Hive Mind

They slurp the pollen.
The beehive is a space.
It’s not the bees thriving.
They collect.
Musty like a buzzing cave.
Bees have eyes.
Their world is a million orbs.
Each world is pollen.
And pollen in pollen.
A bee can only be as big as their pod.
Which is a sticky place.

Hive mind.

The hive gets destroyed for being on a playground.
The bee to choose their new home?
Gets the first bit of pollen.
He rolls all over the flower petals.
As if he’ll live longer than this field of carnations.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Swan Avatar
August 9, 2026 at 12:29 AM
A field of carnations - I want to see that! As do your pollen-obsessed bees (but somehow they don't get the beauty thing, just the pollen buzz). Thoughtful and interesting. I enjoyed reading:)
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace