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Odin odin@aflx.com

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Books
· Perceptions

· ECHOSIS

· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1

· 3 WAY MIRROR


Short Stories
· Patience Waning

· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)

· A Gentle Man

· Pacing Love's Journey

· Gratitude

· A Sticky Conversation

· Blazing Now and Then

· Vulnerable Captivity

· The Kite That Would Not Bow

· Time


Articles
· War and Peace

· Desperation Breeds Desperation

· Preference Manifest

· Innocent Guilt

· Barbed Isolation

· A Place...

· Sanity's Loss

· Organs Anonymous

· Fatuous Beyond Absurdity

· Truth is One


Poetry
· The Life-long Pernicious Evil

· Cherishing Sounds of Silence

· Understanding the Unexplainable

· Reality of Another Kind

· Finding Trust Again

· Aromalicious Memories

· A Jungle-rain Pastorale

· Sediment Within the Soul

· Life's Enormous Green Chest

· Roadkill Memoriam

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Honeybee Innocence

by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com

How easy it is to become immune to simple lessons.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


Poem Artwork
Honeybee Innocence
by Odin Roark

Transporting would be routine
The colony waited
Where thousands of fellow creatures
Respectfully deposited their wealth
Their joyful survival

It meant no harm

But the small boy couldn’t hear
After all
Honeybees can’t talk
Can they?

He had trod on the simple life
Now
Running up the hill
There throbbed within the pain
A lesson of love
A bee
A Boy
Never to really understand one another

How could he know
The creature merely reacted
Innocence acted in the dark
The bee was gathering love
Ultimately giving her life to defend

How foreign this experience remained
The boy grew
The man emerged
Discovering stings of the heart
The mind
Far out-pained the innocent bee’s barbed defense

In spite of the years

The experience stayed with him
And far down the road
As in war
Where trodding upon innocent creatures
Became the collateral norm
That one honeybee
That one creature that meant no harm
Remained the death that started a lesson
The first death he couldn’t resolve
The defensive death he dwelled on
The guilt that haunted his PTSD treatment

How simple the experience
How resistant the lesson
Why is that
He wondered





  


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Reviewed by Jansen Estrup
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
Provocative concept, Odin. Even if we all became Janists we'd still be haunted by the need to eat. Lo, vegetation is alive and feels, too ... what really is criminal (and suicidal) is the world-wide slaughter of hive after hive with petro-chemicals. That, we should lament to our graves. Bee-ing or not, meaning harm or not, we owe the very abundance of our world to this marvelous species. PTSD? Bi-polar? Sin? Evil? Willful ignorance? You stroke (or is it strike?) our consciousness Poet.

Reviewed by John Domino
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
Yes, loved the poem. So much truth in this one. All worker bee's are females and they will fight until death to protect the colony. How much more will we fight to protect our family? I used to do this without thinking. Now some of my family is so distant I hardly know them anymore. I wonder....

Reviewed by Carolyn Dye
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
I love Love when you write anything you post, it is Always heart felt.
Keep doing what you love.

Reviewed by E Phillips
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
A variation on Mandeville's paradoxes in the Fable of the Bees, perhaps:
No Bees had better Government, More Fickleness, or less Content.
They were not Slaves to Tyranny, Nor ruled by wild Democracy;
But Kings, that could not wrong, because
Their Power was circumscrib'd by Laws.

Reviewed by Budd Nelson
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
wonderful write
budd

Reviewed by Ruan Mills
Reviewed on October 9, 2013
It's a fickle world where death and lessons go hand-in-hand, but the lessons are rarely learned.
Love the poignancy of this.
Rx

Reviewed by Regis Auffray
Reviewed on October 8, 2013
A life-changing experience is often a treasure. Thank you, Odin. Love and peace to you,

Regis

Reviewed by Michael True
Reviewed on October 8, 2013
Death doth so easily spring from blood of bug, to us a natural thing. The firing of a loaded gun, not so much. If all life were sacred would our sense of cruelty be nipped in the bud? Justification unacceptable in this, our hive of love. M.True


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