"bumblebee" poems
The billowing sea
bows down dancing,
the cool one comes—
with love,
as if with a flute on the lips,
rising from the deep.
Listen to the flute.
Chorus clouds sing,
drifting down the blue river—
so mellifluous, into the sky they soar!
From the secret valley,
the punter sun ambles in,
carrying wonderlight,
as if it knows the flutist’s art—
knows the rise from the sea’s bedrock.
Every planet spins—
a flying bee drawn to the inner music.
Nothing pauses in the solar ring.
The Moon, waning and waxing,
in silhouette and half-light,
sways above the sea full of life.
It all began on this Earth, from our sea—
Him, the Sweet Creative Maestro rose from the midst,
and lifted the sun, the bumblebee.
All the stars in the galaxy
follow still—
they can't forget the ancient story.
Since then,
the sun, brightest in the band,
leads the mindful dance
enduring, homeward—
still following
the haunting, eternal tune, pure mighty
the one command: Qun. Be.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities
A brown thin thorn
As sharp as a knife
That hurt everything its comes into contact with
But seems to beg for forgiveness from its victims
A rose with petals so bright
Shining their color into the world
That screams for attention
Yet seems to hide from plain sight
A long thin stem
As weak as a piece of paper
That somehow holds up the great rose
But seems to strengthen with each wind blow
A bright green fuzzy leaf
Feeble and soft
That cries for attention from the rose
Yet seems to fade into the background
A single flower root
Dark Brown and thin as a piece of string
That reaches into the earth grasping for a stronghold
Yet seems to fail in comparison to the large, strong roots
A yellow and black bumblebee buzzing along
Happy-go-lucky and unaware of the looming storm
That longs to pollenate the rose
Yet seems to die more with each passing moment
Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities
Yet grave differences
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
sting sting
my body sings
My father told me
tried and sold me
the sting in a bumble bee's
wings
**** me **** me
my body thrashed
i find and eat the sugary nectar
in the ice cream
in the trash
**** me **** me
my father lied
there's no flying
with bumble bee wings
trust me, i tried
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
a cerebral grasping of existence’s resplendence
is insufficient
tenuously treading bereavement’s tide
i cradle life
twinkling moments spent on this planet
are hallowed time
i walk in quiet reverence as tears flow
at innocuous occurrences
god’s face aglow in each instance
perspective revived
a bumblebee drifting gently settles
evoking awe
i stand pensive aforetime unaware
in cathedrals we stand
eyes newly uncovered awakened discover
celestial dimensions
people replete with infinite spirit
are all that surround
my senses abruptly adjusting their focus
‘tis an earthly angelic realm
©2016janetaylor
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
What do you see
When the flower meets your eye,
What beauty must hide
In visceral Versailles,
In cherry tree reality...
Does it mystify?
The variegated countryside
Does the chorus nullify
The diversified into harmony
What melodic elegance underlies
That subjective divide
Wistful of waves you fly
What do you see in the cherry tree sky
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
Umi the bumblebee flies sometimes against a tree
You might not see but you are great
So keep your head high my mate
Umi the bumblebee buzzes around full of glee,
Don't worry I will not sting
I am just being fluffy
Though this bee might also be very cuddly
And mostly silly
Umi the bumblebee likes to see people happy
Full of light she flies under the sun,
Buzzing a song and having fun
From flower to flower, each a delight,
Forming a beautiful field, a wonderous sight
Please don't sneeze while I pollinate
Such would be very great !
Umi the bumblebee buzzes around and hits a tree
This is it she can't do more
Now she is sleepy and goes to bed
Till the red of the dawn awakens her and she once again lifts up her head!
~ Umi
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Six months on, and hundreds of offspring later,
She is much too languid to even move.
The listless queen bee is stung repeatedly;
Her own children have seemingly turned on her.
Once good and dead she is tossed from the nest.
Merciless? Or mercy killing?
I will leave you to decide.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
Here the ringing in my ear,
The distant hum of doom,
I know to avoid the stinging tail,
Of the bumblebee buzz flying in to view.
Eat the honey of the evil bug,
Who bringeth tastes divine to all,
Why must I fear the faint noise?
That surely brings only joy.
A sting it will not give,
For with its evil comes certain death,
A punishment severe,
For a cherished bumblebee dear.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
The song birds call to me
To go and catch the bumblebee.
For she is loving,
She is kind,
She is the one who speaks her mind.
She is funny,
She is smart,
She sees life through her heart.
The bumblebee has no need to act cool,
Because her beauty and heart make me her fool
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 6:12 PM UTC
Like a bumblebee
She dreams of nature
Of fields full of flowers
Of life trickling sweetness
She’ll travel the world
With buzzing excitement
With gold dripping wings
And a love hungry soul
She’ll go with the winds
Dance her way over mountains
Scoping lands for enchantment
Moving hearts with her spirit
And like a bumblebee
She finds peace in the journey
In flying passion painted miles
But never forgetting her way home
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
This is the night of the distant circles.
Tonight the gulls are in meditation.
Senora, tonight, I find your tracks
disappearing on the shores,
though the tide is afar.
I saw you, draped in a garment of colours, and
adorned of the golden dot on your forehead
vanish at the horizon.
In the morning when you
emerged fresh from the shower of mists
with your clouden hair still wet,
I was the wheezing breeze flying West.
I was the bumblebees returning to roost.
Now I am conversing with the echoes.
I want to decipher the language of the waves
whispering to the stars.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
Let us go, Oedipus, let me walk you
'Twixt towers reaching to heaven,
Where women are charged to be patient and perfect.
You will not stay upon your leash.
We walk through Mandalay, not Paris,
Where the women have no face.
'Tis but a siren of emergency
That sings to me.
What worth I am to you, Oedipus,
What worth am I to them?
When the footman holds my coat, and snickers,
What worth am I to them?
Every man is a piece of the continent!
She may love me for the dangers I have passed,
And I her that she did pity them,
But she cannot, now and forever.
And while the sun excludes me,
I am not them and they not I,
And the waters do not glisten,
She is their chattel and not mine.
I gaze upon her ornate face and sing,
Her eyes are pools of wonder that see me, and swing away.
I am older, I have sense,
Like Oedipus my King,
But when I see her ornate face
I very nearly sing.
After many lonely nights
In shirtsleeves and not silk,
I went to her, and said:
Here, take this silver, for my milk.
And she may have loved me once
But for my thought and sense,
I'm but a bumblebee today -
I left at some expense.
Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 6:04 AM UTC
Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
give me flowers, give me trees
give me a little lovely tease
Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
love me a little, love me a lot
give me a kiss right on the spot
Lovely little bumblebee
what would I do without thee
for you are what makes me smile
for a million times a mile
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
I have thoughts that capture me, enrapture me,
That scare me so shitless I just close my eyes,
Hiding from them like they are a buzzing squad of bees.
They buzz in my ears and in my brain,
Up my nose and in my veins.
Thoughtless karma, quick and cool,
Teach me to act with such self-assured judgment.
Burn my bone marrow, burn my brain,
These memories of you drive me insane.
These whirling twirling thoughts of you are inane,
For the you I miss is no longer alive.
I’ll smoke and create my own brain hive,
Hiding from all these bees.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
a happy little bumblebee, flew smiling to and fro
the gardener who never quit, he made the flowers grow
his work impressed his happiness, the harder that he tried
he was the best until one day, he stung a squirrel and died
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
In the dazzling sun
The delicate scent of a jasmine
Bewilders bumblebee.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
a twig snaps beneath my shoe,
the sudden sound shattering the calm atmosphere.
sunlight dapples over my skin,
rippling across my clothes,
pooling in my cupped hands
as if i were holding it.
delicate leaves rustle overhead,
my attention to the emerald glow above only broken
by the hum of a bumblebee
buzzing its way to yet another flower.
trees, seemingly protective,
surround me,
their trunks a shelter for such a variety of creatures.
sweet birdsong echoes above.
a woodpecker taps a home somewhere to my left.
a chipmunk skitters across my path
and into the still ferns,
causing them to shudder.
the scent of soil, of leaves, of nature, floods me.
i wonder about the world,
about the mountains and about the sea.
about my friends, my family,
about strangers with lives
just as complex and unknowing as my own.
i ponder myself, my life,
where will i go?
what will i do?
will it all be worth it?
-l.s.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
i have a wonderful friend
who darts about in the sky
her little wings kiss the breeze
she must be a butterfly
oh james you got it wrong
silly foolish rhyming me
she’s certainly not one of them
my friend is a bumblebee
they tried to put her in a jar
oh it was a terrible place
but she’s just about to escape
headed out to outer space
ah but they can’t hold her back
she’ll be leaving really soon
the first bio-molecular geneticist
astrophysicist on the moon
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
It is not the bumblebee, that goes
unloved or unprivileged.
It is the sad circumstances of of his flower brethren
That congests his mind with remnants of
Regret and despair,
Brought on by a chain reaction of
Sympathy and compassion.
Do the flowers comprehend
The plight of the humble bumblebee?
He who flies in his aura of sincere concern,
For those who he calls friends.
Certainly not,
For they question the pain his eyes have seen,
But certainly not
From which it originates.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
What did you say to me?
How did you say to be?
Scent of the flowers sweet,
I fell off the path; the beat.
Metamorphoses buzzing creep.
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
Nectar pollen and wiggle-dance,
Tear off the shirt and pants,
Without it I’m incomplete,
Rotting in self-defeat,
Awashed in a wild sea,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
Buzzin’ so high and flyin’
Honeycomb drunken Mayan,
Falling west, rising east,
The party will not surcease,
While I am the Bumble-beast!
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee
The flight it takes off and from,
As flowers of life become,
Praying up to the Sun,
What am I imagining? (image-gen-nun)
August vino de lum
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee,
Bumblebee, Bumblebee
I am the Bumblebee
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
In a tiny bitter lemon tree
there sat an orange, quite obese,
dreaming an ice-cream-reverie:
I would like a scoop of rasperry…
„That cheeky orange“, spoke the lemon tree,
tries to spoil our yellow purity!
Where upon the orange blushed.
„Now you look like a strawberry“
laughed a bumblebee
licking ice-cream happily.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
In my backyard, the deep sauce
of sun-gold air swivels lazily,
stirred by the occasional bumblebee.
I’m entertained by the idea of anything beyond this.
No continents, no glitter-splashed ocean.
The softened world settles into itself,
transforming from its usual busyness.
Squash lounges in the garden and
preschool train operators maneuver Thomas
through his wooden kingdom.
They move trees and buildings around their set and we,
still fascinated with the cucumber in the garden,
don’t look up from skimming our fingers through grass,
changing our own soil kingdoms with the sweep of a hand.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
I am the flower that loves the bumblebee.
As he flits and flips and fluts between the daffodil-darlings,
flirting with the puckered tulip's twins,
dancing and dipping and diving between
the outstretched limbs of the persimmons.
I am the flower that loves the bumblebee.
Anticipating that moment when I am to be envied,
Patiently waiting to be loved at my turn,
before he is gone and on to another,
leaving me alone and hoping for his return.
I am the flower that loves the bumblebee.
Hopelessly devoted to a free-flying spirit,
whilst helplessly grounded amongst many
perhaps prettier,
perhaps,
but equally doomed to share him for eternity.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 10:30 AM UTC
dark blue spring sky
sitting high above my head
yet i can barely remember how
yellow the slide was where
id watch my parents sit and smoke
as my youth would flash down
into the dirt
watering the grass became a sport
less a chore
as bumblebees would spring out
of the blades only to
be shot down by a rush of
water
cut up knees and cigarette burns
erected a time of what i thought
could be but definitely was not
total bliss
i still feel the very pain
of falling face first into
the gravel
only to grovel at the
streams of blood and dirt
flowing from my very body
thats it, my 6 year old self thought,
im dirt
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC