Whenever anyone says 'I can't,' it makes me wish he'd get stung to death by about ten thousand bees. When he says 'I'll try,' five thousand bees. ('I can,' one bee.)
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Bee Sonnet
I was going to write you a sonnet
with much wisdom, both in it and on it.
But while walking near trees
I saw millions of bees
and came home with two bees in my bonnet.
Every bee has and uses his stinger,
and, once stung, it will burn and may linger
well this happened to me,
then another mean bee
put his stinger right into my finger.
So you see, I've known many a bee
who came down from some innocent tree.
But to write you a sonnet
with two bees in my bonnet
was prevented by bee number three.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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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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Night Of A Thousand Hours, No.1, Part 2
a thousand drunks
puking beside the tree
in front of my house
men dressed in tuxedos or thousand dollar suits
women in a designer's exclusive gowns
stumbling & laughing loudly
leaving the posh Halifax exclusive club next door -
a thousand taxis blowing their horns
impatiently waiting for a thousand partiers
desperate to go down-town for another drink
to pick up some guy or girl
to have a story to share with friends the next day-
a thousand television announcers
bellowing out the news of the day
of a thousand brutal murders
of thousands killed in a war somewhere
of thousands starving to death
with film footage in living color & stereo sound
on a thousand television sets
filling a thousand apartments & houses
with a strange blue glow-
a thousand giant leopard slugs
sliming their way along sidewalks
gathering together at night
conspiring in secret meetings
performing strange relegious ceremonies-
a thousand buzzing bees
each trapped inside a glass jar
a thousand small brown bats
flying around the street lights
in a feeding frenzy-
a thousand telephones
all ringing at once
but there's no one home
just a thousand disembodied voices
on a thousand answering machines -
a thousand faces staring at me
through my windows
a thousand faces reflected
in a thousand mirrors
a thousand images
flood into my eyes
a thousand memories
fill my burning over-stuffed brain -
a thousand neurons
firing as I fall on the floor
into a blissful coma
as a thousand suns
explode over the horizon
ending this thousand hour night -
poem by Gordon Coombes
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The bee nest
In Primary school
we played in the field
above the school
in break time.
There we discovered
a hive of bees
under a overhanging
shelve of rock
and I told the other kids
to leave it alone
and went away
to play on my own.
One of the kids
(Peter Conn)
threw three broken bricks
into that bee nest
and that swarm of bees
came like lightning bolts
thundering in.
He ran like a flash
and passed me
with great speed
where I was playing
with some dinky toy cars
and when I looked up
I saw the sky
turning black with bees
and that fool escaped
the consequence of his deeds.
I hardly had time to get up,
never mind to run
when there were bees stinging
and targeting in
from everywhere.
Like a scapegoat the bees
took me for the enemy
and buzzed in
and they came
in great numbers
and that whole swarm stung me
all over my body.
I was swollen up
like a inflated doll,
couldn’t see through my eyes,
could hardly breathe
and got a terrible rash
and were almost unconscious
when we arrived at the nearest hospital
where my mother was in a great panic
and the doctor injected me
a couple of times
and put a drip in my arm
and after that for a while
bees were deadly to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hot Hot
Beneath that hard covered rock.
I know there's something you've got.
On the surface you are cool.
But deep within you're hot!
You keep your-mind-confined.
Like a sweet treasure hidden.
You want to offer me a bite.
And I know just how you like it!
And the birds and the bees sing and hum.
And When I sting you'll know you're stung.
Beneath that hard covered rock.
I know there's something you've got.
On the surface you are cool.
But deep within you're hot!
Hot hot!
You keep your-mind-confined,
And hot!
Like a sweet treasure hidden...
So hot!
You want to offer me a bite,
That's hot!
And I know just how you like it!
Hot hot!
And that's what I've got!
And the birds and the bees sing and hum.
And When I sting you'll know you're stung.
And when we're done no one will run!
From the morning Sun 'til the Sunset comes.
'Cause we're hot!
Like a sweet treasure hidden...
So hot!
You've kept that mind confined!
And hot!
It's so delicious we both lick it!
And the birds and the bees sing and hum.
And When I sting you'll know you're stung.
From the morning Sun 'til the Sunset comes.
Sssssyou'rehot!
And I know just how you like it!
Hot hot!
And that's what I've got!
And the birds and the bees sing and hum.
And When I sting you'll know you're stung.
Beneath that hard covered rock.
I know there's something you've got.
On the surface you are cool.
But deep within you're hot!
And the birds and the bees sing and hum.
And When I sting you'll know you're stung.
And when we're done no one will run!
From the morning Sun 'til the Sunset comes.
Hot hot!
Hot hot!
Hot hot!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Eyes
No eyes for beautiful talk,
Or living beyond sight,
Stung by the bees and wasps
In flight from a tree or realm.
A television is naming scenes
We desire to inflict and employ
To really conquer,
For sight is a real pledge.
The bees and their hive
Rest in safe qualms, filling.
poem by Naveed Akram
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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Sonnet: The Bees Never Give Up
Every time, they crush the bees to death and
Steal away their sweet honey in a trice;
And wax to make candles of immense size;
The Queen bee escapes to another land.
The bees comeback; with vengeance start again
A small bee-hive in the very same place!
They work extra in the sun and in rain,
Buzzing to flowers in a frenzied pace.
And soon their hive has been rebuilt and full,
Of sweet honey and larvae that are fed;
The bees continuing without a lull,
Searching for more nectar in every mead.
How well Nature takes care of its species!
Man must learn from the bee-hive and the bees.
poem by John Celes
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Knees Of My Bees
we share a culture same vernacular
love of physical humor and time spent alone
you with your penchant for spontaneous events
for sticky and raspy, unearthed and then gone
you are a gift promised sent with a wink
with tendencies for conversations that raise bars
you are a sage who is fueled by compassion
comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you are a spirit that knows of no limit
that knows of no ceiling who baulks at dead-ends
you are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers
not seduced by illusions of fair-weather friends
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you are a vision who lives by the signals of
stomach and intuition as your guide
you are a sliver of god on a platter
who walks what he talks and who cops when hes lied
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
you make the knees of my bees weak
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~a Thousand Times, A Thousand Ways~
Beloved…
I’ve expressed my love;
A thousand times
A thousand ways
In a thousand rhymes,
A thousand plays
My muse
My friend
My everything
Alive within my soul
Sewn into my very being
My love…
It is you that makes me whole
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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One
One thousand voices
But not one heard
One thousand thoughts
But not one word
One thousand troubles
But no one will know it
Unless I decide to
Finally show it
One thousand cuts
Run down my arm
A tribute to my
Life of self-harm
One thousand scars
That will not heal
One thousand people
Who will not feel
One thousand but no more
I finally decide
There will be one less person
And one more suicide
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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In A Thousand Words
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU MY FEELINGS.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU I'M WILLING.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD EXPLAIN MY PERSONA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TALK LIKE MY MAMA.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SING YOU A LYRIC.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SELL YOU A GIMMICK.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD TELL YOU IT ALL.
IN A THOUSAND WORDS I COULD SAY NOTHING AT ALL.
poem by LaQuandra Baskin
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Behind The Veil
The withdrawing bees sit on the blooms,
Dusts of yellow fall and start to groom,
The prosecuted flowers, accused of waywardness,
The bees are brought to identify, the lady pregnant,
Points the finger at one, who is in prime,
To take care her deposit in the silent shrine,
Bees get off guard, wrong genetic code,
The community of bees not to want to ride,
And conspire to keep the blooms on guard,
Each matured flower to be covered,
From the wavy petals to the leggy stem,
Just an opening for the rays to peep in,
The blooms on cover, not to attract the bees,
The blooms watch and enjoy exclusive.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Learning from the honey bee
Look at the bees
And learn something
They yearn for others
as busy bees
Together in swarms they fly along
To find gardens together they throng
From flower to flower
From nectar to nectar
Serving their queen bee with compassion
Caring for their young ones in devotion
They toil and toil
From flower to seed
To gather honey honey so sweet
Just to serve just to yearn
A tiny insect makes us learn
Its God Command to serve and earn
Give good to others
And get so in return
Be like the bees to find the truth
Of being happy and to find God's love
Be like a bee and be like the bees
Being for others and nothing above
poem by Rehanayakoob Yakoob
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I Got Stung
Holy smokes land sakes alive I never thought this would happen to me
Ah-ha, yeah, ah-ha yeah
I got stung by a sweet honey bee
What a feelin came over me
Well it started in my eyes, crept up to my head
Flew into my arms, til I was stung dead
Im done, ah-ha, I got stung
Hum ah-ha, yeah ah-ha, yeah
She had all that I wanted and more
Ive never seen honey bees before
Well she started through my ears, buzzing in my brain
Got stung all over but I feel no pain
Im done, ah-ha, I got stung
Well dont think Im complainin
Because Im might pleased that we met
cause you gimme just one little peck on the back of my neck
And I break out in a cold cold sweat
If I live to a hundred and two
I wont let nobody sting me but you
Ill be buzzin round your hive
Evry day at five and Im never gonna leave once I arrive
Im done, ah-ha, I got stung
I got stung yeah, I got stung yeah
Well dont think Im complainin
Cause Im might pleased that we met
cause you gimme just one little peck on the back of my neck
And I break out in a cold cold sweat
If I live to a hundred and two
I wont let nobody sting me but you
Ill be buzzin round your hive
Evry day at five and Im never gonna leave once I arrive
Im done, ah-ha, I got stung, yeah
Im done, ah-ha, I got stung, yeah
Because Im done, ah-ha, I got stung
Hey, ah-ha, yeah
Ah-ha, yeah
Ah-ha, yeah
I got stung, yeah
I got stung, yeah
I got stung, yeah
I got stung, yeah , yeah , yeah , yeah , yeah , yeah , yeah
I got stung, yeah
I got stung, stung, stung yeah, yeah ... yeah
I got stung, stung, stung yeah, yeah ... yeah
I got yeah, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Got Stung
(words & music by aaron schroeder - david hill)
Holy smoke
A land sakes alive!
I never thought this could happen to me
Mm, yeah! mm, yeah!
I got stung by a sweet honey bee
Oh, what a feeling come over me
It started in my eyes
Crept up to my head
Flew to my heart
Till I was stung dead
Im done, uh-uh
I got stung!
Mm, yeah! mm, yeah!
She had all that I wanted and more
And Ive seen honey bees before
Started buzzin in my ear
Buzzin in my brain
Got stung all over
But I feel no pain
Im done, uh-uh
I got stung!
Now, dont think Im complainin
Im might pleased we met
cause you gimme just one little peck
On the back of my neck
And I break out in a cold cold sweat
If I live to a hundred and two
I wont let nobody sting me but you
Ill be buzzin round your hive
Evry day at five
And Im never gonna leave once I arrive
cause Im done
Uh-uh, I got stung!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
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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If you wait be prepared to be stung by the bees.