The Bee's Song

I’m a busy bee
can’t you see?
that whatever I do
is for the honey due.

I habitually fly all around from tree to flowers
usually during the warmth of the sunny hours,
and when I’ve gathered as much as I can carry
I fly quickly away back home and do not tarry.

I gather nectar and bring it home
and in this task I’m not ever alone.
In doing my daily work I’m so pre-occupied
I can’t really afford to just sit around inside.

I live in a hive with drones of my kind serving a sovereign queen
and together we all go about our daily business being very keen.
We’re generally praised very highly for the work that we do
as it is our unique nature to make honey from morning dew.

poem by George Krokos
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Between the amateur and the professional... there is a difference not only in degree but in kind. The skillful man is, within the function of his skill, a different psychological organization... A tennis player or a watchmaker or an airplane pilot is an automatism but he is also criticism and wisdom.

quote by Bernard De Voto
Added by Lucian Velea
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Museum Of The City Of...II

Behind their frozen forms, behind
the ribbed webs of their flipper-slippers,
in the distance dim
a stern-to-bow-with-garbage-laden scow
calmly plows the current-riven stream.
One unseaworthy old ark, 'way off-
(an obvious ancestor of the Circle Line)
triple-tiered and crammed with fun-seekers-
over whose rail a few vigilants hang
frozen in open-mouthed surprise-
(bringing to mind Auden's 'Musee des Beaux Arts',
but that's neither here nor there)
-to see three wet-suited men dropp from the skies:
eternally expecting a splash that never comes;
and wouldn't a bully pleasure yacht
cruising nearby reveal itself whole, but for that
misadventurous plunge into the frame,
cropping it in halves.
Up in the sky a twin-engine out of La Guardia,
props awhirl,

[...] Read more

poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Otters And Their Mermaids

Bride and groom matchsticks—
Burning by striking until there are little brush fires
Underneath the mobiles of penny-ante mountains—
And they name them,
As they turn around blazing for a life time—
The very exact things that fill up trailer parks and
Apartment buildings and, sometimes, teepees—
While the beautiful airplanes whisper above them—
Offering things to the moonless atmosphere—
Until the people go out shopping again,
Amassing in the hazards of their amusements,
Bivouacking in the coliseums that fold up eagerly filled
With pledges—
And the blue collared antelope dream of the otters
And their mermaids, until the day disappears underneath
A swing set taller than all of the world.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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My Lady The Moon, And I The Sun.

Moon needs Sun's light,
For the life of her unborn harvest,
A ray simply comes as guest,
The Moon enjoys the ecstasy's taste,

The moon buds, blooms,
The Sun often turns bee,
As if upon a flower sits the drone he.

The Sun is beyond our grasp,
Yet with its heat and light we live,
Our psychic and imagination control us,
And the body react with their touch.

Dear lady, you the Moon,
And your lover, say me, the sun,
Are here for, sense's fun,
In our child, -the moon peeps,
And the sun its seed reaps.

poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
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Eight minutes

High above the Canyon’s edge,
Far above the ancient clay,
The helicopter hovers there
Like a dragonfly at play.

With my jet pack on my back
I coolly, calmly step away.
Gain separation from the blades,
Freefall starts my epic day.

On stubby wings the jet packs fire
I’m Daedalus in the morning light.
I soar across the canyon’s rim.
Laughing like some hell born sprite

One hundred eighty miles an hour,
The wind whips cold despite the sun
I glide toward my landing zone
The jet packs sputter and are done.

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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When Early March Seems Middle May

When country roads begin to thaw
In mottled spots of damp and dust,
And fences by the margin draw
Along the frosty crust
Their graphic silhouettes, I say,
The Spring is coming round this way.

When morning-time is bright with sun
And keen with wind, and both confuse
The dancing, glancing eyes of one
With tears that ooze and ooze--
And nose-tips weep as well as they,
The Spring is coming round this way.

When suddenly some shadow-bird
Goes wavering beneath the gaze,
And through the hedge the moan is heard
Of kine that fain would graze
In grasses new, I smile and say,
The Spring is coming round this way.

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Very Image - To Rene Magritte

An image of my grandmother
her head appearing upside-down upon a cloud
the cloud transfixed on the steeple
of a deserted railway-station
far away

An image of an aqueduct
with a dead crow hanging from the first arch
a modern-style chair from the second
a fir-tree lodged in the third
and the whole scene sprinkled with snow

An image of a piano-tuner
with a basket of prawns on his shoulder
and a firescreen under his arm
his moustache made of clay-clotted twigs
and his cheeks daubed with wine

An image of an aeroplane
the propellor is rashers of bacon

[...] Read more

poem by David Gascoyne
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The Cassinga jump (Enclosed Triplet)

That night great strain was on each youthful face,
in the hangar we did equipment check,
called-up each from a different place.

The Hercules roared at a quick pace
as in many sticks we were strapped in,
with the flashing red light my heart did race;

to some an enemy jump is commonplace,
a paratrooper did vomit on me
and I begged God for His saving grace.

Suddenly I had to step into space,
I heard the roar of anti-aircraft guns,
snipers in trees was another menace

while I felt the wind’s jerking soft embrace,
as we got down in a wooded terrain,
saw some women of the fleeing populace,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Montserrat

Fires on the mountain, and the dogs bark.
Crash of the ocean swelling: crickets in the dark.
The temperature is rising. the village gets no sleep.
Its hardly surprising, given the hot company they keep.
Somebodys home in the ash-fall margins;
Somebodys life in the lost and found.
Breaking news from the hotel vue pointe.
Sinking feeling, sink another beer down.
Hey, jimmy. what you doing here?
Looking up at the high cloud cover, so far and yet so near.
Flying in with the chopper. lieutenant of the crown.
Tell the boys from that cnn, the good cops have come to town.
Angry island, no-ones listening. shamrock villa, green to grey.
Down in the swamp, iguanas glistening.
Toast tomorrow, if not, today.
Hey, jimmy. what you doing here?
You a scientist? you a newsman? or simply come to feel the fear?
The temperature is rising. and were in too deep.
There really is no point in disguising the hot company we keep.

song performed by Jethro Tull
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The Solitary Huntsman

The solitary huntsman
No coat of pink doth wear,
But midnight black from cap to spur
Upon his midnight mare.
He drones a tuneless jingle
In lieu of tally-ho:
“I’ll catch a fox
And put him in a box
And never let him go.”

The solitary huntsman,
He follows silent hounds.
No horn proclaims his joyless sport,
And never a hoofbeat sounds.
His hundred hounds, his thousands,
Their master’s will they know:
To catch a fox
And put him in a box
And never let him go.

[...] Read more

poem by Ogden Nash
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Doubled Up

I saw a mountain from higher above.
I held your hand and I was doubled up in love.
Big sky above me, a river inside me
And Im doubled up in love.
Youre watching your step but you fall as youre walking.
You take it in stride but still you fall as youre walking.
Big sky above me, a river inside me
And Im doubled up in love.
Feels good it feels like poetry
Dont ask me to explain it just
Feels good, like poetry,
Im doubled up again.
Look at the sky,
Lift off like an aeroplane,
Watch the ground come up to meet you.
Big sky above me, a river inside me
And Im doubled up in love.
Feels good, it feels like poetry,
Dont ask me to explain it just
Feels good, like poetry.

[...] Read more

song performed by Heather Nova
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Mom

She comes, a wizened, ruined thing,
Who wants no more, no less, than to
Be served and heard. She rattles off
Her trove of tales, each told a hundred
Times before, and, in the telling, tortured
Into fantasies of principle and pluck,
Of proof that, though she cowers,
Home, alone, she is, in fact, someone
Of worth. The world's learned. She
Thinks I should. I squirm in silence,
Knowing, as I have since I was young,
That nothing I have done would mean
A thing to her. She hasn't come for
Conversation. She is here to be adored,
And, as she drones, I dream of saying,
'You once raised me, Mother. Thanks.
I guess you did the best you could,
But, now, I find you awful and I wish
That you were gone.'

poem by Lawrence Beck
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Heart be still, the sun goes down

Stille, hjerte, sol går ned
(Heart be still, the sun goes down)

Heart; be still, the sun goes down,
Smiling over the meadows,
Sheep and cows are homeward bound
Through the deepening shadows,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.

Silence falls on lanes and lea,
Restless day is over;
One belated bumblebee
Drones among the clover,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.

Softly now the haze is stirred
From the lowlands lifting;
Over the treetops skims a bird,
Fleecy clouds are drifting,
Heart, be still, be still, the sun goes down.

[...] Read more

poem by Jeppe Aakjaer
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The Fits of Weather

Sunlight on a snake in between the
Rabbits and the caesuras:
And it seems that she has the sunlight in her eyes,
Like the birthday candles of good luck,
While the airplanes curl and caracole:
And Sharon never looked so beautiful, even though
Now I hardly have to think of her,
Because I have different pains that are more impending,
And I house I come home to be alone in,
While my pets move in the north, waiting for me with
More faith that I will ever have:
And the snake looks away to other pornographies
Waiting for little boys in the abandoned cars of their
Drunken fathers:
And he goes to her, and they curl around for awhile,
Dancing,
While I wait for the fits of weather that I am sure are
Just around the bend.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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An Open Letter To Mosquitoes

Oh mosquitoes! Humming
like a helicopter shoddy,
And landing on a helipad
of our fragile body.

If you want to drink our
blood, just drink, who cares,
Because many do the same
from our soul, puerile and bare.

Learn to sip it gently as a
politician of this world does,
Without making loud noise
without making much fuss.

Our other complain is why you
need to sing music in our ears,
Did you have Mozart, Beatles
Madonna or Jackson as peers.

[...] Read more

poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Clash Of Civilizations

With prescience, he sang the about the clash
that faces our uncivil civilizations,
whose differences might lead to nuclear ash
descending from the skies on all the nations.
He wrote that peaceful plowshares would be turned
to swords because of differences between
religions whose intensity still burned,
destructively addictive as morphine,
far more intensely in the heart and mind
than ideologies that atrophied
like plants for which the prophet Jonah pined
when Ninevites accepted his new creed.
The clash that Samuel Huntington foresaw
materialized, we saw, on 9/11
when we found out some people wish to soar
straight from earth’s kingdom to hubristic heaven,
and in autos da fe compound their error
by their rejection of reality, and try
to change the universe with acts of terror
performed the very moment that they die.

[...] Read more

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Nor Width or Depth of It

You can not define my man-ness.
No height...
Nor width or depth of it!
You may observe,
A stress perhaps projected.
The feelings felt...
None like me have dealt with.
I am not part of a collective drone...
Buzzing in a hive as if a clone!
You may believe,
You know my needs.
Perceived from observances...
Randomly received.
Inside am I alone with thought.
In this shell to me God has brought.
A manhood of an expression.
To live and to give...
Without delivery of confession.
To perform is my deed.
The reason of my profession.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And we kissing through It

In a depression recession tribulation
Me & her hurting for money
And we kissing through It
Watching money watch online
She said do you think
We will survive
I say baby it's up to god
I'm just a maker of this relationship
And we kissing through It
Don't hurt baby don't cry
Buy you a napkin whip your tears away
Tomorrow that new day
Why oh do they think
That we can survive
The way government hurt us
People joke now I got her
This is my planet we run things
Mine & her airplane
Got five G's so fast see
And we kissing through It

[...] Read more

poem by Tommy Laster
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Drowned (Stream XIII)

Once in peace I dreamed
But now the worlds noise intrudes.
Shattering the peace.
Pernicious.
Creeping under the door,
Seeping in through the windows.
To drip perpetual over sills
Absorbed by walls,
They shudder to the thunderous roar.
A never ending cacophony;
The incessant traffic buzz
Which drones, vibrating bone,
Drilling the skull.
The brazen blare of horns,
Raucous metallic sounds.
They drown out city birds
And their melodious song
Which caressed the ear.
No longer heard
Cannot compete so become absorbed

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Brookes
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