Animal Poem

I have just started Year 11 and have been inspired by my Teacher and a movie we watched - Dead Poets Society. My Teacher asked that our class write a poem on something that happens every day. I decided to write about a bee, because people see them all the time but only recognize them for their sting. My poem (the first) tries to show both sides to the bee.

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Oh yes, the bee you are right! People associate the bee as something to sting them. I know I do. I'm allergic to the bee sting. I have to carry an injection to give myself a shot to...

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The Bee

©

Published: February 2009

The flapping of its wings similar to a fly,
But when listening carefully you can hear the droning reply.

Once heard you immediately know its purpose,
Yellow flowers, black flowers - collecting pollen to surplus.

Buzzing flower to flower,
Flying aimlessly through the sky.
People may be reluctant to admit,
There is more than meets the eye.

It holds the pollen close to its chest like a baby.
Its pride, passion, life - even more maybe.

Though there comes a time when life must end.
Sting, buzzing, silence.
But before this it must go through what we cannot comprehend.
Organs torn, it carries on - Flower to flower. Weaker and weaker.
Dead before long

The yellow for pollen and honey,
The black for sting and bulbous eyes.
These are the colours that represent,
The bee's striped lines of life and death.

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • by Jac Judy A. Campbell, calif
  • 9 months ago

Oh yes, the bee you are right! People associate the bee as something to sting them. I know I do. I'm allergic to the bee sting. I have to carry an injection to give myself a shot to counteract the poison. I have been in the hospital several times. I have been bit on my hand, foot, arm, the top of my head, finger, and cheek. But I know for sure without the honey bees it would be very hard to feed ourselves. They are very hard workers and work hard to pollenate so much of what we eat, about 1/3 to be exact, so I truly say I have a large amount of respect for them. And I have learned to stay out of their way, and that keeps me happy! Cute poem.
Jac Judy A. Campbell

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