Long Bumble Poems
Long Bumble Poems. Below are the most popular long Bumble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bumble poems by poem length and keyword.
From birth we see the the world all bright and blurry
Colours there sparkling for our eyes
The brain free to make sense of this spectrum slurry
What is this colour what is your form
You are not the object I see
Absorption, reflection a spectrum is born
Colour you set me free
Our Sun the source of all we see
Flowers in colours to attract there bee
Illusion or not its up to us
Red green blue we can mimic and trust
Black and white world how boring you are
We had to have colour our poor grandma
Prints in cases time captured
Black and white our perception raptures
Colour you have such an influence on us
How would we know our bus
Food you have colour but right it must be
Green toast would seem odd and would’nt taste right to me
Colour you are so many things
Danger, stop, go and standby
Blue is the colour of our sky
Life as we know it is guided by you
Motorway signs all painted in blue
Red is our danger yellow too
Blue is our comfort thank you
Green is our pleasure our food
So many colours can change our mood
Red, Green and blue and all in between
We are so lucky to observe this scene
Life is so wonderful with you to see
Just think what its like for the bumble bee.
If I could be a plant, I would be a cauliflower, or a cabbage, or a flower.
Maybe just a flower, as they are not usually consumed.
But which one?
The daffodil is so arrogant and sunny, leading the spring parade, heralding Easter.
Perhaps a daffodil.
The lilac is so dainty and fragrant, and one of the first delights but she is gone so fast.
Almost before she fully blooms.
The geranium lasts all summer, unless she gets too hot.
The last few years the heat has not been kind to her.
The violets pop up where ever they want to pop, so close to the ground, even the
Lawnmowers do not touch them. They are lithe and light and encourage faerie visits.
I might want to be a violet.
But wait, what is that rabbit eating?
The marigolds are pretty and gay, variegated with color, perky and personable.
I could see being an orange and yellow marigold, with secret compartments.
Of course I would not come back next summer, being an annual.
Roses are revered by almost everyone, but the thorns are so exasperating!
I cannot see wanting to house thorns on my branches.
I am now considering the crepe myrtle. Beautiful, healthy, tall, statuesque,
But not as statuesque as the gorgeous Rose of Sharon.
Both get to be in the sun, and I do love that so.
Every year, I could grow tall and thick, be amazing to look at,
A home to wasps and bumble bees and butterflies.
Um…all bunnies do not eat violets, right?
Meet the ‘rents (A bee movie)
As Humble left the honeycomb, now a bee,
He was accompanied by a guard with a kind heart.
The guards name was Bee-Real, a real gentleman, you’ll see
And he said “Follow me. I’ll take you to where your new parents are.”
There was a little room and as Humble went inside,
There were a pair of bees waiting for Humbles arrival…
We have been waiting for you, the lady bee said with a smile.
How do you do? Said the male.
Humble was left confused and in a state of bedazzle.
It’s a pleasure to meet you Humble…
This is your new mother ‘Bakes-a-good-crumble’;
And I am your father ‘Dude’.
We’ve have been waiting to meet you.
We are your new relative bees.
Welcome to the Bumble family.
We are going to look after you, is there anything you want to know?
Who are you?
We are the people who will raise you as our own.
We will welcome you, with loving arms, into our home.
The Queen Bee cannot look after,
The 2000 bees she has created today.
So we are your adoptive parents. Is that ok?
I’m one of two thousand offspring?
Yes Humble, one of two thousand bees born today,
But one in a million to us Humble…come give us a hug…we don’t sting.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
[Postscript: Ah, the vagaries of English. In England, your bum is your bottom... not the scruffy bloke who lives in your shed!]
I got up and Daddy said Good morning Sonny
Sit down for breakfast, we’ve got bread and honey
I asked him where honey comes from ’cause it’s yum
He told me it comes from a bumble bee’s bum
So I asked my teacher, she told me it’s true
It is pretty much like what your dad said to you
What bees eat at one end they quickly discover
That sweet tasting honey comes out of the other
Next morning to prove I’m a grown up lad
I got up first to make breakfast for Dad
I made bread and honey the best I was able
And then Dad came down and he sat at the table
He took a big bite and his jaw dropped a little
Then he coughed it all out with a shower of spittle
It’s okay I said if it tastes a bit funny
I thought for a change we’d have Rottweiler honey
[Footnote: In case I’ve just put everyone off their honey, I consider it my civic duty to point out that honey ISN’T bee poop........ It’s bee vomit. Enjoy your breakfast!]
A gardener planted several seeds
Amongst a pile of grass and weeds
In hopes that they would never grow.
Still time ticked on and continued so.
Rain drops fell from skies of gray
Eventually letting light give way
And against the odds a flower grew
As a sacred stem began to shew.
Soon a bulb began to form
As time went on like a raging storm.
The bulb revealed a satin rose.
How it survived nobody knows.
The rose danced in the gentle breeze
As pollen was brought by bumble-bees.
Still the gardener did not know
That the satin rose continued to grow.
The rose stood up with elegant pose
Destined with greatness with which God chose.
A precious life amongst the weeds
Innocence born from sacred seeds.
One sunny day the gardener came out
To see if or if not the roses had sprout.
Like a surprised child she happened to see
A fragile rose as lively as a tree.
Quickly she lit a fiery flame
And what she did next was a terrible shame.
With a sudden flick and a hurried flash
The rose turned into lifeless ash.
Oh, oh, to the death of a rose.
Why she killed it, God only knows.
Oh, oh, to the death of a rose.
Why she killed it, God only knows.
Oh, oh, to the death of a rose.
Why she killed it, God only knows.
Ask yourself, " Who's really free? "
other than a Bumble Bee?
We are obliged by something,
be it commitment or obligation;
guilt is never quenched by change,
we must show enough reason
before exploding in mad rage...
never admitting we are wrong!
Ask yourself, " Who's really free? "
Is that somebody who wants all
and ends up with none in his palm,
even if he knows it's his downfall;
no tears can undo the harm!
Ask yourself, " Who's really free? "
the one who's willing to forgive,
or the one who's acts with pretense?
Don't expect compassion from a faker,
all his promises disappear in vapor...
when he can't shake apples off his tree!
Ask yourself, " Who's really free, "
if not the heartless and silly fool?
Does remorse chock his throat,
make him a prisoner of guilt,
of the lowest moral degree?
He's another spinning spool!
Ask yourself, " Who's really free...
is someone who has ever been false
can he expect to be given a thing?
He's taken all without any feeling...
only rejection makes him feel worse!
Ask yourself, " Who's really free? "
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVyK77tUzFk
The simplicity of a flower makes us realize that life is also straightforward
it is us who complicate the matter by insisting on our own determined way
Look at the way the bumble bee tumbles and lands on the chosen flower
I am sure it did not stop to think of all the things that ought to be done;
The will of the wind, the will of the soul , both are flying high in the sky
so when life's turbulence arrives at your door, will it be push or pull ?
Lets ease into it with easiness mindful but free of complexity
Lets live life with the winds on our back and not like a willful child
Lets laugh a little while we are here and make our nest in nature
Lets love the best we know how, and go back to school once in a while
The simplicity of a flower makes us realize that life should never be forced
it is meant to be lived uncomplicated, truthfully honest and un-coerced .
The sneaky, slimy, slithering, squirming snake silently sat shamefully,
Stupendously-stumped.
The seated, sizzling, sneaky, slimy, slithering serpent still stupendously-stumped,
Squirmed slowly searching signaling scents.
With no stopping the squirming, silently-sneaky, slithering, shamefully-stumped serpent searching sign, the snake slithers sizzling surround sound.
Only with punishment, the slithering, slimy, silent, shamefully-stumped serpent stops sin-searching.
Now, be a bumble bee, buzzling big bumble bubbles and not a sneaky, slimy, squirmy, sin-searching, soul-scary, shamefully-stumped surround sound serpent-sizzling, sazzling, skimmed-scaled snake..•
When it is too late
When I was twelve I lived at a farm milking and looking after cows, but a war had ended and the impression it made stayed with me and nothing could change the imprint of my mind
I lived a good life herding sheep and milking cows and my best friend was a little horse called Dolly and she loved me, she never had a foal, and in her mind, I was
a good substitute mind, I spent hours brushing her and trimming her horse mane
Idyllic, wasn't it? Worth writing poetry about the bumble bees and hens finding worms in the dark soil
Despite this, I missed my old life the fear the uncertainty
of sitting in a bomb shelter, the one under the schoolhouse
listening to the worried voices of the adults, waking up going back to our flat where my mother's brother had secured a loaf and margarine and the happiness the meager offering brought, it was all too late I had been conditioned to a life where tomorrow is not an extension of today. I left the secure life.
From a life of turmoil to the risk of violence by the mob in the knowledge that my mother loved me, for this, a son can endure the hard time.
Upon the beautiful flowers
many dewdrops sit~wait
the dewdrops are filled with powers
reaching from the flower towers
what did the water drops create
what will become their fate.
Upon my morning window sill
a beautiful redbird
in this winter's day with a chill
the dripping dewdrops are a thrill
they both sit there so very still
birds watched the drops without a word
dewdrops and birds I heard.
Upon the huge tall old oak tree
a dewdrop from a leaf
I saw a yellow bumble bee
she was flying high~low and free
she needs some cool water not beef
the dewdrop was relief.
Upon the big yard of green grass
the neighbors love to see
many dewdrops looking like glass
this yard will definitely pass
ask what is their magical key
I work on my one knee.
Date Written: 6/17/2022