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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Related quotes
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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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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Wasp
Her slender waist resembles a wasp
And she goes on the muddy road never stops.
Unlike bees, wasps are largely carnivorous
And their species, digger wasps, sand wasps & mud wasps
But you are a kind woman and I am sure you do not have a formidable sting
Please do not hurt me as I am scared of wasps.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Two Children
Two children (small), one Four, one Five,
Once saw a bee go in a hive,
They'd never seen a bee before!
So waited there to see some more.
And sure enough along they came
A dozen bees (and all the same!)
Within the hive they buzzed about;
Then, one by one, they all flew out.
Said Four: 'Those bees are silly things,
But how I wish I had their wings!'
poem by Spike Milligan
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Wasps!
I’m walking home, along the road,
Carrying my shopping; a heavy load.
I hear a buzzing sound right by my ear,
And my whole body fills with fear.
Without even looking, I know what is there.
I’m afraid that it will get caught in my hair.
I stand there stock still and totally freeze;
I’m terrified of wasps, but don’t mind bees.
A frown appears upon my face and I pray,
That this worrying wasp, will soon go way.
Soon, he loses interest and gets off my case,
But, even so, I purposefully quicken my pace.
The wasp disappears and I’m on my own again,
Thankful that, on me, he didn’t inflict any pain.
To date, I’ve been lucky and haven’t been stung,
But I’m so totally dreading my first ever one.
Freezing on the spot has worked for me so far,
And has managed to keep me from any harm.
When a wasp approaches, my shoulders hunch.
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of ‘al fresco’ lunch!
Some people wave their arms and go ‘shoo! ’
But, I know this is the worst thing they can do.
Of wasps, I’ve always been so totally terrified,
And it’s a fear, which is extremely hard to hide.
A wilful wasp flying around in search of food,
Can, in a heartbeat, suddenly change my mood.
Bees, unlike wasps, are useful and earn their worth,
But what is the actual purpose of wasps on the earth?
They just annoy people to the point of distraction;
Where there’s a wasp, there’s often some action!
I’m really not their biggest fan, and I really think
I’d be more than happy, if they became extinct!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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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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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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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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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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My Bees: An Allegory
"O bees, sweet bees!" I said, "that nearest field
Is shining white with fragrant immortelles.
Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."
Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield,
I set, and patient for the autumn's yield
Of sweet I waited.
When the village bells
Rang frosty clear, and from their satin cells
The chestnuts leaped, rejoicing, I unsealed
My hive.
Alas! no snowy honey there
Was stored. My wicked bees had borne away
Their queen and left no trace.
That very day,
An idle drone who sauntered through the air
I tracked and followed, and he led me where
My truant bees and stolen honey lay.
Twice faithless bees! They had sought out to eat
Rank, bitter herbs. The honey was not sweet.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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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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Statuary
Bees may be trusted, always,
to discover the best, nay, the only
human, solution. Let me cite
an instance; an event, that,
though occurring in nature, is still
in itself wholly abnormal. I refer
to the manner in which the bees
will dispose of a mouse
or a slug
that may happen to have found its way
into the hive.
The intruder killed,
they have to deal with
the body,
which will very soon poison
their dwelling. If it be impossible
for them to expel or dismember it,
they will proceed methodically
& hermetically
to enclose it in a veritable sepulcher
of propolis & wax,
which will tower fantastically
above the ordinary monuments
of the city.
*
When we die
our bodies powder, our bodies
the vessel & the vessel
empties.
Our dying does not fill
the hive with the stench
of dying. But outside
the world hungers.
A cockroach, stung,
can be dragged back out.
A careless child
forced a snail inside with a stick once.
We waxed over the orifice of its shell
sealing the creature in. And here,
the bottom of the comb,
a mouse,
driven in by winter & lack.
Its pawing woke us. We stung it
dead.
Even before it died it reeked - worse
the moment it ceased
twitching.
Now everyday
we crawl over it
to pass outside,
the wax form of what was
staring out, its airless sleep,
the mouse we built
to warn the rest from us.
poem by Nick Flynn
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Radio Waves
In SETI
Radio waves are the beacon
Of hope This is
Anthropocentrism Because
Eusociality (the hive mind) as with
Bees, ants and wasps
That trail & discover
Is a totally different matter
So might they
They may be undiscoverable
This way via the top hits
Of the galactic jive
Go then
There are animals right here
First to find
poem by Stan Petrovich
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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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I Write About The Butterfly
'I write about the butterfly,
It is a pretty thing;
And flies about like the birds,
But it does not sing.
'First it is a little grub,
And then it is a nice yellow cocoon,
And then the butterfly
Eats its way out soon.
'They live on dew and honey,
They do not have any hive,
They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and hornets,
And to be as good as they are we should strive.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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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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On A Honey Bee
Thou born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come on vagrant wing?--
Does Bacchus tempting seem--
Did he, for you, the glass prepare?--
Will I admit you to a share?
Did storms harrass or foes perplex,
Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay--
Did wars distress, or labours vex,
Or did you miss your way?--
A better seat you could not take
Than on the margin of this lake.
Welcome!--I hail you to my glass:
All welcome, here, you find;
Here let the cloud of trouble pass,
Here, be all care resigned.--
This fluid never fails to please,
And drown the griefs of men or bees.
What forced you here, we cannot know,
And you will scarcely tell--
But cheery we would have you go
And bid a glad farewell:
On lighter wings we bid you fly,
Your dart will now all foes defy.
Yet take not oh! too deep a drink,
And in the ocean die;
Here bigger bees than you might sink,
Even bees full six feet high.
Like Pharaoh, then, you would be said
To perish in a sea of red.
Do as you please, your will is mine;
Enjoy it without fear--
And your grave will be this glass of wine,
Your epitaph--a tear--
Go, take your seat in Charon's boat,
We'll tell the hive, you died afloat.
poem by Philip Freneau
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Pain In Pleasure
A THOUGHT ay like a flower upon mine heart,
And drew around it other thoughts like bees
For multitude and thirst of sweetnesses;
Whereat rejoicing, I desired the art
Of the Greek whistler, who to wharf and mart
Could lure those insect swarms from orange-trees
That I might hive with me such thoughts and please
My soul so, always. foolish counterpart
Of a weak man's vain wishes ! While I spoke,
The thought I called a flower grew nettle-rough
The thoughts, called bees, stung me to festering:
Oh, entertain (cried Reason as she woke)
Your best and gladdest thoughts but long enough,
And they will all prove sad enough to sting !
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Just for joy, take from my palms
Just for joy, take from my palms
A little sun, a little honey,
As Persephone's bees commanded.
An unfastened boat cannot be untied.
A shade shod in fur cannot be heard.
In the dense forest of life fear cannot be overcome.
Only kisses are left for us.
Furry, like small bees
That die when they leave the hive.
They rustle in transparent thickets of night,
Their home is the dense Taiga woods;
Their food -- time, honeysuckle, mint.
So take and enjoy my passionate gift,
A dry, unsightly necklace
Of dead bees, who changed honey into sun.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Daring JearBear
He’s not the average scared bear,
He’s a bear that really dares.
Dares to climb high into the sky,
up to his tree house as bees fly by.
Bees flying around his honeycomb,
Really close to his tree house home.
He swats them away with his big bear claw,
Then he goes into his house and has a gnaw.
He naws on his favorite bite,
It’s a hamburgers filled with dust mites.
Then he goes to cut some zzzz’s
Then he starts to dream,
of funny things like buzzing bees.
Then he feels a sting,
it’s a real bee stinging his knee.
He jumps up and makes a roar,
he runs out his tree house door.
Jumps down to the ground
and jumps in the lake,
he feels relief and has a great day.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 20,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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