Spring's warming of the breeze
And the greening of the trees,
There's a settling in the hive
To the soft whispering of bees.
A burrowed beetle 'comes alive
To sate stomach's hunger drive,
While a newly structured nest
Assures us that the birds survive.
Yet there's no more time to rest.
Worker bees will start their quest,
While life settles in the hive,
Bees will bring back nectar's best.
Chuck has rules for his children
for his house, truck and wife
his rules are inflexible
staunch edicts in his life
a rule for eating, for putting things away
a rule for gardening and swimming in the bay
Chuck’s rules are obsessive, some are silly too
But since none of them are working, what else can his family do?
The energetic hyper crazy worker bee saws a stem
For the prickly green thorns give him pause, annoying him
The rose looks more like a daisy anyway
Another reason he feels he can fool around and play
I watch from the safety of my lovely garden floral seat
Enjoying bee, who flies to another blossom to repeat
Sailing in the air as a worker with no name
Trailing the air to find liquid gold that sun and earth did birth
Prevailing and seeing gold guarded by bright coloured cushions all the same
Unfailing is the emerald pillar that has this bed sit above the earth
Unfailing, I go back to the home with the gold
Unveiling the sun’s mirror where the queen is being served
Prevailing and eternal is our blessed mother and wife from times of old
Sailing bees we see come and leave our golden palace as all our work deserved
Around three AM, he is awake
Uphill, upon a solitaire game
Loving the heat of his sweat
The distance whispers of his honey queen
The nearness of the morning howls
The mistakes and lazy gaze at the paining finger
The smiling mirror in his fuming eyes
The smiling lips in his coupled mirrors
The worker bee is dividing his blood
One for his sweat and other for the sweet love
I used to be a worker bee,
And as far as I could ever see,
Would never have the sunshine time,
To sing a song, to pen a rhyme.
I longed so for a day I would be free,
To paint a picture, to watch TV,
That day came with new ways to live,
Bones got stiff, mind like a sieve.
Adapting to the new me I didn’t expect,
My new found freedom was circumspect,
But having cyber friends all over the world,
Is so encouraging to this aging girl.
Caught in the hidden trap of normality
Where the weird little freak inside can never be free
Are we really any better in this society?
With every unusual act we judge the worker bee
For daring to be different instead of the same
Wishing to be free of this copycat chain
With hears that vibrate and bodies refusing to resonate
When a mind is unique we begin to hate
Nobody wants to be ostracized so we act the same
Inside the higher self is paralysed by pain
With nothing to lose and everything to gain
Except all of your friends and disposition of sane
To drone,
I have in a world
filled with prospered humanity.
Like a worker bee I
ready the honey in which
my society cares for;
I have grown tired of the strains
born upon my
labor;
although the smells I love,
it is never enough.
And the satisfaction returned is
forgotten, for fire
always triumphs the solace
that defeats the situation.
The hares that cower and stare
at this worker bee in his
working state;
a car with one route,
for two teenagers who wish for a
denoument.
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