Tag Archives: #bee

‘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.

Barnaby the Banana Bee.

Barnaby the Banana Bee

was fluttering and flitting

amongst the flowers.

He was searching for something;

but, he wasn’t quite sure what.

Was it a Blueberry Bush?

No, not a Blueberry Bush,

nice though it was.

Was it a Lemon Tree?

No, not a Lemon Tree,

deduced Barnaby,

a regular little Sherlock Holmes was he.

Was it the Staddle Stone?

’No. It was never going to be the staddle stone’,

mused Barnaby the Banana Bee.

What was the colour of the thing

that Barnaby was busy seeking?

Was it Blue?


Green? Red? Black? Grey?

No, No, No, and No.

Ah, there was the colour he was looking for;

just the right shade, in the shade,

by the door;

there, stood the Banana Tree.

Barnaby made a bee-line for it,

and reaching it, was so happy.

”it’s bananas are ’yellow’ just like me!” said Barnaby the Banana Bee.

I am Just a Silent Bee

Listen... can you hear me?

Listen… can you hear me?

I am just a silent bee
In a hive mind of like mentality
You cannot hear them or me
We are as silent as we can be.

And here’s the rub
“Buzz! Buzz!” Is not uz
No “Rub-a-dub-dub!”
We are as quiet as the quietest church mouze
We wouldn’t want to cause a fuzz.

And if you ever did hear uz
We wouldn’t be going “Buzzety Buzz!”
While we were a tooing and a froing;
We’d be singing
(ever so quietly)
“Honey, honey, honey…
Must be funny…”
Strangely enough
Was written by a bee
Bee a…