Best Bee Poems | Poetry
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New Bee Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Bee poems are below this new poems list.
by Blade, Ross
bumble bee soldiers 2
by parker, cs
bumble bee soldiers
by parker, cs
An Bee Cailleach
by Lovejoy-Burton, Leanne
The Frenzied Bee
by Krutsinger, Caren
by Salia, Aaliyah
The Fuzzy Bubble Bee
by Krutsinger, Caren
Bee My Valentine
by Lindsey, Catie
Honey Bee Flying Around In Winter
by Phillips, Christine
My wife have a bee tattoo on her left breast,
by Klugman, Alex
View all new Bee Poems
The Best Bee Poems
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.
...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging gardens of babylon grew in sinc with the breath of the planet,
before the tower of pisa started to lean or mayan buildings were in ruin.
so you write words...any words...they might at least soothe your hurt
hold your heart in a protective shield.
you know how crippling unrequited love can be.
do you still dream of its hug...genius?
life and love share more than a first letter
(like the first letter you wrote under the veil of inspiration).
they also share good and evil...it's a flip of the coin.
either way is fine with you. you'd bathe in holy water or sell your soul.
life, love...passion...somewhere in there...it lives, genius.
all of nature a reflection through its transparent figure glows dark
like the shadows live in the radiant illumination of evening rays.
so let me speak of us!
recently when i tried to hold you...
you were like a ghost in the bright of day,
a phantom out of its element...
there was nothing of you...i could embrace.
when i tried to enter you a freezing cold ran through me like a winter brook.
you exhaled me
as if i were fog on a deserted country road invisible to absent eyes.
still you were my drug of choice.
addicted, i chased the dragon...you...genius.
memories fill me...
days when we would paint words,
stitch in a metaphor or two,
weave in music,
write instruments to fill in the spaces,
ordain a voice.
you wanted to taste me
i was overwhelmed
how you put your fingers on my lips
how you licked them...you...genius.
you were that giant pine i would climb in the dead of winter
(why do they say that "the dead of winter"? winter will die
when hell freezes over. winter isn't death it's purgatory.)
the one with the needles that punctures human skin.
come to me again and touch me...
like the butterfly does the wind...barely but thoroughly.
(is it true that just a tiny flutter of their wings could be
the start of a hurricane? are the icebergs melting?)
i didn't just write that out loud...did i...with you I'm shy...genius.
don't show yourself.
don't speak to me.
don't bother with rising the sun today.
forget those showers you create your magic arc with,
vacuum away all the plants.
lower your wall of blue.
i'm not interested anymore in those pillowy shapes i use to love so.
i've always known it is fire that cleanses, water that burns,
it is the moon that breaks the heart,
the stars that slaps the face...with...i don't know...reality.
i've always known by the time we see a star...
in real time...it's already extinguished...already dead.
it is our friends that will use us...our heroes that will lie to our face...
our blood will betray our trust...our teachers will fail us...
our leaders treat us like just another job...
the devout that will exhibit hatred.
still i believe. no matter what else...the rose will always survive.
the petals deceiving. they will repel all that is unholy.
grab it by the neck and squeeze out its black ooze,
leaving a gentle soul there to admire its adversary.
don't even get me started on the orchid
or even the flowers all...alphabetically.
i dare confront the beauty of nature's art unframed...
canvas loose to admire...genius!
i miss you but i am out of tears.
do drop in though.
i can offer you a cup of dry warmth...
soothing like burning logs that crackle with laughter.
take you to my secret place.
behind the camouflage of forests dense,
where vines grow through spiral staircases
made of turtle shells and dressed in discarded snake skins.
green is the theme there. it is everywhere,
unabridged, unabated, unaffected, undisturbed
with a fuming, burning, yearning to be touched.
so let's...let's grab...hold...squeeze..
feel free from the cheap paradigm offered.
i don't think you know, even while you sleep, i hold your hand, genius.
dream a full rainbow on a fingernail moon night,
feel february twenty ninth its absolute might,
taste fully the slight of a pheasant in flight,
yearn eternal life, wish a vampire's bite,
concoct rhymes nicely fluffed with built in sight.
on this sombre morning the sun is blinding.
damn my eyes.
there is a negative entity drapes our children's world.
shame on us...shame on you...i need you.
i am reduced to an objective observer.
life glides on the little wings of its carrier,
its final resting point in the hands of the wind.
another life carried away on a worker bee,
busy stealing nectar from a succulent bud.
a stowaway hangs on for dear life to the flyers leg.
gets off at the next flower.
meets up with a companion to create a new life.
everything changed when I met you.
was the sun rising or the mountain sinking.
was that an orange globe against a blue sky
or a lit round hole in a sad wisp of air.
i'll play a keyless piano if you'll paint me a horizon I can reach.
i'll sing you a ballad with a single note...
i walked into my life without consideration.
all the same...
when do I get a choice.
when will they stop holding death over my head.
if i could direct a few more plays with you as my guide...
my art, my life! genius i long for your influence...
even one last time to see your face,
unite and give you one last kiss...goodnight.
April 1 2015
Contest Name:A Million Dollar Poem
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.
Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.
The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.
Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.
The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.
I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.
Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.
The house my children grew up in.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
Best of 2014 1st place
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
He was not a humble man
Everything he did, was big and grand
He taunted and barbed with poetic flair
His opponents he angered
Entertainment in the air
He was a legend, bigger than man
A champion in the ring
He often took a heroic stand
Breaking barriers of narrow minds
He defined his style in his own time
His greatest feats were not title wins
Nor his taunts and bragging sins
Inside there was a more humble man
Who stood for the downtrodden in troubled lands
Full of humility he still could sting like a bee
In the end he floats away
A softer man, of a fighter’s heart
So shed a tear, for this complex legend
Whose humble beginnings’
The butterfly brought home to his roots
God brought him back to his beginning
Cassius Clay he was… and now lives in eternity
Freed not by name
But by convictions... of his
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
silence of a bee in the forest
silence of the leaves
leaves on majestic trees
leaves my soul quivering
quivering happiness and joy
joy of freedom and journeying on
joy in my soul beyond time
time entangled in vines
time to pause in the emerald
emerald windswept meadows trembling
emerald velvet foliage creeping
creeping and creeping the embroidery of green
creeping sunlight fills the shadows
shadows are where the violets sleep
shadows hide a hundred chirping wings
wings of the poets dreamy muse
wings of a little butterfly kissing the decay
decay in the tangled branches
decay beautiful and divine
divine tufts of yellow
divine bliss in silence
silence in the garlands of green
silence in hushed echoes
echoes of unseen songsters
echoes of wild streams bubbling and flowing
flowing words and verses
verse amongst the scattered dandelions
verses in the whispering calm
calm the clusters of vines twining
calm the bliss
bliss in a deep canopy of towering giants
bliss under an azure above
above the cowslip and foxglove
above blue birds fly
fly downy wings
fly with the sweet wind
wind that whispers in my ears
wind that lifts the tufts of pretty flowers
flowers wilted and dying
flowers with petals forlorn
forlorn my poetic words
forlorn and weeping
weeping on tattered paper in solitude
weeping poems and rhymes and verses
created in the silence
solitude . . .
May 23, 2015
Submitted to the contest, shhhhh , sponsor, Silent One
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
Remembered In Thy Full Bloom
A Collaboration By,
Robert Lindley, Teppo Gren
and Michael P Clarke.
Thou art remembered in thy full bloom,
a rose grown within my garden of life.
Thou art lost to me and this my doom,
Gone the tender love of my precious wife.
Ill wind had blown, poisoned arrows of fate,
love lost, ever I cry, we reunite.
Tho', should such be only at Heaven's gate,
illuminated, in true love's precious flight.
Thine effect so lives in my lonesome cast
as I meander in my ruthless path,
in darkened dust of my ill-fated past,
dying to break free from this endless wrath.
Yet memories sighs they recall our love,
when we did caress love's fiery desires.
In wondrous passions our hearts flew above,
Thou art memories ghost, kindling love's fires.
Pray I, your dream-winds soft and fair tonight,
eager heart leaps to melt in beauty's glows.
With yellow-moon kisses, all could be right,
our love's truth, written in destiny's scrolls.
As lonely spirits found love's true accord,
thy gentle soul caressed my heart with joy.
It was thy gracious beauty I adored,
for endless days thy soft caress enjoy.
Thou comest beloved, love for to bring,
thy wondrous beauty, darkness doth dispel.
In divinity thy heart it doth sing,
one moment of joy my heart did foretell.
Within each heart's spirit, desire to come
pray future treasures that announce their glow.
Thy touch, paradise in love's kingdom,
may we with grace, beg our romance to grow.
The light of life returned from dust to dust
be it not my destiny to abide,
and side with mortal ways in life unjust,
with a forlorn dream to be by my side.
Now back to the terror of my dark night,
once more into the pits of hell I fall.
Despair and sorrow darken God's bright light,
Deaths promised joys shall come, I hear death call.
Pray true, warmth and true color to the rose,
return pure gleam that sent my heart to thee.
Wherein all time, forever thee I chose,
thou art ripest flower, I thy lone bee.
Rejoice in death to treasure thine embrace
as end is nigh, with courage to depart.
A halo uncovers thy beauty's grace
to cast celestial light, and mend my heart.
And now doth come my end, I see death's light,
death doth touch my heart, now eternal love.
My beloved, I see thee shining bright,
I now praise death as I ascend above.
As my life's last shadow so swiftly falls,
pray I, this aching soul hears thy dear voice.
Ancient echoes whisper love words, thy calls,
now dear wife, I fly forth, your love my choice.
In heaven‘s garden thy rose blooms in trine,
as love’s eternal bond in sacred love
is cast beyond the faith of God’s design,
and prayers of truth are whispered up above.
Robert Lindley,Teppo Gren,
and Michael P Clarke.
This poem was written to try and find the sadness of a man lost in deep despair. His only escape are those small moments when his memories sigh his beloved to him. He is ready to welcome death so he can be with and hold his beloved again. Death will be a release.
I want to thank Micheal and Teppo, for the great pleasure it has been to
engage in this three way collaboration! Both for giving me such exquisite verses to write to and with...
I know this poem is long and took us a long time to complete, but to me it is well worth it .
As I could not be happier or any more proud of what our combined efforts have thus created.
I hope this fine poem gifts and pleases those that read it.. For such is the reward that any poet should hope for.
Mike and Teppo, my good friends may God bless you both..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
We dabbled our toes in soft summer air, speckled with thistle, dancing ...
Pressing our backs to the meadow, bare
Honey-dew sweet, our bee-tickled feet
Your tortoise-shell eyes, entrancing ...
Skin touching skin, too wilful for glancing.
(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ... then ...
We blew our kisses to cauliflower clouds, swimming in van Gogh grasses ...
Curtsying sunflowers waving their shrouds
The lemon sun shined on our virtues, entwined
Your scent sweet as warm molasses ...
Lips brushing lips, amidst giggled passes.
(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ... then ...
We spun with sparrows, a strain, to the sky, plucked with an eager intent ...
Born upon wings as a burgeoning sigh
Hot-spice afternoon, thus charmed us to swoon
Too impatient to care what it meant ...
Wherever urge led us, we heedlessly went.
(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ...
How we tasted life's TRUTH ... being young.
* FIFTH PLACE in the "February 2018 Premiere" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. *
* SECOND PLACE in the "Best Rhyming Poem October thru December 2017" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor. *
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
A harsh wind bites.
The signals are there for those
who understand; those who can
read the fauna and flora like a map.
Navigating through the forest…
Acorns are being stored under a
Shards of light pierce through
Evergreens wrap themselves
in a nice warm coat.
The snow arrives on iridescent
wings, stretching it’s arms and
cloaking all in sight.
A silence creeps in, it’s heart
slows to a single beat of a
dying honey bee…
Copyright © David Williams | Year Posted 2015
When morning breaks in shades of wine...
with claret skies to blush the dawn...
I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
for this polished, apple day
I will wait until the sun is high, where dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........the quest begins,
to seek my small reward
It happens slowly...
gathering reason from an untamed mind
Up into the meadow where the brambles climb
twisted and tangled, through burgandy vines
while deftly my fingers, will probe the maze
and reach for wild berries,.....warm from the haze
Then, thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
Finger painting my faded blue jeans
Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?
I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
plucking small bits of reason and sanity
taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
feeling alive, on a wild-flowered hill
Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler,
oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
dripping blood droplots onto my chin
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine,
as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine
Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
counting vermillion clouds that are spun
then heading back home, with the red crimson sun
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: "Colours"
Resubmitted to Skat's contest:
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
Lemme tell ya' about a
I met her one night
under disco lights
up at Candies
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see
if I wanted a piece
by way of flashin' granny panties
actin' a fool
took a shot
and one tiny glance
but got caught
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"
"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl"
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"
Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to
"Get this he/she outta the place!"
My pleas were to no avail,
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail
Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked,
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
to hit the bricks,
and yir' Granny Panties!"
At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me
I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!
It's a night I thought would never end...
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
battle of the sexes
~~MONA LISA SMILE
Picture Oil painting worthwhile
Leonardo DA Vinci, look out!
What is she really smiling about?
(((The popularity of the Mona Lisa increased in the mid 19th century
because of the Symbolist movement. The painting was thought to
encompass a sort of feminine mystique.)))
~~JAMES EARL JONES
His award winning voice, rough like stones
Darth Vader, Mufasa, stuttering jubilee
When I die can he be the one narrating my eulogy?
(((I love James, I'm a star wars freak... <--- yup that's me)))
~~SADDAM AND BIN LADEN
Were very bad, bad men
Causing chaos throughout America & Afghanistan,
HATERS OF THE USA: they should be called the Arab ku klux klan
(((Occupation: Terrorist~ makes me wonder if they went to the same school.)))
The world worse killer
Commander of the oxymoron Nazi
Losing at his own game of Yahtzee
(((The Most Hated Murderer of all time)))
~~YOUNG ANNE FRANK
Her diary worth more than any bank
Famous Jewish victims of the Holocaust
Her legacy teaches that hate is an exhaust
(((Anne Frank's diary remains one of the most moving and widely read
accounts of the Jewish experience during the Holocaust.)))
~~JOAN OF ARC
Angel in an era so dark
an epic hundred year war
her visions is what she payed for.
(((Joan of Arc, also called the Maid of Orleans, a patron saint of France
and a national heroine, led the resistance to the English invasion.)))
Can really sing
Stand by me...
But, can he sting like a bee
(((BB KING~ could not help but wonder if he was a lover and a fighter.)))
Is no piano sonata,
Madonna wannabe, is she.
Watching her videos make me laugh till I pee.
(((Lady Gaga is Unique as can be!)))
for battle of the clerihew
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
at the break of dawn
a Hummingbird starts his rounds
Morning Glory sought
flaunting a red hue -
Mexican Sunflower tempts
looking hot, hot, hot
the Don Juan of birds
sucking nectar from Beardtongue. . .
drunk on French kisses
Goldenrod at noon. . .
Zephyr carries a sweet scent
beneath a gold sun
between Rose bushes
the Flower Kisser gets lost
in Blue Infinity
Sweet Pea and Bee Balm
entice with purple petals. . .
Bees join the orgy
Monarchs swarm in droves
when blue Hummingbird alights
on Butterfly Bush
waving in the dusk’s last breeze. . .
the proper lover
the Flower Kisser
leaves his harem sated as
white Moonflower glows
*The capitalized names for flowers
represent some of the most popular
flowers visited by hummingbirds.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
If the leaf wore a tree
And the ocean ate fish;
If a flower sucked the bee
And beans ate the dish;
If a beggar was chief
And a boy was a girl
A song would be brief
If a bird wore a curl.
If the grass chewed the cow
And night turned to day
I'm wondering how
Work might be play.
Wouldn't it be great
If the sun was the moon
If early was late
And a line lost its tune.
If all of these things
Were natural to do;
Then a song wouldn't sing
And teeth wouldn't chew.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
I am going to have a few more bites.
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
fill the sheet)
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
ansir; yes- please)
?why m i bein so polite
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
i mean hungary
h u n g r y
those look good
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
two bee contitnude<
hay lookk browniies
Mo Rice Why Vone
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
Floating across rivers, valleys, and streams
I'm thinking of living inside of your dreams
Run barefoot through nature, you chasing me
End up tripping and falling in love by the sea
We're two eagles that fly, soaring high in the sky
Let the wind take our bodies, as life passes on by
You're a delicate flower, I'm a young honey bee
Sucking your nectar and starting a new family tree
Sliding down rainbows after a warm springtime mist
Laughter and giggles when on your cheek I plant my kiss
Your dream will not end having me inside you
Our days will get brighter and our night times will too
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015
It bounced off the truck
And then rolled down the highway
How 'bout them apples
When Jonathan McIntosh
Won the spelling bee
Apple of my eye
Jenny had the sweetest smile
For another guy
Right down to the core
When that apple crossed the plate
An infield dribble
Just one little hole
In that shiny red apple
Just one little worm
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2008
Thinking back to my teenage years
my early twenties, falling in love
was so easy.
Truth was a tightrope
of winks and smiles,
of the promise of tomorrow
and today was just fine.
in its wondrous ignorance
sees art were cans of paint
on a cloth of filth has spilt.
Poetry with a guitar,
the weed that drove
us to the depths of revelations.
Dreams that lived in an endless
stream of contradictions.
The Bee Gees asked
"How do you mend
a broken heart?"
Oh the broken hearts
I survived with all its drama.
The letters I would write.
She was Bunny
and I was Rab, short
“Hearts heal, but your walk
loses a step or two, it loses its flare.
I miss you so much I just want to die!
What happened to us?
It boggles my mind how easily
you let go of US!
Tears flow as I write.
I guess I will survive
but as so much less than I was!
I love you with every beat that is me,
with every drop of blood that I have.
I am only half.
Without you there is no I.
Say Goodbye to who we were for me.
Say it one last time.
Say Goodbye to every part of you
that I will never touch again.
I let you fly and you never came back.
You were never mine.”
Of course I would never send it.
Within days I would be dipping
the little redhead’s pigtail in ink.
Those were the days my friend
we thought they would never end.
That was love way back then.
You would climb a mountain with
your bare hands, change your mind
and ride the crest of a wave you caught.
Who knew way back then
in the throes of my anguish,
in the pain of my lost loves,
who knew how grand it was
to be young and in love.
Can you taste Black Cat Gum in the air
it is the perfume of our youth, God Bless!
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
I bequeath to you my poems,
For words are all I own--
May the images of snow and fall
Bring you comfort when alone.
And I will leave you all of it;
The moonlight on the moor--
As well the quiet, leafy wood,
Or a sunbathed distant shore.
And among the rhyme and imagery;
The metaphor, and theme--
You'll read of rose and morning dew,
Of midnight naps, and dream.
And somewhere in between the lines
The fantasy turns real--
So take these words I proffer you,
And touch, and taste, and feel.
Amazing are the things you'll see,
Like the ivy-covered wall--
Or the icy streams of diamond
And the spill of waterfall.
So enchanting is the moonlight,
So too the autumn breeze--
Oh how I'll miss the butterflies
And the stand of ancient trees.
So precious is the lily pond,
The wildflowers too--
Take comfort in the song of rain
And the pansies playful hue.
How amazing is the hummingbird
In uncertain, frenzied flight--
Reminds me of the dawn and eve
As they argue, day or night.
And in the valley of the glen,
Where stands the steeple church--
There remains a knee-high meadow,
And a lovely stand of birch.
So Immerse yourself in wondering,
Set your spirit to the sky--
Behold as children, puffs of cloud;
The bee and butterfly.
And let your palette taste the wind,
Hear the quiet of the snow--
While delighting in the jasmine;
The sweetest scent I know.
Take my words and nurture them,
Kindly revel in my dream--
And keep alive the buttercup,
As well the mountain stream.
May you sleep the night, and linger;
That my dream may carry on--
Give life to every word and thought
Till the images are gone.
May you celebrate the beauty;
May you open every door--
Till the sun is swallowed by the sea,
And my poems are, no more.
Copyright © Mel Merrill | Year Posted 2014
Campfire And Tall Tails
Friends and sons come walking into the campsite all dress in camo from their long day’s hunt
Around the crackling campfire, they all gather and sat to warm their much-needed cold wet bodies
Keeping warm with a bottle of Jack Daniels or Black Velvet, and a can of Mountain Dew being passed around
Adding more wood to the campfire so it would last through the night
With the sons poking sticks into the embers and watching the flame spark, pop, and dance in their sight, while others roast marshmallows at the end of their sticks
The men are fixing their evening meal for all to feast on
They all gather around the campfire and sit,
Teasing and telling stories of their day’s adventure out in the woods,
Of a long, exhausting hike around the mountain,
With a vision of elk with a large crown of horns
The stories are told big and small
of the one they saw and had in their cross hairs, but a calf with its mother
who walked in front spoiling their shot
Or a bee that stung their hand when they were ready to pull the trigger
When they‘re all done, they crawl into their sleeping bags so they can do it all over again the next day,
Watching the campfire and teasing and telling their stories
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014
Early in the mourning she rose
She wood fined her boat
Wear she rose across the see two the sure
Their she mustard all her mite
And toad the boat on the beech
Butt if the thyme was write she tide it two a boy
She could hardly weight
Four she nose she will sea her suite sun
They wood sit on a bolder, brake sum bred
Then they eight a hole pair
Her sun called her a deer
He tolled her when he urns enough doe
Ore got sum tacks witch was dew
He wood by her a flour at the bizarre
Witch could be tide in her hare
The cent of the rows wood bee sew sheikh
One knight he said she wood prophet
If she past buy a different root
He new the currant could get ruff
The whether was no longer fare and getting two chilli
She road away into the missed
Aisle meat ewe next weak he balled until he was horse
He trussed he wood see her next weak
Only Homo’s ‘Aloud’ – Jerry T Curtis
23rd March 2015
~awarded 1st place
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Winter finally exhales its last frozen breath
as I inhale victory over our duel with death.
Slowly, the snow melts from its deep drifts,
as we cross life's bridge and seek Spring's gifts.
I rise from my bed where I had lain for weeks,
tiptoe to the cradle to see the blush on her cheeks.
Pink glow of health, my child peacefully sleeps
and breathes easy where death no longer creeps.
Finally, life smiles and gives us another chance
as Spring renews the earth in her colorful dance.
Tulips, clover, wisteria in profusion everywhere.
Life is more beautiful when its been given a scare.
Through an opened window, my eyes partake
Irises budding on the banks of the thawed lake.
Water hyacinths being visited by the honey bee.
Visions of Spring I thought I'd never again see.
Baby birds in their nests, call their mothers to be fed.
My little daughter's cheeks are becoming scarlet red.
I'll nurse her hunger with motherly love, missing so long,
while kittens purr, and robins sing an enchanting song.
How glorious it feels to be well and so vibrantly alive.
My precious child and I will now blossom and thrive.
A sun drenched pasture is one of the season's charms.
Tomorrow I'll walk in clover with my babe in my arms.
A prayer to give thanks for this sunshine flowery day
and restored life that almost took hers and mine away.
My garden's finery lavishly adorns sweet Mother Earth.
It's a daffodil day! A time to enjoy Spring's new birth.
Spring, an appropriate name I've chosen for my child.
Precious infant nurtured when Winter winds turned mild.
Ruffles of pink adorn you like the petals of a cabbage rose.
I promise to keep you safe, so close your eyes and doze.
Nymph of my heart, I pray that you become a lovely flower.
Grow into a woman, sweet as jasmine on a garden bower.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Contest was finalized on 4/13/16 Written on 3/20/16
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
Words in italic by Angeline Lim
Words in regular font by Timothy Hicks
blooming in seven colors
versatile at heart
Storm clouds in a tantrum and yet
Gently wipes away a facade
reveals a layer
Pretty just like yesterday
on lovers' palates
The shared spaghetti noodle
into a sweet dream
'tween the slits of enclosed fingers
flashes of a firefly
Smolders of passion
Instead of the bee
her tender touch
all the yellow once in the field
now in the moon
of a crystallized Rose quartz
The snowy hills
at this time a strange warmth
pop their cheerful heads up kisses blown
to be King Arthur
opening lips with an exclamation
there goes the evidence
of the snail
Spiraling down a Corkscrew vine
into a time portal
P.S. Haven't been on lately ... hope all is well with everyone :)
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
We are in our fall before the season comes
Misting eyes and dropping a dandy heart
A sullen silence around the bee hive hums
History has no center left, facts fall apart
I have nothing left for honey but my words
Listening cleanse the eyes to see forever
Soon the sky flocks with all departing birds
Old bonds are unbroken, new loves sever
But to come again in heat and passion and lie
Cradled against the unknown of life's tomorrows
So summer goes, and sweet flowers will die
To bloom again as carpet for graves of sorrows.
Soon gold will fall from trees in a gray misty shroud
And all that was green will be brown and dim
And wild grass will bow where the land was ploughed
And wind will tap on its trumpet life's requiem
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
Out of time that's long forgotten,
in a light that's yet unknown,
you could see me in the morning,
I would be there, but alone,
weaving tapestries from fibers
of someone who'd never guess,
she is part of dreams and vision,
and somebody's happiness.
But she would know someone was there.
I'd touch her now if I would dare.
And she would know I'm always there.
There's a story and it's Celtic,
"We must love all things, to see
how a raindrop loves the flower,
but the flower loves a bee."
In the tapestry I'm weaving,
I have told this story well,
and the dream she is a part of,
is the other tale I tell.
She knows someone has touched her mind.
I'm always there for her to find.
And she is always on my mind.
It's a love beyond a question,
but a love that's out of place,
out of time and out of reason,
but unable to erase.
In the tapestry I'm weaving ,
there's no differences to see,
she is rising from the ocean
to a love God's meant to be.
...And she has known a love that's good.
.....Though it is never understood.
........But she'll remember love is good.
© ron wilson
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2012
The red ripe apple of the sinful tree,
The honey suckle of the bumble bee.
The pink blushed rose Of the secret garden,
The stubborn spoilt lass,never in pardon.
The youngest daughter of the honeyed sun.
The castle dream girl in Sands Of fun.
The jealous lover of the crescent moon,
The blowing Wind in strong monsoon.
The first white swan in the silver lake,
The seizmic tremor of each earthquake.
The scarlet love bird on each window pane,
The falling tear drop of crystal rain.
The candle's flicker of each passionate flame,
The Mystery!mademoiselle,madam,or dame?
The Copper butterfly in each Serene Meadow,
The Sunday church girl in White snow's shadow.
The brown eyed maiden of deep blue Seas,
The pretty Woman of soft strawberries.
The old fashioned lady in sweet proposal,
The gold stringed harp in music's motion.
The colored Smile on rainbow's face,
The flamenco dancer covered in lace.
The little Mermaid in pirates'streams,
The wafting wave in glittered gleams.
The twinkling Star Of black silk skies,
The lanterne light Of fire flies.
The Cindirella in glass slippers,
The happy verse of each romance.
The grown up baby who easy cries
The grown up lady who easy smiles.
The wishing feather of a flying free dove,
The Veiled young lady in the 'Power Of love'.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2010
So professional in his lies - So ruthless in his ambition
Feeding lies to the simple folk - convincing in his deception
Telling them they live on toxic farm land - succeeds in striking fear
Cutting ties they sob in sorrow - selling up farmland they hold dear
His visions now come to fruition he's the land owner for miles around
Success surpasses his wildest dreams and exuberance exceeds all bounds
Amazed at peoples gullibility of seeing things in black and white
To his personal sins of omission he’s dispassionate in his sight
An affluent developer now more ill-gotten gains then he’s ever dreamed
Blinded to his own appalling self-deception - so steeped in what he’s schemed
No compunction or scruples - not one bit - despair and heartbreak left in his wake
Let the ignorant be blissfully blind in their slumber - best not to awake
In his haste to erect complexes cheap materials he substitutes
Waterways became fast dumping grounds which he so stealthily pollutes
Disregard of public health - quick profits so enticing within his reach
Indifferent to the major far reaching consequences of his breach
For many long years living the shallow life of Carpe diem excites
Till one day to the bafflement of all sickness in the town strikes
The most vulnerable of them the children the first to get ill
Professionals get summoned and asked the causes and will it kill?
He looks to the skies, resolve of the issue seeks heavenly help.
But the lie that he has so blatantly spread has manifested itself
The toxicity is in the water - results of the tests come back to haunt
Karma has a way of working in circles and returning to taunt
Overnight he is a ruined man worried people flee in droves
Bad news has a way of travelling fast as awareness grows
At his shame people scornfully laugh no matter where he goes
Looking to the Universe - in desperation he implores
It speaks to him in soulful whispers to make Right a Wrong
Enthusiasm at first to do so dies before too long
To go out in all humbleness and preach elicits doubt
Tortured fears of inadequacy germinate and sprout
His own fears his incompetence returns in falling tears
A difference he could make by standing up to his fears
Baring his soul can he reveal the folly of his life?
But his courage deserts him - as for resolve - it takes flight
Past youthful dreams and hopes like recurring tunes maddeningly play
Lies of yesterday ricochet - becoming his life’s regret today
Magnitude of taking innocent lives is now his daily burden
Now he faces his ultimate challenge before the final curtain
One last thing before he dies perhaps a truthful book he will write
Of his mistakes accept blame and confess to show he is contrite
Perhaps through his repentance consolation to his soul will give
Deaths parting gift to humanity be absolved as they live and forgive
Synopsis of Song ‘I Started A Joke’:
Written by Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb the song is supposedly about someone who has done or said something horribly wrong, which results in feelings of social alienation. Robin Gibb talked in 2009 about "I Started a Joke". The listeners have to interpret it themselves, trying to explain it would detract from the song" The hauntingly beautiful melody brings the ballad up to one of the top 2 or 3 songs that the Bee Gees have ever written.
Above example for ‘I Started a Joke Contest’
POTD 21 November 2017
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017