds From the pumpkin loaves clog the room. I hold my honey and I store my bread.

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Dec 25, 2013

Dec 25, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC

melanie-r-holmes

Enter the Apiary

I zip up my astronaut suit, plop the cubed veil onto my head. In my hat, I am the observer Living behind the netted television. Dressed for pain avoidance. No tears. (Perhaps I should wear this out on dates) A tall metal teapot with its accordion attachment rests, on guard, in my yellow stained gloves. Together, we enter the boxed colony The teapot’s steam spurts clusters of buzzers into the air— I grab coarse honeycombs, drain the visions of nectar. When the day is over, I gather the jars, amber sucrose, the pee-colored concoctions, to head inside. In the kitchen, the timer aches to sing as the clouds From the pumpkin loaves clog the room. I hold my honey and I store my bread.

17

It’s probably not that you were awesome (but you were) It’s probably not that it was worth it (but it was) It’s not even that you deserved it (but you did) It’s that your words became an apiary And all my bees built honeycombs with the curves of your face Now your words no longer come nor does your smile grace me The sweet honey has drained into the jars of my heart And I’ve tried to forget you but the syrup on my tongue remembers you it puddles into the hexagons of your name whispering like bees wings I strengthen myself with sugar and beeswax feeds my flame that I harvested on a day my feelings decided to dance around you like bees they nestled in your flowers How long will I eat of your honey? How long will your sweetness remain in my memory?

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Apr 15, 2019

Apr 15, 2019 at 10:50 PM UTC

eva-schoolcraft

The taste of Wildflower

It’s probably not that you were awesome (but you were) It’s probably not that it was worth it (but it was) It’s not even that you deserved it (but you did) It’s that your words became an apiary And all my bees built honeycombs with the curves of your face Now your words no longer come nor does your smile grace me The sweet honey has drained into the jars of my heart And I’ve tried to forget you but the syrup on my tongue remembers you it puddles into the hexagons of your name whispering like bees wings I strengthen myself with sugar and beeswax feeds my flame that I harvested on a day my feelings decided to dance around you like bees they nestled in your flowers How long will I eat of your honey? How long will your sweetness remain in my memory?

21

Was an aperitif to an aphorism, An architect of aphrodisia, An apiary of my ever-buzzing thought. She slipped into me streamline: Maraschinos Into a Manhattan. Oh strike of sugar, Stain the bitterest days a red no chemical dispels. She was a cryptic gallipot Shelved in an apothecary At the Caelian's base. Her shape was incense wisps, her touch A song sung in 1940s noir, her locking gaze Eros himself. Alliteration ran thick through the blood. The paintings? Like Debussy composed. Nothing in the universe could’ve imposed Anything on her!— Quit it, you idiot... The admiration, the visions that adorn her: Subjectively supernatural— Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that you're a boy— No air of denigration. She was intricate, but altogether simple. I encountered her in stifled confessions. It was not the beauty of her face, the body That held her mind and laughter, not the dazed sting In my hand as it cupped in hers— It was her autotelism and her hope. And now her imaginings hang, Framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left; Retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.

0

Jul 1, 2014

Jul 1, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC

christopher-howard-gorrie

She (Revisited)

Was an aperitif to an aphorism, An architect of aphrodisia, An apiary of my ever-buzzing thought. She slipped into me streamline: Maraschinos Into a Manhattan. Oh strike of sugar, Stain the bitterest days a red no chemical dispels. She was a cryptic gallipot Shelved in an apothecary At the Caelian's base. Her shape was incense wisps, her touch A song sung in 1940s noir, her locking gaze Eros himself. Alliteration ran thick through the blood. The paintings? Like Debussy composed. Nothing in the universe could’ve imposed Anything on her!— Quit it, you idiot... The admiration, the visions that adorn her: Subjectively supernatural— Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that you're a boy— No air of denigration. She was intricate, but altogether simple. I encountered her in stifled confessions. It was not the beauty of her face, the body That held her mind and laughter, not the dazed sting In my hand as it cupped in hers— It was her autotelism and her hope. And now her imaginings hang, Framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left; Retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.

29

In the house of death the old ones chant strange couplets & mysterious narratives- that like the tumble-weeds wisp through the picket fence.... & flows, sweeping down the dark byways & pathways..... echoing out over the empty lawns- they hold sway, beckoning otherworldly beings. & on the porch my girlfriend sits swinging on the lover’s seat with her long glimmering hair radiant more luminous than fireflies a glorious raiment- & as she swings the floorboards creak their own riddle. A unicorn from the world next-door prances up the gravel road..... & places his soft enigmatic head upon her lap... & as she strokes the snow-white curls of his mane. carresing his horn with her long fingers. The unicorn closes his eyes & falls asleep- Trusting in their affinity........ The elms & chestnuts sing as the stars & moon skinny-dip. In the throats of their branches the limbs of the trees begin to leaf.... Surly the world is coming to an end..... As the huntresses pull up in the driveway in their pickup trucks. Humming with their sharp spears: “so many unicorns from the world next door are eating up the antique roses of civilization in the flower beds of providence Unicorns are emptying our dying fountains.”. They whisper through the spaces of their teeth.... & as the sky unfolds with alien constellations. the brook behind the house cries itself bitter- the bulrushes & the tangleberies, the rumpleleworte & rhubarb wither next to the apiary of treachery & then our the fountains die.....

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Jun 26, 2014

Jun 26, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC

andrew-rymill

A Unicorn From The World Next-door

In the house of death the old ones chant strange couplets & mysterious narratives- that like the tumble-weeds wisp through the picket fence.... & flows, sweeping down the dark byways & pathways..... echoing out over the empty lawns- they hold sway, beckoning otherworldly beings. & on the porch my girlfriend sits swinging on the lover’s seat with her long glimmering hair radiant more luminous than fireflies a glorious raiment- & as she swings the floorboards creak their own riddle. A unicorn from the world next-door prances up the gravel road..... & places his soft enigmatic head upon her lap... & as she strokes the snow-white curls of his mane. carresing his horn with her long fingers. The unicorn closes his eyes & falls asleep- Trusting in their affinity........ The elms & chestnuts sing as the stars & moon skinny-dip. In the throats of their branches the limbs of the trees begin to leaf.... Surly the world is coming to an end..... As the huntresses pull up in the driveway in their pickup trucks. Humming with their sharp spears: “so many unicorns from the world next door are eating up the antique roses of civilization in the flower beds of providence Unicorns are emptying our dying fountains.”. They whisper through the spaces of their teeth.... & as the sky unfolds with alien constellations. the brook behind the house cries itself bitter- the bulrushes & the tangleberies, the rumpleleworte & rhubarb wither next to the apiary of treachery & then our the fountains die.....

36

My apiary buzzes. On the breeze, nectar is wafting Like an elegant perfume no money could buy. They are as tendrils of the same vine, A symbiotic call and response. Their mission lofty . . . Life

0

Apr 25, 2015

Apr 25, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC

sherlene2

Enticing

My apiary buzzes. On the breeze, nectar is wafting Like an elegant perfume no money could buy. They are as tendrils of the same vine, A symbiotic call and response. Their mission lofty . . . Life

6

Love is a strong emotion That can be recognize by those with ambitions Despite of the greatest promotion. And it is a peaceful war That can be fought by those with star In the strong tunnel of misery Love seems to stand at the entry And create an empty vacuum Which gives rise to narrow two doors Between the fallacy interpretations One claims to be love, While the other embrace hatred In collective joy, hatred endows apiary That excavates the thoughts Of the victim in doubts Incumbent authorized in fallacy All works strongly to achieve void In accordance with the mind, The love forces of the alimentary Is left out for the primary to digest in great wallow. While hatred desolate in the boulevard of isolate Solitude is filled with a great agitation with the aim to stop the mutation but all was rendered impotence in the anxiety to achieve all pleasures The mystery in love can be understood by the competitors who bang within the exacerbation irrespective of the condition Nevertheless, love have fate, but the salary of love is Hate which its extravangancy is filled with vacancy. In sincerity love blinds knowledge And indemnifies the hedge By Chidubem Gerald For Inquires: e-mail, [email protected]

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC

umezulike-chidubem-gerald

THE INDISPENSIBLE CONDITIONS OF LOVE

Love is a strong emotion That can be recognize by those with ambitions Despite of the greatest promotion. And it is a peaceful war That can be fought by those with star In the strong tunnel of misery Love seems to stand at the entry And create an empty vacuum Which gives rise to narrow two doors Between the fallacy interpretations One claims to be love, While the other embrace hatred In collective joy, hatred endows apiary That excavates the thoughts Of the victim in doubts Incumbent authorized in fallacy All works strongly to achieve void In accordance with the mind, The love forces of the alimentary Is left out for the primary to digest in great wallow. While hatred desolate in the boulevard of isolate Solitude is filled with a great agitation with the aim to stop the mutation but all was rendered impotence in the anxiety to achieve all pleasures The mystery in love can be understood by the competitors who bang within the exacerbation irrespective of the condition Nevertheless, love have fate, but the salary of love is Hate which its extravangancy is filled with vacancy. In sincerity love blinds knowledge And indemnifies the hedge By Chidubem Gerald For Inquires: e-mail, [email protected]

39

Besotted winged pollinators roistering barrage drowned amidst general insectivorous cacophony indistinct auditory signals communicated intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance midwifed edenic floral pullulation sensate admixture viz colored spectrum amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous orchestral suite bedded lambs amorous ewe man like bleating songs nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating profuse living color rainbow pastiche teeming soundgarden smorgasbord cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath visual vistas stilling spellbinding spilling riotous carpeted web uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism despite unanswered queries asper diverse modalities each specie evolved to survive despite countervailing destructive forces generating plethora pandemonium ironically promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks becoming monocultural setting virtual stage catastrophe plus food shortage would become global debacle predicated, sans virulent viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl already widely compromised more so since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring **** sapiens population explosion pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth ***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking mother nature, who will unwittingly spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage forcing capitulation or total extinction meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence a composite having sessile flowers apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.

0

May 27, 2018

May 27, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Like Daisies On Stalks

Besotted winged pollinators roistering barrage drowned amidst general insectivorous cacophony indistinct auditory signals communicated intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance midwifed edenic floral pullulation sensate admixture viz colored spectrum amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous orchestral suite bedded lambs amorous ewe man like bleating songs nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating profuse living color rainbow pastiche teeming soundgarden smorgasbord cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath visual vistas stilling spellbinding spilling riotous carpeted web uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism despite unanswered queries asper diverse modalities each specie evolved to survive despite countervailing destructive forces generating plethora pandemonium ironically promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks becoming monocultural setting virtual stage catastrophe plus food shortage would become global debacle predicated, sans virulent viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl already widely compromised more so since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring **** sapiens population explosion pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth ***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking mother nature, who will unwittingly spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage forcing capitulation or total extinction meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence a composite having sessile flowers apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.

48