Dead Bee Poem

 

 

TOM - I might not know much about poetry Dick but I know that’s a rubbish poem. It’s art wank!

THHHAaaaaWWWaccckkkkkkKKKK

TOM - Ouch! Hitting me with yer frying pan don’t stop yer poem from being pants.

THHHAaaaaWWWaccckkkkkkKKKK

DICK - It so is not Tom, it’s about them poor bees that get them bee diseases and end up deaduns which is how you’ll end up if you don’t hush up. It’s because I’m a poetry genius that you just don’t understand me.

TOM - I’m understanding a rubbish poem when I see one.

THHHAaaaaWWWaccckkkkkkKKKK

DICK - No, you ain’t, right! ‘Cos it’s a poem, a sad poem Tom, boo hoo sad, about the dead bee on the window sil. - You gotta stand up now and say a prayer Tom.

TOM - Eh?

DICK - For the dead bee.

TOM - I thought you were supposed to say prayers kneeling down

DICK - No Tom.  You gotta close yer eyes and put yer hands together like a little angel all dressed in white with wings wearing a serene look on your face and little tiny tears in yer eyes. 

Stand up or I’ll thump yer!

TOM - Eh?

DICK - Do it!

TOM - OK.  OK.  So sad.  Sniff sniff.

DICK -

A Prayer For A Dead Bee:

Anthidium manicatum   Hoplitis anthocopoides
Osmia coerulescens   Halictus gramineus
Camptopoeum miribile    Megachile desertorum
Dioxys formosa    Crocisa aberrans    Nomada fucata 
Andrena cettii    Andrena fulvicrus    Andrena fulva   
Dianthidium     
Amen

TOM - Eh? You just made all that up.

DICK - No! I never did. And you gotta say Amen Tom or it ain’t a real prayer.

TOM - Amen Tom. But it wouldn’t be a deadun if you hadn’t swatted it with a rolled up newspaper.

DICK - I was trying to write a poem. All that buzz buzz buzzing was getting right on me nerves.

TOM - Anyway, all this talk of bees, do you fancy some toast and honey for tea?

DICK - Yeah. Lashings of honey. Mmmm, is there honey for tea? That sounds good, I might put that in a poem somewhere. Nah! I dunno, on second thoughts, as there’s always honey for tea it’s a bit of a redundant question. So it’s a bit rubbish really. Stupid idea. It’s no way to be a poet writing stupid stuff like that.

 

 

(Only one bee was harmed in the making of this poem. His name was Colin and he will be greatly missed by his family, friends and fellow workers at the the honey factory. The Queen deeply regrets the loss of Colin, a very valued worker, and sends her condolences to Colin’s family.)