
Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.
quote by James Russell Lowell

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bees
Bees are messengers from up above:
Filled with goodness and with love.
Unlike wasps, they mean us no harm:
They are more friendly and have charm.
On fine, silvery wings, the bees take flight,
When the sun's warm rays are shining bright.
They collect up the pollen in their sacs,
Then, to their hives, they take it back.
They carry out their duties with a smile;
Their souls full of cheer all the while.
With keenness, they carry out their work;
Their responsibilities, they do not shirk.
Bees have such an important role to play:
We would be doomed if they died away.
Plants and flowers would cease to grow,
And supplies of foodstuffs would soon be low.
Of bees, there is no need for us to be scared;
About their work, they passionately do care.
If we leave these dedicated workers well alone,
Near to us humans, they will not dare to roam.
They will not sting us, unless they're provoked,
For them, using their sting is certainly no joke.
If a bee ever stings you, you may well cry,
But the poor old bee, well, it would then die.
Unlike wasps, bees are not considered pests,
Even though they are very similarly dressed.
Bees are really fabulous, bees are really brill:
A bee, you should never ever, on purpose, kill.
poem by Angela Wybrow

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Beautiful Bees
Bees be a buzzin a buzzin be the bee
but the only problem is there not buzzin in the fields.
Greed is the seed, the seed of which is greed
We've hurt the bees to meet our needs and treated them unfairly.
Money is the honey and the honey is the money.
They are slowly disappearing from all our interfering.
Stalling with the Pollen, the pollen that is stalling.
Please stop the pesticides and let it rest awhile.
Bees keep on buzzin, Keep on buzzin bees.
We need them for our future to build our family trees.
poem by Aine Carroll

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Sulking Flowers
Comparing the bees to the wandering males of human species,
Disheartening the waiting souls at the threshold of floral genesis,
For the pollen these bees brought unknowingly,
The generous flowers tip the nectar unconditionally.
Bees are the messengers, not the rapists as human,
Bees are the servants, not the incest driven as human,
Bees are the courier carriers, not the molesters as human,
Bees are innocent, not the illusionists scoundrels as human.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

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We Used To Carry Books To School
We used to carry books to school
But now they carry guns
Are bullets now the tool
For schoolwork to be done?
We used to carry books to school
Went there for education
But now some kids may think it cool
To shoot down confrontation.
We used to carry books to school
Had sports, the fun we can't forget
But now in school, so many fools
Just know how to spell Death.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

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Faith Flights To Flower Heavens
heart muscles surrounded in a reservoir of blood
pollen call is rainbow pot of gold to El Dorado
vessels of golden one flower air in fertilization
flights seed flowers in colours shapes miraculous
heavens ablaze with colour shape smell lure scent
heaven promise nectar pollen rewards await joy flight
heaven wing tips away thick bee hair pile insulation
heaven journey flights thick pile warm in cold weather
bumble bees fly flight build up electrostatic charge
flowers well grounded pollen lured electrostatically
attracted compelled to bumble bees pile when lands
pollen covered bee enter flower heaven charge pollen
pollen charged priority preferentially attracted to stigma
stigma better grounded than other parts of visit flower
wealth amassed pollen all mother load easy pick treasure
bumble bee pollination gifts life to seed crops wildflowers
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also the poems ‘Flights Of Impossibility’ and ‘Pollen Call Is Rainbow Pot Of Gold To El Dorado’.
poem by Terence George Craddock

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The fairy at the bottom of my Garden
There's a fairy at the bottom of my garden
she flits in and out of my flowers
I can sit on the step here
and watch her
she stays there for hours and hours
Her wings and so golden and flimsy
Her little body a few inches in size
but her heart is her biggest attraction
and that isn't any surprise
For the fairy at the bottom of my garden
spends her day saving the bees
for they keep on taking the pollen
but dropping it each time they sneeze
I bet you didn't know that the buzzers
had allergies from pollen, sad hey?
the sound that you thought was just buzzing
are bee's that are sneezing away
Now this fairy works hard as she
gathers the droplets of sweet
pollen that fall
diving and swooping and gathering up
and rolling it into a ball
She sings an enchanting little melody
that sounds like a gentle wind chime
Oh how I would love to have a fairy
to pick up after me all the time
poem by Janice M Pickett

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Red Carpet In Shades Of Green
green grass carpets
watch worker bees
in pollen quest flights
poem by Terence George Craddock

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The Bee-Boy's Song
Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!
"Hide from your neigbours as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!"
A maiden in her glory,
Upon her wedding - day,
Must tell her Bees the story,
Or else they'll fly away.
Fly away -- die away --
Dwindle down and leave you!
But if you don't deceive your Bees,
Your Bees will not deceive you.
Marriage, birth or buryin',
News across the seas,
All you're sad or merry in,
You must tell the Bees.
Tell 'em coming in an' out,
Where the Fanners fan,
'Cause the Bees are just about
As curious as a man!
Don't you wait where the trees are,
When the lightnings play,
Nor don't you hate where Bees are,
Or else they'll pine away.
Pine away -- dwine away --
Anything to leave you!
But if you never grieve your Bees,
Your Bees'll never grieve you.
poem by Rudyard Kipling

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Carry Me Away
I called you up today to bridge my sorrow
Carry me over the line to you
How long will it take to reach tomorrow
Seems like a whole lot of time
Just these thoughts to pull me through
I see blue carpet and cold moonlight settled in
Voices whisper doubts of how I should have been
I feel like Im over the water
But Im caught in the tide
Tell are you calling for me
Does this come deep from inside
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
The sound slowly fades and trickles away from the sea
Its only the windows and i
They hear my dream
Im walking a distance I feel Ive been running for miles
Happy times dont last long
I finally got that its too late to smile
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Over the mind
Carry me away
Under the water
Into your mind
song performed by by Indigo Girls

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rivalry only yields fruits.
Plants vie with each other
To give flowers in different colours.
They have to catch eyes of bees.
Bees vie with each other
To imbue force with their breeds.
They have to be early birds.
Flowers are colourful.
Bees are black moors.
A perfect combination.
Woman, mind your face.
Man, mind your force.
25.04.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Flights Of Impossibility
bumble bees fly upon wings impossible
black yellow fuzzy bodies heavy rise up
helicopters rise up hover off in buzz flight
bumble bees body mind looms large shiny
heavy thought cannot confined be earth bound
wings of hope lift weight impossible to soar
scientists proclaimed your flights impossible
faith was no word transformative to bare load
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also the poems ‘Faith Flights To Flower Heavens’ and ‘Pollen Call Is Rainbow Pot Of Gold To El Dorado’.
poem by Terence George Craddock

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And You...Now Wish So Much for Spring
After Summer days are gone,
You seem to be lurching in hushed compassion...
For someone to carry on,
Those Summer days...
Time has moved away.
As if from you to pawn.
And then when Fall is welcomed in the midst,
Your mind slowly searches...
What it is you believe is missed.,
From a past now reminisced.
As if seeking through memories,
Those hours missed you wish to revisit.
And the buzzing of the bees,
Impatiently waved away.
When Spring budded flowers...
Were ignored but birthing to bloom.
Had no room in your mind,
To find them enchanting.
And you,
Now wish so much for Spring...
To again come soon,
To revisit the bees...
Flowers and trees,
With scented breezes.
You somehow miss.
But next time you promise,
To explore every bit to devour it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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The Rose of Midnight
The moon is now an opening flower,
The sky a cliff of blue.
The moon is now a silver rose;
Her pollen is the dew.
Her pollen is the mist that swings
Across her face of dreams:
Her pollen is the April rain,
Filling the April streams.
Her pollen is eternal life,
Endless ambrosial foam.
It feeds the swarming stars and fills
Their hearts with honeycomb.
The earth is but a passion-flower
With blood upon his crown.
And what shall fill his failing veins
And lift his head, bowed down?
This cup of peace, this silver rose
Bending with fairy breath
Shall lift that passion-flower, the earth
A million times from Death!
poem by Vachel Lindsay

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Gift Giver of My Life
For me you are amongst the stars.
I sense you are there,
In the universe somewhere.
And I know you know,
I am here.
Even though I am just a speck.
To you I appear,
Much more to you than just a guest.
For me you are the air.
And each breath I breathe...
I share.
As the breeze blows,
Through the trees.
And the radiance that 'is'
That makes me aware.
From me you will not leave.
For me you are the ocean waves.
The tides as far as the horizon seen.
The cold, the ice and Winter snow.
The humidity in Summer...
I wish would go!
You are the mountaintops...
And lush valleys below.
And in my mind...
Thoughts I hold,
You already know.
You are the Sun, the Moon.
And in everything that grows.
The birds and bees.
And in the pollen that makes me sneeze!
You are for me,
The gift giver of my life!
With any imperfections I suspect...
You are there accepting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Lorna
See you smile
Angel child,
Thats all I ever wanted to do.
See your laugh
In a photograph,
Thats all I ever wanted to do.
See your swishin walk,
And talk your baby talk,
Thats all I ever wanted to do.
Lorna,
Lorna,
Thats all I ever wanted to do.
Carry you,
Carry you down by the banks of the river,
All along down,
All along down the grasses [throne ? ].
Carry you, carry you,
By the banks of the river,
Thats all,
Thats all I wanted to do.
Ill carry all your books to school,
And maybe be your fool,
Thats all I wanted to do.
Ah, just to hold your hand
All along the golden sand,
Thats all I wanted to do.
Lorna,
Lorna,
Thats all I ever wanted to do.
song performed by by Van Morrison

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press them to your bosom. You can carry them in your pocket.
quote by Ray Bradbury

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Seasons change their innocent lifestyle
I am bit inquisitive of bees collect pollen
from the flowers swollen.
And they prepare for the coming Autumn.
A decayed old tree little embarrassed
And I inquire the reason.
'I am quite old dear and do you know the bitter joy of being an old?
Every year the cruel Autumn comes and snatch my poor innocent leaves
And I am certain this time I won't be able to face another spring again.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

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At the same time, I think books create a sort of network in the reader's mind, with one book reinforcing another. Some books form relationships. Other books stand in opposition. No two writers or readers have the same pattern of interaction.
quote by Margaret Mahy

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong

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Mystic Keeper Of Bees
To Clemency Williams
The Keeper Of Dreams.
Sweet
be classical
scholar tender
of pollen gathering bees,
giving rich nectar
glowing beeswax candles,
glorious
generative generous
pure refined light.
Clemency
I shalt give thee
a solitary poem
of honeyed words,
written for a woman of beauty,
who would tend bees
romantically;
with an ideal
Virgil philosophically
promised thee.
Wilt thy
in return
give freely thy image
to enshrine upon bedroom wall.
So simple poet may bless
thy beauty,
during inspired stillness,
as the night silently falls
as the darkness softly calls.
poem by Terence George Craddock

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