Long Honeycombs Poems
Long Honeycombs Poems. Below are the most popular long Honeycombs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honeycombs poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
Hammock sleeping 'neath a halo'ed sun,
a signal of September rain to come.
On a micro scale, we have magical and special connections with certain people. On a macro scale, every soul and quark is connected in the Universe. Whether you understand it as energy, mathematics, quantum physics, spirituality, astronomy or something else, we are one. Let's act like it. Blessings and best wishes for peace, love, light and joy to be our authentic focus for 2023 and beyond. We can save humanity and our planet.
The Universe's blessed art
By Michelle Morris
30/12/2022
I see the message
I feel it in my heart
I hear it echo inside my soul
I know we are two halves
Of this special geometric form
Created by the Universe
Interconnected and gilded
By silvery webs and moons
We are the brightest blessing
Upon which the eye can gaze
I see it in my reflection
You look back into my face
You are the inside
Of my cells and my bones
You are part of my DNA
My marrow and my home
We leave our mortal tombs
And we travel through secret portals
We visit such worlds of wonder
Where unicorns and fairies dwell immortal
And through it all and everything
We scatter confetti about
Such silvery tongues and honeycombs
Twinkling glitter and jewels for us
For we see it all from this perspective
Where the Universe creates all sparks
All the mathematical equations
And geometric shapes unite every quark
Nothing is truly separate
No one is ever alone
Every single cell is connected
By love and light and joy
I know the message
I feel it in my heart
Our souls all combine
As the Universe's blessed art
© Michelle Morris, 2022
They broke the ground some months before.
At the site, like faithful bees at work,
machines and men construct a human hive...
the new high-rise, every tenant's dream;
each apartment placed like honeycombs
beneath one roof...world within a world.
As I watched this man-made maze,
I saw a rounded ant hill in the sandy dirt
and marveled at the intricate design
of what they were about.
My heart was sad, yet, without a thought,
I moved out of the way to let the grader pass
right through their little world...
They disappeared.
What purpose to it all?
They worked so hard to have it end like that
never knowing the what, how, when, or why?
But, what other choice was theirs
except to make the best of circumstance?
What is life purpose but a simple need to be?
All life is void without a goal
in spite of any fatal forces beyond its realm.
I turned to watch the human hive...
buzzing with sounds like that of droning bees.
Confronted, lost between two worlds,
I brushed a teardrop neath my eyes...
my eyes, which saw no line...
between the tiny ants and us;
between this simple grader leveling the ground,
and nature's complex destructive forces
driven by our Earth and Universe,
that level this...our world...from time to time.
April 26, 2018
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?
Vagabond Reveries
I awoke one apple-ripe autumn afternoon,
While shifting my necessity to care, dreaming,
To gaze upon the twisting trail in reveries of untethered reality
A quest for halcyon enigmas that chased me into cloudy castles.
And glancing back over fields of maize and green apple trees
I dreamt of meandering - suntanned faces, gentle eyes,
Campfire stories told in stargazer mists on childhood summer nights
Country roads and country stores with squeaky hinged screen doors.
I saw through mists kaleidoscopes of skyscraping cities, living postcards,
Steaming, groaning, sweating-swaying -
Crowded avenues named aspiration and pipedreams of working faces
Pushed into honeycombs of question’s smoke reflecting my reflection.
Through gossamer fleeting fragments rumbled symphonies
In movements of freight cars and highway hum
Vagabonds of REM sleeping tugged at chugging feasts
Of my winter-spring planned fetes and wakes and festival jubilees.
A wispy scent of reminisce felt the rushing, ever rushing, sun
Dashing headlong ahead of earth in my wishing stars
Pulling earth like a dawdling toddler running into chimeras of
Fleeting dawns and uncatchable dusky time in taunted moonlit glee.
Stormy darkness of gypsy memories throbbed in lightning flashes
Illuminated my godless thundering regrets
On wild midnights stumbling through windswept briar tangled valleys,
Soul soaking rains of prodigal shame, and I remember waking to grace.
9-4-21
Contest: "V" New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
1-23-23
Contest: Poetry Marathon Mile 24
Sponsor: Mark Toney
24 Lines
Both Jing and Ling
Perfect match of nature
Are walking in Wuhan City,China
Have hand in hand
Before the king of death
The Corona Virus attacks on the city.
Unaware of dangers
From unseen little warrior
Smiling faces smile in spring of life.
But misfortune play game
And Ling caught by a dangerous flu
When they planned to manage life.
Multi , mass and print media
Were making hue and cry
The researchers and inventors
Raised their hands that the Virus
Can't be killed or defeat by
Present Vaccine and medicines .
Jing wants to hold Ling's hand
But scared girl say,
'don't touch me, friend '.
Do you know ? My dear
Virus spreads in touch
So keep four feet away, dear.
Ling wants isolation (quarantine)
Jing want close relation
Both are made for each other .
But a new enemies the covid 19
Originate fear ,conflict and debate
Where lovers exchange arguments.
Women are always right
So Ling won the Nobel fight
She was going to isolate
From her lovely soulmate
Desperate Jing prayed Flora
To bless and save life of lover.
She comes to bless
Have necter in golden honeycombs
Which is full of honey
To save Jing's honey
She want return promise from you
Nature, creature will live in harmony.
If you want to be winners
Against the king of death Covid 19.
Say Namste without sake hands
Keep distance and wash hands.
Luke warm water, turmeric milk
Practice Yoga to keep yourself at less risk.
Be aware ,Do aware
Stay home the few days
Be safe yourself and world from the ways.
All Mighty will help his sons and daughters
Keep patience and faith
The God is mighty then the demon virus.
Life is a series of overlapping adventure circles…
(after all…we’re riding on a planet that continuously spins)
The moment one adventure reaches its end…another adventure begins.
We left our home and for a couple months and across this nation we did roam…
eventually ending up where we began…circling back home.
When we arrived as we circled our house…in a warm early afternoon breeze…
we stopped at the little bird house and were greeted by our bees.
Two years ago they moved into that birdhouse…(not all bees live in honeycombs)
and from the circle they use as a window…they looked out and welcomed us home.
The next morning I began my walk ready for the sights and sounds of my circle to digest…
I was greeted by the mockingbirds…singing…from the circle of their nests.
The sky was clear and cloudless…still bathed in a blanket of night
when Venus…a perfect circle in the sky…twinkled her morning light.
The trees were reacting to the morning breeze…swaying to and fro..
or…as the wind swirled around them in a circle…was this their way to say hello.
I met some old friends as I circled around…the crickets…and a plethora of waking birds
the rabbits who looked up as I passed…and greeted me…without words.
As I rounded the corner for home…I saw a frog from behind a palm tree leap
and I could feel the comfort of our neighbors…still in their houses…fast asleep.
I stood in front of our house…thinking of the adventure we just completed…
of all the places we had roamed…
and as the sun…that bright orange circle…began to rise…
I thought…It’s nice to be back home.
Genuine love is loveless
Whereof the heart is beclouded
With mystic, monastic and metaphysical aura
Only minds as deep as the Congo river can contain.
'Tis when fair love subsist
That spiritual, ethical and philosophical
Transcend all mundane forms and allures
That are subject to the acid test of time and change.
'Tis to disdain honeycombs
To find relish in bitter herbs is rare
And have wants and longings lay in catacombs
Beside the sweet amusing bed of roses it is but to dare.
'Tis to know what it is
Love dwells in spirit and not physique
And its form is literal but not imaginative
And its essence not naive but rather philosophical!
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Whistling
winter keeps us
silent.Cold moments
turn into bright yellow
buttons along the path.
The coltsfoot has flourished.
A few insects are beginning to stir.
Honeycombs stick sweetly in the
mouth. Changing surfaces, when
spring breaks.Makes your stomach
tingle with hypersensitive details
in this sonnet's time.Everyday
emotions rainbow painted
an verdure sheen,
overwhelming
excitement
@@
// @
// (¯`v´¯)
@ // @ (¯`(O)´¯)
(¯`v´¯) @ // (¯`v´¯) ( _. ._ )
(¯`(O)´¯) (¯`v´¯) // (¯`(O)´¯) @
( _. ._ ) (¯`(O)´¯) // ( _. ._ )
@ ( _. ._ ) @
@
Don't trust those metaphors, my darling
They all lie
The wind is the air's alphabet
The earth knows the cosmic way by heart
Birds sing from hunger
Stars understand people
Better than people understand each other
Sometimes the rain flagellates itself
Like penitent monks
The cars' headlights are happier
Than the eyes of the drivers
The paths of the deserts lead to temples
The dead create dreams for us
That play like sci-fi movies in our sleep
A frog swallowed by a greedy stork
Croaks bravely: Long live the rights of all living beings!
A worm has reached the top of a grass blade
And calls out: Here's the helm of the world!
Black oil erupts in the Arctic
Mixing naturally with falling snow
Many of us are like the full moon
The blood of a rose has signed its name in the headlines
African lions offer communion
To young antelopes before eating them
And toreros in the corridas kill the bulls
In honor of their love betrayals
Time is born to be filled like honeycombs from hives
And you are born so I may be a poet
Don't trust the metaphors, my darling
The entire breed of human beings
Is a lying metaphor