[sqkcrk]

Is there any beekeeping or bee poetry or prose out there that you all would like to share?

I'll start.

BEE MUSINGS
Pollen is the protien
to grow the baby bees;
It's gathered from all sorts of
flowering plants and trees.
Some plants produce nectar
which for thwe bees is fuel;
These are just a couple things
you may have missed in school.

Mark Berninghausen, May 2005

This is what you get sometimes when you've been out moving bees from the orchard to the summer yards on just a few hours sleep.

Let's hear from some others.

Mark Berninghausen

 

[dickm]

Mark,
That's a great poem.

Dickm

 

[Michael Bush]

SONG OF THE QUEEN BEE

"The breeding of the bee, says a United States Department of
Agriculture bulletin on artificial insemination, "has always
been handicapped by the fact that the queen mates in the air
with whatever drone she encounters."

When the air is wine and the wind is free
And morning sits on the lovely lea
And sunlight ripples on every tree,
Then love in the air is the thing for me--
I'm a bee,
I'm a ravishing, rollicking, young queen bee,
That's me.

I wish to state that I think it's great,
Oh, it's simply rare in the upper air,
It's the place to pair
With a bee.
Let old geneticists plot and plan,
They're stuffy people, to a man;
Let gossips whisper behind their fan.
(Oh, she does?
Buzz, buzz, buzz!)

My nuptial flight is sheer delight;
I'm a giddy girl who likes to swirl,
To fly and soar
And fly some more,
I'm a bee.
And I wish to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

There's a kind of a wild and glad elation
In the natural way of insemination;
Who thinks that love is a handicap
Is a fuddydud and a common sap,
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
The test tube doesn't appeal to me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
And I'm here to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Let mares and cows, by calculating,
Improve themselves with loveless mating,
Let groundlings breed in the modern fashion,
I'll stick to the air and the grand old passion;
I may be small and I'm just a bee
But I won't have Science improving me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
On a day that's fair with a wind that's free,
Any old drone is the lad for me.

I have no flair for love moderne,
It's far too studied, far too stern,
I'm just a bee--I'm wild, I'm free,
That's me.
I can't afford to be too choosy;
In every queen there's a touch of floozy,
And it's simply rare
In the upper air
And I wish to state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Man is a fool for the latest movement,
He broods and broods on race improvement;
What boots it to improve a bee
If it means the end of ecstasy?
(He ought to be there
On a day that's fair
Oh, it's simply rare
For a bee.)
Man's so wise he is growing foolish,
Some of his schemes are downright ghoulish;
He owns a bomb that'll end creation
And he wants to change the sex relation,
He thinks that love is a handicap,
He's a fuddydud, he's a simple sap;
Man is a meddler, man's a boob,
He looks for love in the depths of a tube,
His restless mind is forever ranging,
He thinks he's advancing as long as he's changing,
He cracks the atom, he racks his skull,
Man is meddlesome, man is dull,
Man is busy instead of idle,
Man is alarmingly suicidal,
Me, I'm a bee.

I am a bee and I simply love it,
I am a bee and I'm darned glad of it,
I am a bee, I know about love:
You go upstairs, you go above,
You do not pause to dine or sup,
The sky won't wait--it's a long trip up;
You rise, you soar, you take the blue,
It's you and me, kid, me and you,
It's everything, it's the nearest drone,
It's never a thing that you find alone.
I'm a bee,
I'm free.

If any old farmer can keep and hive me,
Then any old drone may catch and wive me;
I'm sorry for creatures who cannot pair
On a gorgeous day in the upper air,
I'm sorry for cows who have to boast
Off affairs they've had by parcel post,
I'm sorry for man with his plots and guile,
His test-tube manner, his test-tube smile;
I'll multiply and I'll increase
As I always have--by mere caprice;
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
Love-in-air is the thing for me,
Oh, it's simply rare
In the beautiful air;
And I wish top state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

by E. B. White (1899-1985)

 

[Robert Hicks]

When I was just a boy of ten,
my Mother said to me,
"Come here and take a lesson from,
the lovely honeybee."
"Don't put your faith in wasps my boy..."
my mother said to me.
"I fear you'll find that wasps aren't like the lovely honeybee"

 

[danno1800]

The bee is such a busy soul
She has no time for birth control
And that is why at times like these
There are so many Sons of Bees!

 

[sqkcrk]

dickm, Thanks, it's one of the few things that I have created all by myself.

Mark

 

[sqkcrk]

Oh, yeah, except the uproar that I created on AHbs.

 

[sqkcrk]

Hey Y'all, these are some okay examples of bee related prose, poetry and limericks.

Now how about original work?

Mark

 

[Troutsqueezer]

OK, how 'bout this one, just now re-composed:

As I awoke one joyous morn
all bright and starry-eyed,
I stepped up to my window
and threw the window wide.

There buzzing 'round my sash
a happy honey bee,
buzzing with morning cheer,
And from the fancy of his flight
I knew that spring was here.

And as I looked upon this cheery sight
he paused, a moments lull
so I gently closed the window
and crushed his little skull.

 

[sqkcrk]

Well, not exactly what I was hoping for. But one posts a topic and you take your chances. It's sorta like when you've raised a child and they leave home. You have high hopes for them. Sometimes you are pleased and sometimes not, I guess.

So, if I can't get quality original work, then keep the sorta stuff that Michael Bush contributed coming. The other ones are cute, I guess. But not what I was hoping for. What more can I say?

Mark Berninghausen

 

[TwT]

HERE'S ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS

A flea flew by a bee. The bee
To flee the flea flew by a fly.
The fly flew high to flee the bee
Who flew to flee the flea who flew
To flee the fly who now flew by.


The bee flew by the fly. The fly
To flee the bee flew by the flea.
The flea flew high to flee the fly
Who flew to flee the bee who flew
To flee the flea who now flew by.


The fly flew by the flea. The flea
To flee the fly flew by the bee.
The bee flew high to flee the flea
Who flew to flee the fly who flew
To flee the bee who now flew by.


The flea flew by the fly. The fly
To flee the flea flew by the bee.
The bee flew high to flee the fly
Who flew to flee the flea who flew
To flee the bee who now flew by.


The fly flew by the bee. The bee
To flee the fly flew by the flea.
The flea flew high to flee the bee
Who flew to flee the fly who flew
To flee the flea who now flew by.


The bee flew by the flea. The flea
To flee the bee flew by the fly.
The fly flew high to flee the flea
Who flew to flee the bee who flew
To flee the fly who now flew by.

 

[TwT]

OK OK HERE A REAL ONE that one above is hard to read

Honeybee, Honeybee


Honeybee, Honeybee, listen I say,
you're in my heart and my thoughts today.
Honeybee, Honeybee, you were just three,
a child full of love, you gave some to me.
A far away Dad you had of your own,
but you opened your heart, gave me a home.
We gathered together, your mom and you,
added some love, me and my children too.
Then came a day I started to hurt,
for my own two children, their Dad did desert.

Honeybee, Honeybee, you may not remember,
it was in July, August, September,
and through the long years I cried every day,
you lay by my side, kissed my tears away.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee said.
Without these words, I'd surely be dead.
When you first spoke them, they made me cry harder,
more love for my own in my heart I did harbor.
I wanted to hear these words from my two,
but they were silent, heartless, untrue.

It was a dark and moonless night,
when I grabbed my gun, walked out of sight,
determined to end the pain in my heart,
from this ugly earth I did want to depart.
Then Honeybee, Honeybee, you came to me,
entered my mind, my thoughts you see.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee said.
Your words touched my heart, and stopped me dead.

I learned to love you, that day it is true.
With each passing day, my small love grew.
I still cried in pain for many long years.
But you came to me, kissed all my tears.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee did smile
I held and hugged you, kissed you for awhile.
Then soon I was better, better you see,
whenever my Honeybee, came unto me.

You were just seven when I had to go,
for yet another pain, my heart did know.
To you and your Mom I could no longer do,
things that were wrong, dishonest, untrue.
You and your Mom had both entered my heart,
and rather than hurt you I chose to depart.
One night the truth to your Mom I did tell,
knowing she'd ask me to leave, knowing well.

The day that I left you started to cry.
To kiss your tears dry, I longed to try.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee screamed,
she cried and she sobbed, then later she dreamed.
I wanted to take you into my heart,
to hug you and hold you and we'd never part.
But I knew then, though I wanted to stay,
that I must go, far, far away.

Sweet Honeybee, Honeybee, I wish I could be,
all that your Mom and you wished to see,
but a leopard his spots, cannot change they say.
A leopard once born, a leopard must stay.
Some day the Lord will bid me, "Come home."
And there I shall wait for you all alone.
You and your Mom, you shall come to me,
and all of my faults, God shall fix you see.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee'll say.
We'll laugh, love and play, all through the day.

Honeybee, Honeybee, I cried today,
but you came to me in your own special way.
"But I love you Daddy," Honeybee said.
I cried the harder, hugging my bed.
Dear Honeybee, Honeybee, I carry with me,
deep in my heart a fond memory,
of a sweet little girl who I learned to love,
with all of my heart, my sweet little dove.
So Honeybee, Honeybee, I wrote this to say.
I hope that your joy increases each day.

[ January 05, 2006, 08:35 PM: Message edited by: TwT ]

 

[tecumseh]

not exactly about bees, but maybe a bit more about being. something I writ long ago..

North of St Thomas-1972

silently slicing
throught this sedate and silvery sea,
our port of call is St Thomas
and two days of liberty.
a mist veils the shimmering sea
and the palisade point of St Thomas,
straining our view of land and liberty.

each of us, in fair weather and foul,
adjures his mistress's vanity.
love and disdain our mistress's fickle nature,
draws each of us to and from the sea.

the plowing and plunging,
the churning and crashing,
the lunging and listing,
the grumbling and gagging,
the chanting and cursing,
how well we recall her tempest mood

how luxuriant and loving is her current attire,
for not a whisper impedes our head.
like the soaring sea birds,
the isle and our anticipation floats higher.

all sandwiched on a narrow sliver of land,
between sea and hill.....
trinket peddlers,
kamikazi taxi drivers,
swarming tourist
and teetering legs
will greet our arrival.

open air cafes,
ribbon beaches,
vacationing secretaries,
and good cheap rum
will silence our complaining souls.

our mistress lustfully awaits our return
for we sail again at monday's first light.

 

[xC0000005]

I'm no poet, but I like to write, and I kept a sort of online diary this year, focusing more on the "feeling" of beekeeping than anything else. I'm somewhat embarassed of the content now, because looking back at it, I see all the flaws in it, but there are some good things. The summary article is here. Some make better reading than others - Bee Time, and Last Flight of the Forager

Just don't vet them for factual accuracy - each of these represented what I knew at the time, there are glaring problems. What's been really surprising is the number of "Hey, a there's a clump of bees in our tree. Since you're a beekeeper, what kind of raid should I spray them with?" emails I've gotten. It's also pleasing how well most people respond with just simple education. Unfortunately, none in my area where I could collect them, but one day, maybe.

 

[dickm]

XC0000005,
I enjoyed the Last Flight.... I'd like to use it in our bee clubs newletter. No payment, sorry. Some kids will see it.

Dickm

 

[TwT]

the Last Flight is really good, I really enjoyed it also.

 

[xC0000005]

You are welcome to use them however - I don't mind. If you want, I'll mail you an edited version (this was pretty raw).

TwT - glad you liked it.

 

[dickm]

Thanks,
It will be months before I use it, but will send a copy of the news letter when I do.

Send to [email protected] With your human name.

Dickm
What else is out there for kids?

[ January 07, 2006, 10:45 AM: Message edited by: dickm ]

 

[Dick Allen]

'Last Flight of the Forager'-- reminiscient of style and quality of 'The Queen Must Die'.

good one xC0000005.

 

[sqkcrk]

dickm, use the originally posted poem that I started this off with. Just give me credit, not cash or royalty. In otherwords you have my permission.

Mark