(“Honeybee on Apple Blossom”, 2020, original pen and ink)
Homing Bees
Up before dawn
To bring home the bees,
Last evening’s swarm
So full and feisty,
And nestled in
Their new hive
They seem contented
Distracted and without concern
That in the end
They have only
Travelled a few feet
From their old home.
(7/3/25)
Q: Bees Bees Who Needs Bees,
Who Even Needs the Knees of Bees.
A: You need bees and I need bees
We all need bees to be.
Beekeepers become bafflingly bitter
Bearing bee bites between binges.
Beekeepers become bigots by being biggest
Bee braggers beyond Bolivia.
Beyond beauty of busy, buzzing
Beauteous bumbling bees, beekeepers be
Befuddled by basic beekeeping bonuses.
Besides bigotry, and biases, beekeepers be
baffled and bamboozled by brother bees being
brilliantly brittle by banjo belting.
(This is a fictional poem)
I eat flapjacks every morning and I like them with honey.
But I'm really cheap and I don't like to spend money.
I wanted free honey so I bought a beehive.
One hundred bees stung me at once and I'm lucky to be alive.
A few of the bees stung me in my ears.
You'll have to talk louder because it's hard for me to hear.
Ten bees flew up my pants legs and stung my *****.
They had me hopping all around, you should've seen us.
When I got out of the hospital, I decided to set fire to my bees.
But some of them escaped and they stung the hell out of me.
Take it from me, it's awful to get stung.
One of the bees flew in my mouth and attacked my tongue.
Now I have problems hearing and speaking.
I learned the hard way that I shouldn't have taken up beekeeping.
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