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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Related quotes
Pollen Call Is Rainbow Pot Of Gold To El Dorado
walk within fields walk within woods
walk upon prairie grass or wild tundra
all is listening nature all nature listens
observe quiet hare sure big ears hears
but the bumblebee does not have ears
how then is it a fuzzy bumblebee hears
it is not known whether a bumblebee hears
it is not known how fuzzy bumblebee hears
a bumblebee could hear sound waves passing
sound waves soft passing through freedom air
a bumblebee can feel the vibrations of sounds
vibrations of sounds through wood materials
a bumblebee could hear sound through legs
a bumblebee could hear sound through fuzz
fuzzy body to kept warm to keep out winds
to keep out wind chill so as not to catch chills
a bumblebee watches golden pollen showers
a bumblebee dances among flowers for hours
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 seed colour shape smell lure scent
heaven kiss nectar pollen rewards await joy flight
flights of impossibility sow wild flower seed scent
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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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Self-forgetfulness
....Gentle smooth touch
Of flower petals,
Swallowing the kiss,
An angry buzzing bumblebee
Fluffy and painted
Like in a thousand colors
Leaving the pollen
On the fingertip,
Inhaling the pollen
For tasting the flower,
Sitting in that field of daffodils,
Yellow daffodils,
For dreaming love
Until self-forgetfulness,
For waking up,
The dew shining on the leaves,
The breast caressing,
Tasting the milk,
Caressing the skin,
Long hair touching
The increasing beard
And the flower flavor,
Flooding the mouths,
While kissing
And bearing all these....
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Not Everyone Looks Forward To Spring
Although it is a time of bloom and blossom
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
It also is a time of heavy pollen
And not everybody looks forward to the Spring.
The garden in full bloom is looking lovely
And blossoms on the bushes and the trees
But pollen by the warm breeze is carried
And you hear some people sniffle, cough and sneeze.
The beauty of Spring on the artist's canvas
And Spring inspire the lyric poet to rhyme
But all of those who have an allergy to pollen
Will tell you that Spring is not their favourite time.
Not every one yearns for the warm weather
Or for the scents of blossom, rose and flower
You cannot enjoy the beauty of a sunlit garden
If you cough and sneeze one hundred times an hour.
It is a time of greenery and beauty
When wild birds build their nests and breed and sing
And Mother Nature she is at her loveliest
But not everyone looks forward to the Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dream Flight Tiny Flowers
a dandelion dazzles
bright yellow petals
set among soft blades
green grass carpets
flowers waiting host bees
in pollen quest flights
petals fade to dreams
dandelion transcends
really to harness winds
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny flowers bunched seeds
together dream lift flights
to distant diverse fields
dandelion purpose blooms
dream flight tiny flowers
produce seed parachutes
compass aline on heavens
choose navigation stars
rich green grass maps
imagination showers
through blue skies
or grey black storms
watch seasons changes
feelings thoughts minds
souls dance time changes
through wonder ranges
yellow petals subtle changes
one day transformation clicks
into white honeycomb wishes
fades into spectral stems
preparations need seeds
in readiness to roam skies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Smell of Pollen
I keep losing the butterfly,
I chase the smell of pollen
On its sunned wings
And the nights of dews
When it flutters no more.
In my dreams it lands
With its soft brush of touch,
So close to me, yet so far,
Melting in the dark.
I chase it, lose it and wail for it.
The butterfly is there always
Coming back to haunt
The dreams of my dust,
With the smell of pollen
On its sunned wings
That flutters no more
In the earthly night.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Sonnet In Bee Flat
There must be a place (but I've yet to find one)
beneath the Sol-drawn dawn of autumn skies
where cut-throat trout still find the heart to run
and the fullness of Summer's life never dies.
There, as if Earth had changed rotation,
Instead of honey, nature gathers dew
and composes a world without notation.
Unlike the life of old, this work is new.
Despite the nearing gray cold wintry blast,
the twisted fir tree keeps her dreams of green,
of a chamomile welwitschian past,
and buzzing yellow flights of friends less seen.
But bees still dance their flower pollen-aise,
a song of haze gold mid-October days.
(mindbringer,19 October 2009)
poem by Thomas Holderfield
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Flower Obsession
I, a bee
buzz, land, flee
Climb in your flower
Swap sweet pollen
Flower Child
My flower obsession
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 Wish All Flowers Don't Have Pollen
Non-stop sneezing
runny nose
itchy eyes
oh, what a day!
My pollen allergy
here again!
Cherry blossom
plum blossom
peach blossom
oh, how lovely!
but so sad,
I cannot have them
inside my house.
Non-stop sneezing
runny nose
itchy eyes....
oh,
I wish
all flowers
don't have pollen.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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A Gardener cries in the Autumn
When a bee flies from a flower to another flower
collecting pollen,
I can feel the flower's depression.
But she never says; 'leave me alone'
and she always bloom.
Blossom, I thought you are everlasting.
But eventually the unchanging rigorous wind
comes from a wrong direction
and he takes you away,
where a place call far beyond infinity?
Dedication to the poetess / friend Melvina.Germain
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Lure The Flower To Laugh
Bless oh! Lord every moist that touches
each dew to fall, down the smooth and
sooth skin of flower that call every morning
glows
darling the day with joy and prosperous
light to lay down your energy to make
it full and easy to move for another day
to grow
savor the moment of hope and cherish with
sweet embrace the life saving breath of
laughter, in every fresh of wind hauls as
each pollen sipped by refreshing needle of
Butterfly and Bees of my nectar
thank you Dear Lord, I commence...
poem by Antonio Liao
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Lackluster Poet
I don't want
to know
anymore
dangerous men
better
a flower
with a bird
eating pollen
from my head.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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