The Wild Bees Poem by Mystic Indian

Mystic Indian

Mystic Indian

karaikal, Pondicherry State, India presently living in Madras, Tamilnadu State, India
Mystic Indian
karaikal, Pondicherry State, India presently living in Madras, Tamilnadu State, India

The Wild Bees

Rating: 5.0


'Tis dawn as the warmth of the sun embraces every being on earth;
As high up on the branches of the butter fruit tree –
there thrives a golden hive,
That’s camouflaged amongst the green fruits and the thicket of leaves.
The warmth of the sun’s splendor spreads into the hive -into every cell and chamber,
As the hive glows and sparkles in strange hues of golden light and amber.
Like the first fruit to ripen fast into a deep golden yellow;
drippin a stray dropp of honey onto the ground –
leaving them ants drunk and mellow.
For years, the hive has grown, and is shaping into a large heart,
as it sways on softly to the breeze–This ain’t the dance
– as the real one of the forest is ours and is about to start.

I don’t remember, when our hive was born –
‘twas was spoken to be the biggest ever to form;
Our elders taught us all before our first ever flight;
And we inherited their lives and ways as we were told-
That we're designed and destined to protect the habitat.
For each day for us is consistently inconsistent
As the hive was always abuzz
with new births, deaths, cleaning and feeding chores;
We are out of our chambers and already at work – ‘Twas part of our being;
One life resonating in hundreds of others like me;
One tone and sound –that brings life to this jungle around;
I’m proud to be in my world within a world
like nowhere you’ve seen.
In all, the whole hive in itself,
is just one large being.


Don’t compare us to the ethereal forest fairies
who can dance and sing;
‘cause we can also give you a nasty sting;
We only attack when we have to defend and we mean no harm;
You can stand the bite and go on to live and you’d still come back...
But several of our kind, die after they lose their stings;
and we don’t come back to you but go on.. and that’s Life’s charm.
Yet, we're loved & waited upon by you thieves – wild bears and men
‘cause we possess a gift to make honey as no can;

As the comb stretches and grows, heavy and ripe;
‘Tis time to go out and collect more and thrive;
We wait eagerly to dive into the free air;
As the first collectors who set out return delighted;
They hit the dance floor straight and excited;
their wings flutter as they enter into the circle and waggle
With music from the sounds of the fluttering and buzzing, the floor dazzles.
We watch and join in as we learn;
There were new carpets of flowers they had found;
There’s more nectar if we flew west ward bound;
'Tis now our turn –
‘Tis now my turn to fly- Sunshine here I come!


With our work routine clocked by the sun;
and our flight plan tuned into our built in GPS;
My fellow workers and I fly and grace past meadows
and fields so green;
To the flowers that were so far unseen;
As I whiz past reds, yellows and blues
In a garden of colours that easily rival the rainbow's hues.
The flowers are full and dripping with nectar every morning;
We dive in greedily and yet we are invited
As they eagerly sway with their heads in the wind – excited.
There’s a riot of a cocktail of fragrances in the air –
from the aromatic to the pungent flair
I draw them with a deep breath- all in to my being
and the flavours mix and magically and oddly sweeten the tongue.
Collecting the nectar for honey to be,
We are drinking, flying dizzy, intoxicated into madness;
There was no room for sadness;


I managed to stay in the crowd and yet stay unnoticed;
and I flew as low as I can,
‘cause I alone knew that I had a different flight plan.
I’m in search of the new flower with the mysterious scent
cause it had a different note and different accent
and that didn’t allow me to sleep all night.
To my surprise I found her – yes.. Her..
she was new but one of our kind;
And I smiled and noticed that I was only one and the first to find her there.
She was the most beautiful queen I have seen; -strange and mysterious;
Sitting atop a plant, quietly looking and still;
I could feel the world around me come alive
So now I can build my own hive!
I don’t wait, and i don’t think.
‘Cause Time wasted is love lost;
I dive fast and towards her, grab her and hold her in a deep embrace –
With all the love and all the lust.
She never moved, nor ever spake,
For a moment, I knew I was in heaven.
‘Cause I could feel that she had that divine fragrance
And it was her scent that the flowers had stolen;
I quickly open my eyes to see,
That now she’s not near me
And that I was blinded for a moment,
and I had fallen in a bed of pollen;
I look around, and ah.. There she is again,
resting on another plant, and I rush back to her
and hold her tight;
and I notice that something is not right;
And it then dawns into my little mind;
That its not one of our kind
but orchids that have evolved in our form;
They glow in bliss having made love through my being,
as my heart was filled with anger and hate -
I have played stupid cupid taking pollen
to those two who wanted to mate;
I can feel now my own sting
The heartfelt love of mine – stolen.


I fly back to the group and reconcile
And feel the anger and hate disappear
Cause Its now that I realise and mature
That nature has to imitate nature;
We return back home to find;
That there’s no home - our hive was broken,
and our honey and home – stolen.
A man on the ground so low
lifted his head up looking at us, smiling, raising his brow;
' How does the honey taste? Did you like it?
At least, be courteous and thankful, man! '
It's now I realize and remember our history,
that there's actually more to the story.
That the bigger dance was mother nature’s
'Twas was her dance. 'Twas was her way.
Our beloved Queen has survived along a few;
we quickly regroup with hope anew;
We decide to fly higher into the mountains
Where no bear or man or monkey can reach;
We have to build another hive, take another chance.
Before we leave the past and butter fruit tree,
we join together, for one last dance.

Anjali Sinha 24 August 2009

OMG! ! ! what a tryst with life a complete circle awesome and rich in text ill give you a tenner anjali

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Patrick A. Martin 24 August 2009

The complete cycle brillant

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Joycee Dimple 11 August 2009

This is an amazing piece of work that has got all the elements of life, the dance, the flight, the one's life ever complete without these emotions? It's an adept poet's proficent craft. You have created a brilliant world of bees with an entourage of elegant nature and it's wild beauty...we continue to see the best of your works...each time a surprise package..completely different in dimension and expression from your previous works...

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Obinna Eruchie 26 September 2009

This lovely lyrical poem on 'The Wild Bees' comes with beautiful imagery. Imaginative.

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Shreya Chatterjee 18 September 2009

you kind of remind me of kamala das's poems, the one about just reminded me of my school days friend... take care

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Ravi Sathasivam 06 September 2009

This is an amazing piece of work. The complete cycle of life Well written poem. Thanks for sharing with me

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there is a poet in me! 02 September 2009

wow... awesome work.... so beautiful.. truly a lovely write... a 10+++

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Chitra - 01 September 2009

a dynamic write on the ever changing life cycle....resonating images

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Mystic Indian

Mystic Indian

karaikal, Pondicherry State, India presently living in Madras, Tamilnadu State, India
Mystic Indian
karaikal, Pondicherry State, India presently living in Madras, Tamilnadu State, India
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