Long Bumble bee Poems
Long Bumble bee Poems. Below are the most popular long Bumble bee by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bumble bee poems by poem length and keyword.
No one really knows what happens after someone we love dies…
It’s something we try not to think about…and often don’t discuss.
but I like to think…from wherever they now reside…they’re watching over us.
Sometimes we feel their presence…and we know we’re not alone
other times we’re sure…as they make their presences known.
Those times we hear their voice…calling from another room
Or when just the thought of them can help to ease our gloom
Those times we see their spirit…if only for a little while…
Or when we really need it…we remember how they smiled.
Oftentimes it’s a surprise…they show up suddenly without a fuss
As we’re doing something that had a special meaning…for the two of us.
They may show up as a pelican…a bumble bee
a lunar moth or a butterfly…
We wonder in that moment…what and how and why…
As we wipe our tears and smile
we are calm, unafraid and happy they found a way
to come down for a visit…and brighten up our day.
Here to remind us the line between life and death is thin…
and how even those no longer with us…
have a way of looking in.
It’s funny how they appear to us…as a thought…a vision or a ghost…
when we least expect them…but…when we seem to need them most.
How they fill our heart with love…and how we’ve found
we sleep a little sounder…knowing they’re around.
It is reassuring to know they will never abandon us
that they still think about us too…
and comforting to know they are watching over us…
just like they used to do.
I am summer, flitting around in a faerie like way
Landing on iris, lilac, tulip, rose and Queen Anne’s lace.
A pesky loud bumble bee is following me, but I am evasive.
I glide into the shadows of the woods, avoiding his meanness.
I paint my happiness into joyful beasts – dragons and pirates.
Sun comes in through the window to take giant peeks at my progress.
I bask in her interest, adding neon yellows, golds, pinks, and greens.
There is something refreshing about me today; I am a new woman.
I am summer, splashing around in a salt water pool.
Throwing my enthusiasm into the air in a maniacally relaxed way.
School is out, and exuberance and mirth bubbles out of me.
I am joyful and excited, and thrilled.
Springs to Summer callings
In a year
I am only here, to flutter in flight
Rhopalocera four life stages
Egg, Larva Caterpillar pupa Chrysalis
I am flying, fluttering side to side
In differences heights
Floating in air, sometime suspended rare
Feelings of detachments, change is afoot
Painted lady not a prostitute
Cabbage White not a garden vegetable
Old world Swallowtail not a fish
Be it my fondest wish
Insect macro lepidopteran brightly colored wings
Conspicuous fluttering flight
Different shades of orange, yellows, blues greens and whites
Flight of the bumble bee not
Fly high fluttering Butterfly
Fly high, change afoot what’s already changed
In occurred waking life
5/8/21
2021©
For Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Free verse poetry form only.
My garden has bellflowers, globe flowers and cornflowers too
I spend many hours weeding the rows, making it look new
Sometimes a pretty renegade violet sneaks in, what can I do?
I leave her unviolated, she adds a gorgeous splash of blue.
My neighbor old Cyrus brought me some bulbs of iris today.
I will plant them in fall; it is not time for them to make their way.
He said, “Your marigolds are so beautiful, ruffled and gay!”
Uplifted my mood, showing Cyrus my flower garden today.
Your bleeding heart is so gorgeous! He said. What is your trick?
He is right; she is the quintessential flower, fluffy and thick.
She was a start from my great Grandmother, Molly McNick.
She was an Irish wizard, who could grow a flower in brick.
You have inherited her green thumb, Old Cyrus told me.
Your Queen Anne’s lace and daisies are a pleasure to see.
I felt happy that he did nothing to disturb my busy bumble bee.
Many winged creatures aid in my garden of ecstasy
Written 6-5-2022
Contest: Posie Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
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.
Do not be self-conscious or anything, but I have got my big ,rotatorof an eye on you.
I know your mama and yourdad, and I’m willing to let them know if you are not being true.
I cannot tell you that it is never odd or even, but I can tell you that it’s midway, and blue.
Eve, Bob, Otto and Anna are ready to jump right in that kayak and stack cats if they have to.
Don’t pop your eyes at me, young lady. I do not care if we are at the civic center; I feel free
To do whatever I have to, to keep Evil Olive in check, and you also, my little bumble bee.
Who is looking for a nut for a jar of tuna? There is no lemon, no melon, and it’s 9:03.
The radar gun is in the van with Hannah, anyway it was at noon, so I thought that it still might be.
Someone is outside the civic center is yelling, “No garden, one dragon!” What does that mean anyway?
I brought this 6th grade level field trip with me to have an interesting, fun-filled, learning challenged day.
I don’t need some nut-bucket ruining it for me, on every level, this is totally wrong, and I don’t play!
The mirror rimis brushing against the tailgate of the bus we brought, but that is for the driver to say.
Now where in the Sam hill crazy town, is that blue nylon solokayak that was attached to the top of our bus?
I thought we could have one blasted solo-inspired field trip to the civic center without a bunch of fuss.
I realize it is noon, and people are hungry and crabby, and the blue kayak is a big fat muss.
But you have to realize that Eve, Bob, Otto, and Anna were the ones assigned to straighten this big tuss.
I always get the blame when things go wrong, as everyone blames the poor old mama.
The dad is just as much to blame, but there he goes, taking off on a fat llama.
I’m ready to pop my cork, and pitch a fit that would shock the Dad, so much.
Aha! Here he is, back to chow down his fabulous, hand-stacked pepperoni lunch.
Contest entry: Pocketful of dreams
The room was bright my favourite colour
Large airy and yellow
It grew smaller as I walked round
And there was a yellow fellow.
Through a yellow door into a smaller room
So small I nearly couldn’t fit in.
Then a yellow mouse passed me
Banging a spoon and making a din.
Through a yellow tunnel I suddenly burst forth
To find I was the yellow trumpet of a daffodil
I used to like yellow once
But now I’m feeling quite ill
The yellow black stripes of a bumble bee
Headed for my flower
I tried to move my trumpet away
But didn’t have the power
I fell to sleep in a yellow bed
My quilt all yellow too
I found I was suffering Jaundice
So you looked yellow too.
© 8/01/2014
The images plucked from a full soft drive like over blown berries
threatening to fall……blasted to the humus. Swing chains creak.
The high-backed, heart carved, chalk white, front porch swing sways;
to the kicking of your feet. Beside me, you sit in spankin’ new school clothes singing.
Together wrapped like pretzel dough, we warble, annoying the sparrows.
The bumble bee yellow and black stripped school bus is late.
The dreamy cottage bungalows’ screen porch perches like a tree house ledge
over the four story drop off. Hundred year old sentinel pines tower still above us,
limbs house hug. The occasional cone drop ricochets down the trunk
to a soft needle landing, and a bouncing roll before falling off the retaining wall
We own the world. King and Queen of the Mountain are we. I sing “Ducky Duddle” to you.
You laugh. All the joy in the world in such a small sound. Oh, how I loved to make you happy.
Two short years before, even your name was new to you..my boy, Jamie.
fruitful is each breath, unpremeditational
dolphins jumping calm sea diagonal
as bumble bee pauses on swaying daisy
industry’s pollen for human folk’s honey
we all are lucky, don’t you see ?
sun rising each morn or hiding in winter
eclipsed by nebula, floating arbitrary blinkers
circling purest love within core soaring
unexpected finches settle, chirping linger
fertile soil unsolicited beneath our feet fortuitous is Gaia, gravity’s a blue-green feat
coffee’s black, sweet an incidental treat
incremental is our luck, not accidental
dribbling raindrops on window pane inadvertent
allow scribbles of verses in puddle concerted wings of wind float seeds, land lacy across loam
nothings by chance, sometimes we roam
naught’s coincidental, every positive serendipity underscores a negative
balance of forces appears chance, though every cookie’s appearance is
ALL’s intention dance
fortuitously I uncovered ageless trace of own
sixty-fourth gene codon, gleaning my life’s purpose previously unseen —- to be
transformational-inspirational poetry was genome’s message unhesitational ~
seemed random, opportune gift graces
unveiling heavenly aces
____________________________
SECOND PLACEMENT : Premier Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
April 26
Like a buzzing bumble bee welcoming
the opening of stunning new blooms,
she flits constantly from page to page
just to check out all the new poems.
If you are one of the lucky new poets,
she will pollinate your written work
with a sparkling comment that will
often leave you in such a state of awe
that rendering a response beyond
just a simple "thank you" is difficult.
She is loved by many new poets
and appreciated by even more
while others green with jealously
envy her own poetic skill and talent.
She may go by this name or that name,
or occasionally use her given name,
but to all those who really do care
she will always be our "Poet Destroyer."