Tag Archives: #bee

The Old Man and the Bee

Not by Unrest Hummingway,

but by me,

purveyor of words

in sentences,

upon bees and birds,

in present, future,

and past tenses;

and, yes,

I am an old man,

and daily older grow,

in my life measured in years,

which is not a thing a bee would know.

And as a Mayfly counts every second

in its day-long life, is reckoned

beyond value,

and of immeasurable worth,

to travel in one day

from birth to the end;

so must a bee

conceive lots of mirth,

rejoice every friend,

and live every moment

with a song in its soul,

for tomorrow might not bring flowers

but a bell that will toll.

The Bee and Me

A bee

buzzed at my window,

‘Let me in!’ said the bee.

‘Why do you want to come indoors?’

I asked,

‘There are no flowers in here,

the outside is yours.’

The bee replied, as only bees can,

‘I want to go,

where I never have been,

to gather information,

to instruct the Queen,

on all that there is,

and all that is done –

and, to be honest,

twenty-four seven,

hour after hour,

buzzing from flower to flower to flower,

is not my idea of fun.

To take some time off

from gathering food,

keeps a bee hungry,

stops a bad mood;

and inside your house

looks a place I should go…

and it’s getting quite cold,

and it’s starting to snow.’

Beyond Belief

“That leaf… said Bee,

‘… is the exact same leaf

that fell upon my head last year.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Butterfly,

‘it can’t be, Bee…’

Bee liked Butterfly, and didn’t want to appear to argue.

‘No. I suppose it cannot be, for that would almost be beyond bee leaf!’

Butterfly groaned at Bee’s pun, and took her leave.

I know…

I know

I know nothing;

which means…

I know something

and not nothing,

as I had, until recently, thought.

But, I know not what

A wasp

And a butterfly

really ought.

The Bee and the Buddleja

The Bee landed upon

the Buddleja,

rooted around for a while,

and then was gone.

Then returned for more.

And more.

And a whole lot more.

The Bee loved the Buddleja

that was for sure.

Busy Bee

I’m a busy bee

too busy for poetry.



Float like a bee, sing like a butterfly

I had to rescue the bee

from the bowl of water that he

had landed in for a drink;

at least he knew how to float –

or had forgotten how to sink.

He dried off and flew away,

a torrid tale to tell;

but at least his day was getting better –

it hadn’t been going well.


All this caused the singing butterflies

to entertain us with a chorus of ‘Que Sera Sera’,

and a verse of ‘Wannabee’

(in the key of B) were heard;

with accompanying harmonies

from every local bird –

except the crows;

who knows if they could have

added small delights

or sleepless nights –

I’m thinking probably the latter.


So, all in all,

it turned out okay,

with the beautiful singing,

and the rescued bee safely serenaded upon his way.

A Labradobee

If you try

and cross

a Labrador

with a bee

you will just get

a confused Labrador

and a bee

that is so much crosser

than it ought to be.

Do you see?

When there’s a bee in your beer

When there’s a bee in your beer

please remove it;

I know you’ll be left with an ‘r’,

but I think that is better by far.

If there’s a bee in your ear,

and it’s not that easy to hear;

well, that’s a different matter altogether.

Bee in a flower

I’m just a bee in a flower,

hour upon hour,

not the same one, obviously,

lots of different ones;

because I’m a bee,

and flowers, I find,

are attractive to me.