Childhood Memories Two: Flight Of Bumble Bees
down the rabbit hole
of childhood memories
we tumble into lost world
chasing arriving bumble bees
hunting in prairie of Father’s
pumpkin plants stalking prey
bumble bees fly in proudly
wearing Westport rugby jerseys
in unseasonal yearly attire
buzzing in upon summer breezes
industriously gathering pollen nectar
pollinating all pumpkin flowers
flight from flower to flower flit
will ensure a harvest of pumpkin
baked in roasts in Mother’s oven
boiled served with other vegetables
coated with butter tongue delighting
made into warming winter soups
in stealth with nimble child speed
stalk I do these hardy bumble bees
catching them inside pumpkin flower
after they alight happily crawl inside
to gather proudly pumpkin pollen nectar
to bind in yellow balls about their legs
ah the delight to see fruits of harvest
labour colourfully bound display
as winged workers milk powdery
feasts with nimble fingers falls upon
them great white hunter quickly ties
off closed cup flower with pumpkin
tendril vine stands back awaits buzz
protest as offended harvester discovers
trap of tied capture skillfully quickly
wrought and off to new flowers I flit
in race to capture new bumble bees
to proudly view my bound trophies
in flowery isolation cells of my own
childhood invention what wonder
living trophies sing a song of affront
as Houdini insect escape artists chew
cleverly through flower cells in record
crowd of one pleasing escapes admired
such sport and all fair sporting release
is so admirably individually earned
my Father probes mystery strange sealed
flowers appearing historically preceding
later crop circle mysteries puzzled tells
Mother no explainable cause I soon solve
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
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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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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Ode to a Bumble Bee
I sat and watched a little bumble bee
as he dashed from flower to flower,
collecting pollen here and there,
then he would fly off to his hive somewhere,
to help produce more honey.
That busy little bumble bee.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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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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Childhood Memories Three: Bumble Bees In Space
down the rabbit hole
of childhood memories
we tumble into lost world
into childhood pioneering
memories of Apollo Space
Programme watering the
wonder of an over active
childhood imagination
ready to actively participate
in private space training
programme: stage one selection
process an astronaut a
buzz Aldrin is needed
Command Module Pilot
for next daring mission
into the pumpkin plants
capture and transfer into
jam jar space capsule is
successfully attained in
swift youthful triumph
proceeding to launch pad
Saturn V was not needed
Columbia was under hand
thrown rapidly into space
experiments had proven
spinning under hand thrust
was optimal acceleration
earlier experiments had
shown with less speed
shorter flights bumble bee
unsealed released from jam jar
would fly off seemingly
unaffected by space sickness
later higher speed launches
repeated in multiple launches
produced really dizzy bumbles
my recovery technique
employed no canopy sails
Columbia was hand caught
upon reentry and soft grass
lawn was safe back up
jam jar was never broken
yes study my land landings
observed could have taught
NASA a timely trick or two
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It Is The Details, Be Aware, And Then Be Creative
he could not believe you
when you enumerated all the parts of the flower
what he meant perhaps was only a petal
how it smells at six o'cock in the evening
when you are with him but you said, in all completer
scientific details as follows:
the flower is made of its:
1.Petals are used to attract insects into the flower,
they may have guidelines on them and be scented.
2.Stigma Is covered in a sticky substance that the pollen grains will adhere to.
3. The style raises the stigma away from the Ovary to decrease the likelihood of pollen contamination. It varies in length.
4.Ovary This protects the ovule and once fertilisation has taken place it will become the fruit.
5. The Ovule is like the egg in animals and once fertilisation has taken place will become the seed.
6.Receptacle This is the flower's attachment to the stalk and in some cases becomes part of the fruit after fertilisation e.g. strawberry.
7.Flower stalk Gives support to the flower and elevates the flower for the insects.
8.Nectary This is where a sugary solution called nectar is held to attract insects.
9.Sepal Sepals protect the flower whilst the flower is developing from a bud.
10.Filament This is the stalk of the Anther.
11.Anther The Anthers contain pollen sacs. The sacs release pollen on to the outside of the anthers that brush against insects on entering the flowers. The pollen once deposited on the insect is transferred to the stigma of another flower or the same flower. The ovule is then able to be fertilised.
he could have been sad. He wants the poetic sense of things
not the scientific, realistic approach
to something, like a flower,
the symbol of his love for you.
You busy yourself, without feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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They are sad
They are sad
Butterflies were dancing,
Bees were kissing him.
Bumble bee was sucking him
& children were seeing him with charm.
It was a marigold on the top of the plant.
On the other hand some thorns were seeing the glory of the flower
and
their eyes were full of thrust & tears
Because none was seeing them.
In the last they asked its reason from the flower.
The flower tells them the truth that
They are without beautiful colors,
Juice & fragrance
And he is full of colors, juice & fragrance
So every one likes him.
Another fact is this that the flower
is a symbol of peace & love.
On the other hand the thorn is a symbol of cruelty & pain.
I think that unaccountable people in this world
behave like a thorn so they are sad.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Let's Walk Through This Garden
Come, my beloved, let us walk through this garden
Where lots of bees enchanting with the nature
Life of bees has got the life in the heaven
And placed it on the peach and citrus tree
Let us follow the footprint of those bees
Who has walked miles over the mountain?
The mountain to draw nectar high above the cool plain
Let us go into the fields, my beloved,
For the time of those who left to harvest
Seed of love has sowed into this garden
As the spirit nourishes the grain of joy with love in burden
Let us hear the melodies of the wind touch the wings
Let's sit beside this flower and pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses.
Let us go into the next field, my beloved,
Let's us not fill our heart with joy of sadness
Bees are yet to shed tears for those who have already lost their heavies
Under the forced of the whispering wind
Let us tend the bloom of the earth
Let us make the flowers our happiest heaven
Let us relax after the day's toil,
And listen to the murmur of the provoke bees
Rather parting with old acquaintance.
Oh! Let us return to our dwelling, my beloved!
For the wind has caused the yellow leaves to fall;
And shroud the withering flower that whisper elegy to the bees
Come my beloved, come close to me since nature has just wearied
And bidding her enthusiasm farewell.
With quiet and content sorrow
Come close to me beloved; come too closed to me.
Let us speak glory of our heart,
For that is greater than the sorrow of the bees
Lost her heaves in the flower garden
Under the force of the merciless whispering wind.
poem by Kezang Dawa
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Melancholy Cold
The frost is on the pumpkin
and the scarecrows taken down.
The bleakness of the winter
is coming to my town.
The fowl are flying V shapes
to warmer climes than here
for the frost is on the pumpkin.
Soon icicles will appear.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When I Think Of Home
When I think of 'home' I think of cherry pies
When I think of 'home' I think of mulberry trees
When I think of 'home' I think of butterflies
When I think of 'home' I think of bumble bees
When I think of 'home' I think of hummingbirds
When I think of 'home' I think of sun brewed tea
When I think of 'home' I think of morning walks
When I think of 'home' I think of Grandma and me
When I think of 'home' I think of hidden trails
When I think of 'home' I think of lullabies
When I think of 'home' I think of signs of spring
When I think of 'home' I think of pumpkin pies
When I think of 'home' I think of bedtime stories
When I think of 'home' I think of I think of honeysuckle
When I think of 'home' I think of roses blooming
When I think of 'home' I can't help but chuckle
Because when I think of 'home' I think Heaven
When I think of 'home' I think of all thats kind
When I think of 'home' I think of dancing
When I think of 'home' Grandma comes to mind
poem by Catlin L. Crawford
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The Dancing Bumble Bee / Bumble Boogie
The Dancing Bumble Bee/
Bumble Bee Boogie
And when the hot winds blow tonight
The dancing bumble bee takes flight
And all the flowers in the field
Prepare their nectar soon to yield
Dance
Dance
Fly
Fly
Behold the dancing bumble bee
And as they gather 'round to see
His rhythm burns like a raging fire
In passion by that sweet desire
Dance
Dance
Fly
Fly
Dance
Dance with me here tonight
I'll make you warm and right
I'll make you warm tonight
Come dance
He danced until the morning came
Until the music's last refrain
And though he knew it soon would end
He only lived to dance again
Dance
Dance
Fly
Dance
Dance with me here tonight
I'll make you warm and right
I'll make you warm tonight
Come dance
Dance
Dance
Fly
N. Diamond, J. Fina 1978
Album: You Don't Bring Me Flowers
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Active Bees Fly In The Garden
Beautiful flowers in the orchid,
Active bees fly in the garden round and round,
They are humming around each and every flower,
They go around smelling for honey flavor,
Are those flowers Poppy or Rose?
While the bees find lots of flower,
They are happy and dance forever,
They will consume lots of honey,
They will inebriate and buzz
as if consumed wine in a winery!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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The Sweet Month Of June Is Now Gone
The sweet month of June is now gone
Can you believe me?
In June
We sat almost everyday
During the day
In our patios
And
The bumble bees
We heard going by
And at the same time they
Had collected the nectar from the flowers
Of our gardens
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Blossoms
Flowers lovely, marvellous gift from God,
They deck the Earth, they give delight,
They drape the dales and adorn the hills,
They feast the eyes and fill the hearts.
My life blooms when plants are abloom,
Each morn, I gaze at flowers in myriad hues,
That adorn the garden my mother keeps,
Her prized possession next to her kids.
Through the arch window, Roses are in sight,
Chrysanthemums and Daisies, they grow in rows,
The white Lilies and the purple Tulips,
They seem to delight in their contrast shades.
In summer I watch the butterflies flitting around,
Also the honey bees that come to steal the pollen from the blooms,
Small birds that dart into twining boughs,
Build nests in the secret hide of bushy trees.
In rain, I watch the flutter of silvery leaves,
Washed anew and sparkling in radiant glow,
After rain, I count the droplets trapped within,
That struggle to escape from the chamber of hollow blooms.
In breeze, I see the flowers dancing in cheer,
And swing their heads in synchronizing motion,
These sights fill me with indescribable joy,
And set my heart racing in glee.
But when a withering flower comes in view,
It aches my heart and makes me grieve,
Then a question crops within my mind,
Why should a flower wilt and wither so fast.
Before I let the question fly from me
A consoling thought fleets across my brain
Transient it be, it delights all,
Spreads its fragrance all around,
Serves nectar to humming birds and bees,
And decks the Earth in brilliant charm.
What more-needed to fulfill a life,
Than be a source of delight to many!
poem by Valsa George
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My Lovely Flower
I thank God for my lovely flower
For there are millions who are ignorant of her existance,
The enchanting aroma that is with her,
Or her charm that makes me to always keep thinking,
I am fascinated that she was wonderfully made,
Then just kept for me to find one day.
Seeing her is like waking up at dawn to bath in the Sun's rays
She has harmless attraction like a colorful butterfly,
Or a bright flower always sort by the bees for it's beauty,
Not forgetting it's sweet nectar also!
That is my sweet Sweetie.
The flower is far from me and I cannot smell the aroma now,
Last night I went to dreamland where I hoped to find my flower Then I woke up this morning to melodious sounds,
Sounds of chirping birds in the nearby tree as if to praise her,
Thinking about my flower.
I want to tend and care for this flower,
So that she may produce more flowers like herself,
O flower! Remain that lovely forever.
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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The Optimistic Cucumber
Once upon a time
There lived a cheerful cucumber
In a lovely vegetable garden.
Optimistic and happy in its green dress,
The cucumber was born toothless;
Yet it made a firm decision to resist
The learned advice to visit a dentist.
In the garden the days quickly trickled
And on an early summer morning
The cucumber timidly asked
Its gentle neighbor and kin,
A yellow and plump pumpkin:
"Excuse me, but don't you think,
That you are a little fat? "
"Oh, I don't mind to be like that
After all I am not an adipose cat.
And besides, as a humble pumpkin
I would be embarrassed truly
Not to be as I am, corpulently brave
And unflinchingly yours, roly-poly."
Then suddenly a jolly July breeze
Blew through the morning garden
And the gardener stepped in warbling.
He praised his good luck
And surveyed several vegetables
Ripened with sun shine to pluck.
And thus before the clock
Struck a forenoon ten, unbiased,
The wholesome cucumber ended up
In a glorious Greek salad for breakfast.
Still, just before being eaten like that,
It turned to the pumpkin and said:
"Remember this beautiful garden
With its comely butterflies unfurled
And never-ever lose your faith
In the goodness of the world."
poem by Paul Hartal
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Free As A Bumble Bee
Im down and I feel depressed
Sitting here just waiting
For next bus travelling
Downtown
Its a crying shame
Isnt it
The beautiful weather
If I could have my way
Well, I would not be working
On a day like this I know what Id like to be
As free as a bumble bee
Take a sip from
Every flower
Free as a bumble bee
While away each lazy hour
What a good life
Lying laid back
Like an old railroad bum by the track
What a good life
Living outdoors
Lie in the grass and chew on a straw
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pumpkin
Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,
Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,
While he waited to know that his warning was true,
And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.
On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden
Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden;
And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold
Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold;
Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North,
On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth,
Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines,
And the sun of September melts down on his vines.
Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored;
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before;
What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,
What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?
Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,
When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,
Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!
When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,
Our chair a broad pumpkin, -- our lantern the moon,
Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam
In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!
Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better
E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter!
Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine,
Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine!
And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow,
And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky
Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Roses Are Free
Take a piece of tinsel and put it on the tree
Cut a slab of melon and pretend that you still love me
Carve out a pumpkin and rely on your destiny
Get in your car and cruise the land of the brave and the free
But dont forget to understand exactly what you put on the tree
Dont believe the florist when he tells you that the roses are free
Tke a wrinkled raisin, and do with it what you will
Push it into third if you know youre gonna climb a hill
Eat plenty of lasagna til you know that youve had your fill
Resist all the urges that make you wanna go out and kill
But dont forget to understand exactly what you put on the tree
Dont believe the florist when he tells you that the roses are free
Throw that pumpkin at the tree
Unless you think that pumpkin holds your destiny
Cast it off into the sea, bake that pie and eat it with me
[repeat]
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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