Busy As A Bee
If man kept himself as busy as a bee
he'd sweeten up the world and never would we see
bitterness and envy filling every hour.
It would all be sweetened like nectar in each flower.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Busy, busy, busy
Busy, busy, busy Rick
Like a little working bee
Flying from flower to flower
Gathering sweet nectar
From dawn to dusk
Sometimes into the night
Busier than a little working bee
poem by Josephine Lee
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Flower of Delight
Enter my flower
love becomes an open door
into my hearts way
Once again I come
drinking in your sweet nectar
flower of delight
Color my dreams blue
enter my lovely flower
in the morning dew.
I melt in nectar
of this beautiful flower
she overwhelmes me.
poem by Heather Burns
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The Flower and Bee
“Who are you? ” said the rose to the bee.
“What’s it to you? ” said he arrogantly.
“Well, I don’t know who the hell you are,
and why you’re stealing my special nectar.”
“Don’t you realise that I’ve come from afar
just to collect your special nectar.”
“Good manners cost nothing and that’s a fact,
and a little respect would see to that.”
“I’m in a hurry and haven’t got time for this,
I have many pick-ups that I just can’t miss;
and I take exception to being called a thief
after all said and done I bring you relief.
It’s a simple case of I help you and you help me,
an excepted procedure for the flower and bee.
“I know perfectly well the procedures Mr Bee,
all that I’m asking is for common courtesy.
You should politely ask before coming aboard,
consideration for privacy can’t be ignored.”
“I’m sincerely sorry for my thoughtless attitude,
I hope you’ll forgive me for being so rude.”
“Of course Mr Bee, now that you’ve apologised,
good manners will benefit you and your hive.”
“Then may I have your permission to carry on,
I’m busy, busy, busy, and my works never done? ”
poem by Orlando Belo
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Beautiful Flower
The most beautiful flower
filling my senses with passion
overflowing my being with plenty
pulling away my pain
filling my emptiness with cool water
joining my soul without reason
I can feel the sweet taste of love embracing my heart
to touch this most beautiful flower
filling my senses with warmth
pulling the harsh cold snow from my heart
overflowing my eyes with sunbeams of hope
between my mind and my dreams...
I caress this flower, this most beautiful flower
filling my thoughts with daydreams of reality
opening my eyes to the greatest truth
this most beautiful flower.
poem by John Earing
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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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A butterfly finds its way back
A butterfly finds its way back
It was a drift from the path
It took place sometime back
Because our heroine sensed a lack
In the taste of nectar in the flower of the park
To the same park this flock of butterflies
Used to come and enjoy the sweet and nice
Nectar in the red and blue poppies
And fly back with this sweetened hobby
It was more an excuse than a reason
For this drift, but a thought’s treason
To deviate and critically question
All that were followed in mindless unison
Our young colourful one with whistle
In her wings, over a time turned hostile
To this tradition and thought it futile
To be in the flock and went away for a while
Others in the group became worried
Wondering where she would have been carried
Was she in the insect flower got buried
Or was by ants after an injury curried
One fine morning suddenly the butterfly was sighted
And she joined the flock as if nothing got slighted
And told others she followed the path less lighted
For a flower who became with her less delighted
She expressed to join the flower of flock’s choice
And be ever with it without making any further noise
The flock has no words to say but to rejoice
The retrieval of the butterfly with her vouching voice
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Acknowledge Him
Each day, as busy as I may be, my Lord always speaks to me,
At times throughout a busy day, this as I walk life’s narrow way.
Acknowledging Him in all I do, busy days, He sees me through,
Trusting Him with all my heart, He guides me from the very start.
Christ walks with me all day long, filling me with His joyful song,
With me in the darkest night, He guides me safely with His Light.
Filling me with joy and peace, with a presence that will not cease,
For in my heart, Christ lives inside, helping me, in Truth, to abide.
Friend, as I daily abide in Him, Christ guides from a world of sin,
He leads me with a staff and rod, to live each day to honor God.
Christ takes me to waters still, as he leads me in His Father’s will,
To make a testimony of my life, to bring the lost to Jesus Christ.
Through this, blessing comes my way, as I live for Him each day,
Lifting up my Lord and King, as I acknowledge Him in everything,
It is only fitting to give Him praise, as He guides me all my days,
Filling me with peace and power, to help me in that busiest hour.
And all of this has come to me, from the cross raised at Calvary,
The cross lifted for every nation, to draw men to God’s Salvation,
So you could acknowledge too, Christ, who died for me and you,
Then God can come into your life, through The Son, Jesus Christ.
The Ways of the Mind
The Ways of the Mind
Against the thorns
Grazing,
To the honeyed rose
The bee flew
A-buzzing!
With the breeze
Swaying
Was the pretty rose-
And at the bee it
Sighed with envy.
"How I wish
I were the bee
Flying so free
And not bound
To the ground
Like the piteous me."
So thought the flower
In its bower.
"How I wish
I were a flower
Cupping the sweet nectar
And bound
To the ground
Without having to fly
All day long."
So sang the bee
By the lea.
From above
The Omniscient smiled
At the strange ways of the mind-
For were not each of them
Now interchanged—
The flower having been the bee
And the bee having been the flower
In their previous birth and longed so!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Busy
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....
I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What Shall Be?
What shall be my clandestine hour?
Is to write a poem about a flower
The world is but an open flower
A parchment of white paper
What shall be my clandestine hour?
Is to write a poem about a flower
Or watch another flower bear fruit
Give her hand, bite my tongue mute.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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The Bent Flower
There once was a flower,
Who, at an untimely hour,
Began to crook to one side.
The poor little flower,
Would no longer tower,
In the field full of green grass and snow.
But from yonder came a man,
With nothing but a pan,
And sat by the badly bent flower.
And the man sat with the flower day and night,
Helping it get through its plight,
But came the following day.
That within an hour,
The man who sat with the flower,
Was gone like night during day.
poem by Tro Missaelian
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We Give What We Have
Once a lazy drone
asked a wild flower
how it doles out
nectar to all...
foes or friends.
It tried to chide
the meek flower
in degrading tone
and bragged about
the feats of his own-
Regardless, who grabs,
a fallen wretch or a king
I spare not anyone but
give a venomous sting
Then calmly replied
the generous flower:
Friend! You are right!
Really, we can give the world
only that, what we have had!
poem by Madhav Sarkunde
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We Give What We Have...
Once a lazy drone
asked a wild flower
how it doles out
nectar to all...
foes or friends.
It tried to chide
the meek flower
in degrading tone
and bragged about
the feats of his own-
Regardless, who grabs,
a fallen wretch or a king
I spare not anyone but
give a venomous sting
Then calmly replied
the generous flower:
Friend! You are right!
Really, we can give the world
only that, what we have had!
poem by Madhav Sarkunde
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Nectar Sweet
My humming bird heart
beats for you
faster still with you in sight;
but you my flower
elude me.
I flutter
mid-air in flight
above other flowers
but no nectar drips from my beak's visit;
no matter how far I plunge
toward some flower's-center
it's not yours, and I retreat.
I pause,
flutter away
without that sweet juice of yours
I crave.
Possessing it is my Obsessions' Obsession.
Nothing deters my eye
from my flower-mission;
neither cat
nor rival bird
challenge me
when they espy my determined ire,
as I put my sharpened beak on display,
exhibiting to them my humming bird speed
and my reckless need.
No, they shrink
away
with second thoughts
and leave me to my nectar quest.
Some flowers are beautiful,
but none so beautiful as yours;
this is set in me for all time-
even if I,
nectarless,
become weak and falter-
no longer able to fly
and plunge spiraling to the ground;
I will have you my sweet
or no nectar at all.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Life is nectar
Beginning is poison
End is nectar
No no
Beginning is nectar
Middle is nectar
End is also nectar
Whole things
Whole activities
Is only nectar
Enjoy the life
Life is not bitter
Life is nectar.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
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58
Butterfly, butterfly
you live up there
high up in the sky
steer and you veer you
there and here
flower to flower-
dine on fairy fare
and nectar-water
apparently without a care;
all time defy
living on family gold-
isn't it really time
you had a caterpiller?
Beware the coming cold.
It isn't fair.
If you, too, were
stuck with hair
with only half my sucker power
and saw clear
on carrion to feed
you too could vermin breed
sure and awfully sure, I'm
sure that if you only tried
you could be
a bug like me
annoying everyone
always on the outside
trying to sneak in
or the inside on
longing to get out
anger self justified
seeming not to care-
Shape up or you're done for
there, Butterfly-
Yours, in envy and despair,
Fly.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Flower Queen
The Flower Queen makes haste,
The Unicorn gives chase,
The Hummingbird abuzz,
Collecting nectar and fuss.
Her wedding day draws near,
She stays calm, feels no fear.
The nectar for the feast,
She prays for wedded bliss.