Tag Archives: #bee

Alphabet Browsings Cause Dangers.

I had only just started reading the alphabet the other day, when I was bitten by an angry bee, these things can only happen to a poet like me.



But the bee said nothing to me;

perhaps my speaking out

was perceived as a shout;

and, maybe, I should be

a Bee-Whisperer, me;

then with my morning’s greeting

of, ‘Good morning, Bee.’

the bee, would agree.

‘The Butterfly and the Bee’

“You really are quite funny looking.”

said the Butterfly to the Bee,

“With your silly round body,

your stubby little wings,

and your penchant for honey.”

“Me?” said the Bee,

“Why not take a look at yourself, Mr Butterfly –

take it from me

I never did see

an uglier looking guy

flying by.


When the Bad Bee bothered the Beautiful Butterfly.

‘When the Bad Bee bothered the Beautiful Butterfly.’

There were buzzy bees, beautiful butterflies, stingy wasps – sorry sting-y wasps, and all manner of other bugs and beasties…


… it was the bad bee that bothered the beautiful butterfly,

by bombarding her with… alliteration,

“Buzz, buzz be gone!” bade the bee.

Meanwhile, an army of caterpillars marched by, unnoticed by all but me.

“See you later, Pollinator!”

The bee flew here,

the bee flew there,

I am inclined to say,

that the bee flew everywhere –

but I shalln’t –

the bee stayed long,

the bee stayed short,

I didn’t think

he was a cross pollinator sort,

but he was;

he was feeling the buzz,

and, unknownst to me,

he cared, indirectly,

a lot about uzz.

And, when his work was neatly done,

he headed off

into the land of the realm of the flower of the setting sun –

and, twenty… minutes… later…

I called out:

‘See you later, pollinator!’

If only my timing had been

a little less late,

it would almost have sounded

rather bee great.

Prompt: Up In The Air / Bear

Up in the air


there isn’t a bear;

Is where I want to be;

not down on the ground

where bears can be found –

and, possibly,

one that’s been angered

by a bee.

The Butterfly

The Butterfly

The butterfly did flee,

it seems he was afraid of me

he flew so fast, I barely saw him go

and where he goes I do not know.

An admiral from the Russian Navy

once stopped a while and spoke with me,

“Do you prefer the butterfly, or the flea?”

I told him it was all the same to me,

whether it be,

the flutter of a butterfly

the braying of a flea,

or the saying that,

‘whatever a bee will be… will be.’

The admiral smiled,

and looked at me,

handed me his cap

in humility,

and now, I am the ruler of the Tsar’s navy!

The Busy, Busy Bee.

The Busy, Busy Bee.

A busy, busy bee,

took the time to speak to me,

he said, ‘Buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz!’ to me;

but, as I don’t speak bee,

all I heard was ‘Buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz!’

you see.

A Butterfly Bee?

A Butterfly Bee?

How small

can a butterfly be?

Is there such a thing

as a butterfly bee;

could there be,

if there isn’t already,

the love child of a butterfly

and a bee?

Could there be

such a thing

on the wing?

When a pilot crashes the plane.

The bee landed here and moved no more

When a pilot crashes the plane.

How he managed to land it where he did

is a feat that stretches the imagination beyond reason;

and,what with the change in the weather at the end of the season,

conditions were not good for his approach.

There were no passengers on this fateful day,

just a sweet cargo recently loaded.

Did the prophecies speak of this final journey?

Were due warnings given, had omens foreboded?

One soul lost, amongst the millions;

small fry in the scheme of things – another fly boy statistic.