By Daniel Paiz
Once in awhile a nursery rhyme of sorts seems like something that could create some imagery that one hasn’t really tackled yet. In this simple yet picturesque piece known as “Poetry Bee”, a journey of words of honey blend in a way to hopefully transport you from where you are to the world of the bee at hand.
There once was a poetry bee,
it never stinged
but hit you melodramatically,
with words designed
to depict visions ranging
from misery to sublime,
the buzz was all around this one it seems.
Flittering flowers of nectar,
pollinating society as expected,
never concerned for the danger,
that comes along with the
tragic choice of life protected,
stingers were never really this one’s thing.
But one day out of the blue,
well pitch black devolved and changed hue,
bursting prisms of yellow, red and orange grew,
amongst forests of green,
whiffs of brown and grey too,
those similes and metaphors
no longer bloomed.
Then flew away the red herrings,
followed by the homonyms and haikus,
last to join the word tombs,
were the verbal honeycombs,
puns no longer stung,
as words failed to produce.
And like the changing of the seasons,
this bee came and went,
though unknown if its poetry,
was pollinated to be in next Spring’s batch.