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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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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The Bumblebee
1 You better not fool with a Bumblebee! --
2 Ef you don't think they can sting -- you'll see!
3 They're lazy to look at, an' kind o' go
4 Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow,
5 An' ac' so slouchy an' all fagged out,
6 Danglin' their legs as they drone about
7 The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in
8 'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag'in!
9 Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way
10 In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day, --
11 An' I ist grabbed it -- an' nen let go --
12 An' "Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!"
13 Says The Raggedy Man; an' he ist run
14 An' pullt out the stinger, an' don't laugh none,
15 An' says: "They has be'n folks, I guess,
16 'At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less, --
17 Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumblebee
18 Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!"
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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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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We have already done so much that people call dynamics. Look at the bumblebee being unaware of scientific truths, goes ahead and flies anyway. If it is possible, we will do it here.
quote by Tom Hopkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ball whizzes past like a bumblebee and the Indians are in the sea.
quote by Navjot Singh Sidhu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bumblebee
Buzzing bumblebee
you just might be the cutest
thing today I've seen.
Your black and yellow
jacket, awkwardness of flight.
Amusing fellow
This black and burly
fellow that visits different
flowers all day long.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Lawn Mower
Giant...earthbound
Metal bumblebee
Gorging on green grass
And on an occasional
Green water hose!
poem by LaRetha Adams
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Bumblebee In the Bush
Bumblebee in the bush
What be your fondest wish?
A sweet delicate flower,
Or maybe a gentle summer shower -
Perhaps a mild breeze
Flowing through the trees,
To blow you away far
Closer to some shinning star -
No, ofcourse not; for now
You've much work to do.
So continue buzzing to and fro,
With such purpose in where you go -
Yet I must wonder, at night in your quiet sleep
Could possibly there be a dream for even an insect to reap?
Perchance all of life's deepest quest
Involves finding that wonderous place, of eternal rest -
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Waiting for the Summer
Warm Summer…
Bumblebee flies to the south
Hailed by the beautiful blossom orchid
Summer..oh Summer…
Awe grows on the way to the summer twilight..
Wish she could find the summer
Before she leaves the space
Forsake all Heavenly-Earth things
Summer..oh..Summer
poem by Dina Satika
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Some things that fly there be
89
Some things that fly there be—
Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee—
Of these no Elegy.
Some things that stay there be—
Grief—Hills—Eternity&mda sh;
Nor this behooveth me.
There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Boy Next Door
There's a boy who lives next door;
And this boy is just as bad
As a boy can be; and poor!
He's so poor it makes me sad
When I see him. Out at knee;
And no shoes; and, more than that,
Hardly any shirt or hat.
He's as poor as Poverty.
II.
But I like him; yes, I do.
He can play 'most any game,
And tell fairy stories, too;
Funny stories, just the same
As my father does. And he
Told me one about a frog,
Living near a lake or bog,
Frog that married a bumblebee.
III.
And another of Jumping Joan
And Hink Minx, the old witch that
Sits before the fire alone
Frying fat for her black cat.
And of Craney Crow; her dog
And her chicken. But the best,
One I like more than the rest,
'S that one of the bee and frog.
IV.
Well, the bumblebee would sing
All day long; and all the night
Sang the old frog; till the thing,
So folks said, was done in spite,
Just to keep the flowers awake:
One a rose, a brier-rose;
And the other, one of those
Lilies that grow in a lake.
V.
All day long the bee would prod
At the rose and buzz and keep
Shaking it; it couldn't nod,
Much less ever go to sleep:
Humming to it, 'Don't you hear?
I'm so happy! Can't you be
Just a little neighborly?
Ain't my froggie just a dear?'
VI.
And the frog all night would sing
To the water-lily; while
On the pad he'd sit or cling,
On his face an ear-wide smile,
Croaking, 'Listen! have you heard
All about my bouncing bee?
Don't you wish that you were she?
I'm as happy as a bird!'
VII.
Then the water-lily'd yawn,
And the rose would bat its eyes:
One would say, 'It's nearly dawn.
Better sleep. So I advise.'
And the other, 'Jumping Jim!
That old frog's a wonder! made
Just for you. Can't I persuade
You to sing your songs to him?'
VIII.
Finally it got so bad
That the rose and lily agreed
They would fix them. Both were mad
And just dying to be freed
From this tuneful tyranny.
So the rose just took a thorn,
When the bee dropped in one morn,
Stabbed her; killed her dead, you see.
IX.
That night by the yellow moon,
Sitting on the lily-pad,
Tuning up his old bassoon,
Did n't that old frog feel sad
When the lily told him! Cried
Fit to break one's heart; and, plunk!
In he plunged right there and sunk:
Drowned, committed suicide.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Lost In Music
LOST IN MUSIC
every night she liked
to take off her clothes to
Hungarian Rhapsody
she would bathe
every second Sunday
in Mozart's Symphony No.40
curiously she
would fall asleep to
The Flight of the Bumblebee
her every activity
scored to a music
she adored
mute
she let the music
speak for her
happy
trapped inside
her world of music
sometimes I glimpsed her
staring out from behind the bars
of musical notes
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Lotuses, Artichokes, Bees and Human beings
The Bumblebee noticed
Her young son in a gloomy mood
On a Summer
And she questioned;
' Why you look so sad? '
'Mom! I promised that beautiful Artichoke
One day I marry her also I have an affair with a lotus!
'Oh! We have already arranged your cousin sister
And she's very fond of you
You'll be an Outcast being adamant
And your Papa would be angry,
Lotuses and Artichokes belong to selfish human beings
And definitely they burn our peaceful Beehive! '
* Humbly to a friend who calls me a Fool!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Common Things
I like to hear of wealth and gold,
And El Doradoes in their glory;
I like for silks and satins bold
To sweep and rustle through a story.
The nightingale is sweet of song;
The rare exotic smells divinely;
And knightly men who stride along,
The role heroic carry finely.
But then, upon the other hand,
Our minds have got a way of running
To things that aren't quite so grand,
Which, maybe, we are best in shunning.
For some of us still like to see
The poor man in his dwelling narrow,
The hollyhock, the bumblebee,
The meadow lark, and chirping sparrow.
We like the man who soars and sings
With high and lofty inspiration;
But he who sings of common things
Shall always share our admiration.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Blackberry
Hey blackberry, how you taste so sweet
Hey blackberry, tell me what you see
Tell me is it interesting
Hey blackberry pay some attention to me
Hey blackberry look at my bumblebee
Hey blackberry you know he never stings
And he only hums for me
Chorus
I need some l-o-v-e-n to make me happy
You got to be l-u-c-k-y to git
With a girl like blackberry
Hey my cherry,coming up my street
Hey my cherry, you make it hard to breath
Look what youve done to me
Hey my cherry, be sure to keep your nose clean
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Natural Rhythm
Looking at a meadow, a field of spring’s delight,
with insects fluttering and twittering in flight,
chirping thought the day and in to the twilight.
The butterflies flap an unkempt melody,
contrasted by the sharp humming of a bumblebee,
all balancing an earthly composed symphony.
Even the clouds cast lightning like a conductor,
followed by a seemingly catastrophic blunder,
a raucous rumbling blast of cacophonic thunder.
Now when I look out of my window,
I see the clouds casting a shadow,
upon those fields so open and fallow.
With their grass and flowers swaying in the breeze,
matching the rhythm of the leaves,
a musical rustling amongst the trees.
The whole world seems to mimic this mime,
all moving to and fro, always in time,
as if dancing to a melodic chime.
Maybe the world is not asleep,
and the patter of rain, that the clouds do weep,
is really the Earth’s rhythmical heartbeat.
poem by Dale Mullock
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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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Pigmy seraphs—gone astray
138
Pigmy seraphs—gone astray—
Velvet people from Vevay—
Balles from some lost summer day—
Bees exclusive Coterie—
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with Emerald—
Venice could not show a check
Of a tint so lustrous meek—
Never such an Ambuscade
As of briar and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid—
I had rather wear her grace
Than an Earl's distinguished face—
I had rather dwell like her
Than be "Duke of Exeter"—
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the Bumblebee.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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October's Bright Blue Weather
O suns and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;
When loud the bumblebee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And goldenrod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fingers tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.
O sun and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Heart be still, the sun goes down
Stille, hjerte, sol går ned
(Heart be still, the sun goes down)
Heart; be still, the sun goes down,
Smiling over the meadows,
Sheep and cows are homeward bound
Through the deepening shadows,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.
Silence falls on lanes and lea,
Restless day is over;
One belated bumblebee
Drones among the clover,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.
Softly now the haze is stirred
From the lowlands lifting;
Over the treetops skims a bird,
Fleecy clouds are drifting,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.
Far to east the windows gleam
Red with flashes blinding;
Sunset coloured flows a stream
Through green pastures winding
Heart, be still, be still, sun goes down.
poem by Jeppe Aakjaer
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