What Nectar is to a Bee ?
" Its drinking desire must be !"
Invitation from bloom : Bee sips in glee.
Abloom blossom to greet
bee , offering nectar as treat
to meet its appetite.
Flower and bee ! Mutual : Complementary :
Both are comfortable in floral territory.
As prime drink, bee sips nectar.
Pollen sticking to bee in flowery sector
initiating pollination at random :
Flowery wisdom !
.
Flower and bee ! Made for each other.
Nectar as bond to one another.
Within the crowded dark,
She dreams of a golden bloom.
Weaves a swift, geometric loop,
Then traces right, a graceful swoop,
To banish gloom. from the room.
And share a silent spark.
The August sun is rising high,
The lavender patch is brown and dry.
While cleaning near the pipal tree,
I found a gasping, weary bee.
Dim and grey his golden rings,
Far too slow to beat his wings.
His pollen baskets empty today,
Perhaps his hive is far away.
With love and care I picked him up,
And fed him sweet brown sugar syrup.
He quenched his thirst and stayed no more,
But wizzed through the air while I watched in awe.
**The Thorn of a Bee**
*Written by Marilou G. Taupan*
In a peaceful meadow, a bee flies freely,
Small yet liberated and useful.
But no matter how good its deeds are,
There is something it fears—its “thorn.”
Like the bee, humans also have their own “thorns.”
It is not something that literally pierces others,
But it represents the experiences they carry—
The pain, anger, and wounds of the past
That have never fully healed.
Like the bee, a person may sometimes hurt others,
Not because it is their intention,
But because they only want to defend
And protect themselves.
When you see the true “thorn” within someone,
You will understand that it belongs to a person who has been hurt,
Someone who is trying their best
Not to be wounded again.
So, when you encounter someone with a “thorn,”
Do not immediately fear or turn away.
Perhaps that thorn is the very thing that keeps them strong
When the world has tried to break them.
Because behind every hidden thorn,
There is a story of pain, hope, and perseverance.
Like the bee—its thorn does not define who it is,
But the heart that continues to soar despite everything.
Creation
A bumble bee
Busy in the buddleia bush
Getting nectar and pollen
For life all to go.
A butterfly fluttered by
Going up high
For a purpose unknown
Exploring the sky.
Below on a cabbage
A caterpillar chews
And spiders just waiting
To trap some more food.
Incredible creatures
All multiplied vast.
God’s glorious creation
Future, present, and past.
Busy bee with fuzzy wings,
Flies around and softly
sings,
Sweetest honey home she
brings!
I open my eyes, and she is gone.
I was the flower, and you, the queen bee.
Though I promised sweeter nectar, richer and deep,
You grew restless, leaving my petals to weep.
Suddenly a bird, you took to the breeze,
Soaring away, far above the trees.
I close my eyes, and she appears.
A grand eagle, slicing through the gale,
While I, a mere cloud, send a scent so frail,
Chasing your shadow, a never-ending trail.
Now, she is nowhere to be seen.
I drift into a dream once more.
Seeking new blossoms to claim and disown,
You are still a queen upon your throne.
'When those other flowers wither and die,
To another garden, you will surely fly.'
So I shall bloom no more.
A flower already withered at the core.
Let spring, summer, autumn, and winter roll by—
My petals will never again greet the sky.
Yet remember this, before your journey is done:
Your final stop, under the dying sun,
Will be the jaws of the butterwort flower—
Trapped in the carnivore's silent power.
Tell me, child, besides
Whose light your play lent
A rule, wise as twas benign-bent
Should we not farewell?
That drone, cello-like
Deeper noon's, which hour.
Whose own world of, in its honour
Insects', heard to swell.
the bee had no idea he would become a piece of time
He was not a writer, a poet, he did not do rhyme
But he was encased in amber over time
And now he is a beautiful necklace of mine
He
nourished
my soul with
his promises,
and like a rosebud,
I thirsted for the rain
of beautiful vows that fell
from luscious lips I loved to kiss.
His very presence lit up my world,
and for a while, I thrived in his garden.
Suddenly the sunshine sustaining me
became endless days of dreary gray.
I’m wilting here now, knowing that
nothing he’d told me was true.
A bee, he sweetly sees
new blooms as I die,
petals plucked. He
loves me; he
loves me
not.
Daisy Bee Faerie had the curliest brown hair
Light and lithe, she could zoom easily in the air
She loved her honey, and she loved her daisies too
She was a joy to watch, catching up with the butterflies two.
I did not think she could catch us, said the monarch fair.
He was impressed with her flying prowess in the air.
I thought those daisies might slow her down said his side kick Vee.
But then I remembered her ancestry, she has a little bee.
From Italian kitchens and Welsh poetic heights,
A champion’s mind takes flight tonight.
With ninety seconds on the clock,
He climbed the peak, Monadnock.
He spoke of stars, of Denebola's gleam,
An enthymeme left like a hidden dream.
From Brazilian Iguape trees that grow,
To Louisiana's historical Natchitoches flow.
He tasted sweet torrone on the tongue,
While Cajun fais-dodo songs were sung.
He braved an émeute, a riot loud,
To stand as a flaith before the crowd.
Beneath the sea, the
nannofossil sleeps,
While on the waves, the
tongkang leaps.
And where New Zealand’s borders meet the sea,
The red pohutukawa tree.
With letters woven, sharp and fast,
Thirty-two words from first to last,
Cywyddau rhythm in his stride—
He claimed the trophy with a scholar's pride.
The bumble bee
Is a humble bee,
And rarely does she sting
Somberly she flies
Until somebody tries,
To break her little wing
She will turn on you
If you unwisely do,
Such an unnecessary thing
Leave her upon her rose
Rather than step on her toes,
She wants to enjoy the spring
In need of a humbling quiet
More than a bumbling riot,
A hand too close can bring.
Stressing Guessing and fussing
--------------------------------------
She is evasive due to several factors.
I think she is cheating
or having an emotional link
with someone on the same level as
her husband. He wants to procreate
it's not the right time for her
due to her career goals.
The communication barrier maybe
faux, due to she has brothers and has
been married before.
She loves him there love is
strong and enduring. They are musician
also. They use alot of different terms
to get the song and sound right.
I love it when they take time to
find the tempo, the style
and language and culture of something.
Without blame they express there
feeling and they fact minded. But
Her complete loyalty to her husband
is in doubt,
she's 88/100 he's 98/100
she needs to tally up and catch up
she they can be normally happy and stay married
!
bumble bee flirts with
new gutter, drain spout resounds....
clematis blossoms
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