Honeycombs Poems | Examples

WEARY WAR-WRON WORRY

As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun
    Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees.
On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz
              With the songs of industrious bees:-
 
The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded death
                In the midst of innocent crowds,
As swollen moon struggles to peep through striated
            Wind-blown smoke and eerie clouds:-
 
             What is it in the psyche of man that 
            Pushes him to destroy his own kind?
             Can’t he see that with war upon war
             Humanity will soon run out of time?
 
   “Woe is me” cries out the blood-soaked weary land;
    When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?

weather's wrath

queens in dilemma
bees find newer colonies ---
empty honeycombs

J Is For July

Lazy days meld into one,
summer siestas just begun;

Busy bees morn 'til late,
honeycombs proliferate.

Speckled starlings sing with delight 
on July swarms in nuptial flight.

Swallows circle in storm clouds low,
a foraging airshow ,to and fro.

Cricket willow on fields green,
traditional pastimes in England seen.

Gardens parasol bedecked,
where picknicing wasps wander unchecked.

Basil spreading six feet tall
 by freshwater trickling small.

Tidelines explored on a rockpool beach,
driftwood ,stranded,bleached.

Fighting Flowers

The changing of summer flora guards
Crying April  showers, tears usher in
The  softening of wintered earth, once hard
Now loosened up as  the Earth sheds its skin

The floral fists of flowers do begin
to jab and cross through intractable mud
collective conviction of  vernal kin
inundates the Southern meadows, a flood

A triumph to see, the seasonal bud
First  flowering in  May, the bees delight
Filling their honeycombs with golden blood
Their  busy bodies’ mysterious flight

From the palette of God, landscape painted
by fighting  flowers, jabbed, crossed and feinted

Bumble Bee

Bee
yellow
bumble bee
pretty flowers
sweet nectar flowers
buzzing, drinking, sipping
honeycombs busy making
hopping from one color to the 
next takes a lot of flowers and a 
lot of bees to make the sweet sweet honey.

The Honeyed Grandeur

Clouds are the honeycombs of skyline,
Carrying the honey-sweet droplets of rainwater.
Each time rain touches our Earth,
The taste buds of soil taste the sweetness of the sky.
Every thunder-strike on the grey clouds
Orders the sky to gift more honey
To quench the thirst of all earthlings.
Every waterbody is a wondrous honeybee
Which serves the droplets of water from the honeycombs of the skyline.

Bartering With Babble Bear

Babble bear looked big and blustery and burly.
His eyes were large, and his hair was straight, not curly.
His fur was thick, and his snot was shiny and large.
He loved daisies, and the florist always said “no charge”
So, he got a bunch of honeycombs and took some in.
He put it on the counter and said, “this is a win.”
You keep giving me daisies and I will bring you honey.
It’s a lot tastier than that green yucky stuff you call money.

Why I Write Poetry, With a Pen Tip of Honey

Though medicine tastes bad and bitter as it always skitters 
On the tongue’s taste buds as the black sea on sand that glitters 
It helps and uplifts the body to get fitter 
Honey glazed on the rim of the medicine cup tastes so sweet 
To children for the body’s healing from sickness’s heat 
Gnostic teachings are tough to swallow in their obscurity 
But paintings of words illustrate all their healing beauty 
Made from the honeycombs of flowing thoughts with surety 
For the healing and release of soul and spirit 
The nectar for the bubbling spring is not from myself 
But comes from the fruits that the Father has planted himself 
So the whole cup is his work, I can’t take true credit itself 

Therefore I accept that golden ink to drip unto the page 
To make Christ’s teachings shine even more sweetly in this age 


Date: 7/17/2022
Name of contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney

The Bee

Lemon blossoms blooming
Orchards heady fragrance
Gives rise to thoughts of fruit
Globes of yellow citrus
The crop will be profuse.

 Lemon blossoms blooming
The scout has done her job
Under warm summer sun
Dripping orchard nectar
Honey bees job begun.

 Lemon blossoms blooming
Fragrant flowers entice
Those hungry honey bees'
Their hive a seething space 
So little room to breathe.

 Lemon blossoms blooming
The queen is ruling hive
Honeycombs of delight
Too many occupants
swarming bees: hasty flight.



Bee Creative
Poetry Contest
Enter Contest
Sponsored 
by: 
Matt Caliri 
24/05/2022

Lazy Summer Days

Winding brooklets fill narrow streams
into rivers of my childish dreams
Amidst the field of seeding grass,carefree
Lush clover scents the nectar seeking bee
Lazy days meld into one,
summer siestas just begun;
Busy bees morn 'til late,
honeycombs proliferate.
Speckled starlings sing with delight 
as July swarms in nuptial flight.
Swallows circle in storm clouds low,
a foraging airshow ,to and fro
Gardens parasol bedecked,
where picknicing wasps wander unchecked.
Tidelines explored on a rockpool beach,
driftwood ,stranded,bleached.
Hammock sleeping 'neath a halo'ed sun, 
a signal of September rain to come.

Seasons

Summer times; and winter season:
Lovely time and everything happening,
Blue skies and warm mornings,
Beautiful trees and green grasses
Frozen lakes and dim appearances:
Nothing but fogs and mirages

Last month went fishing with my nephew 
Last week went sailing with a few,
I guess nobody likes the oceans
Runner aways and out casts,
What a blue season:
Rainy forecast and mixed up emotions
Took days to settle;
And i was assisted by natives.

From wannabe to being sting by bees 
Honeycombs and bee traps:
Sisters with beautiful garments but dreadful spirits,
No sweetness; no wine
Just dreamless-dreams,
O what happened to the mistresses!

Boys growing up 
From summer to autumn:
The trees that once had its leaves;
Now how they departed,
Early growth but premature death
World war: man throwing tantrums!

Love Remains

I know the land where the lemon trees flower ,and the skies are blue
In this very land is where I met you
In this land of honeycombs
And cornflowers so blue
Our love blossomed as if it was true
In the land where the lemon trees flower
I will remember you 
As our love dies down and reality is found
I always did find it hard to believe in things I can not see
But in this land where the lemon trees flower
I find the truth
As rainbows collide into one being 
and we sing the unsung song
Love remains in this land 
So true


17 July 2018 
Contest title.  Pretty poem please
Sponsors name . Julia ward

Salto Salto Salto

Hop! Hop! Hop!
The stigma around hop.
The dark atmosphere laughs,
Joyous lambs,liberated calves.

The settling wind scatters like foams,
Dripping like drops of honeycombs.
The gentle breeze find its way near,
The shadows lurking among the trees are no longer there.

Nature pulling off the cloak of the climate,
Putting on her a new garment of fate.
The grey clouds in their old age retreat,
The smilling daffodils,the humming sun greet.

The dark linen left is withdrawn,
A fresh air she stretched forth like a lawn.
All natures awake to strife with fun,
Stood aright as emerged is the dawn.
       18:01:14:19:58

Beloved Sleeping

beloved sleeping

                                     angel tears falling in drops

                                         on twin honeycombs

Endless Time, Endless Beauty

Once upon a time
My lady called 
I stood mesmerized 
At ocean’s cusp

Glinting, glimmering, gleaming
Thousands of sparklers 
Dot her sequined dress 
Shouting
Look at me!
Look at me!

Breathless ripples strew pebbles at shores edge
Cormorants perch on hips of slate
Eyes of diamond reflect starry nets
Starfish mouth warm honeycombs of tide pools
Waves of breast, milky white, feed the minions
Feet of clay glue her honeyed presence 

Roaring, rumbling, ripping
Like the sea serpents
Who call her waters home
She crashes 
Into shore’s stationary sentinels 
Whose feet she laps unceasingly

Capricious as she is
This lady is not fickle
The meditative state
Which hypnotized and paralyzed
Is there 
For your embrace

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