Nasty little buggers ... Naw, I love'em. But I'm writing about bugs now. What will be next?

Sweet the sting

In the stories,
the bee always told the flower it was
the single most beautiful thing it had seen
before it stung

I am troubled that there were no words
and no comfort offered me as its relative
buried its stinger in my arm.

Can I not trust
what I was told as little? Do not nature
ask permission and forgiveness of it's victim
at all,

or is merely that I,
unlike the Roses and Caprifoles, am no flower,
and share no sweet nectar or sugar for honey
and hungry bees,

but cry out a shrill scream
while dancing around the yellow field trampling the real flowers
with no regard for the creatures that I learned to love
as a child.

Poetry by muddy waters
Read 624 times
Written on 2006-04-04 at 10:36

Tags Child  Sting  Bee 

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Zoya Zaidi
Very heart felt poem. Yes, it does happen in life and you are left wondering: "Why me of all the people?" But, believe me it happens to every one, and we all learn to get over it eventually. Because when life throws up a problem, it also provides answers; it is a question of making the right choice at the right time. May be it was right choice at the wrong time, or wrong choice at the right time or both! What ever, there is always a next time!
So, take heart!
Welcome to the bay!
Love, xxx, Zoya

Jon Hanover
Curious as to why you chose the name Muddy Waters ? Apart from that being a legendary Blues/Rock musician, and what the state of Mississippi is known for. Cannot see anyplace in Norway having muddy waters except after spring melt. Good poem, shows a loss of innocence for finding perils in the world you were never told of when you were a child. Though the bee dies after it stings you, you talk about how you take away any reason for it to live in reaction to it attacking you. As long as it is not the " killer bees " from Africa then any bumble bee can be tolerated, I hate wasps though they can live to sting again again and again.