The Human Bee
I became a human bee at twelve,
when they gave me my small wand,
my flask of pollen,
and I walked with the other bees
out to the orchards.
I worked first in apples,
climbed the ladder
into the childless arms of a tree
and busied myself, dipping and tickling.
duping and tackling, tracing
the petal's guidelines
down to the stigma.
Human, humming,
I knew my lessons by heart:
the ovary would become the fruit,
the ovule the seed,
fertilised by my golden touch,
my Midas touch.
I moved to lemons,
head and shoulders
lost in blossom; dawn till dusk,
my delicate blessing.
All must be docile, kind, unfraught
for one fruit -
pomegranate, lychee,
nectarine, peach, the rhymeless orange.
And if an opening
was out of range,
I'd jump from my ladder onto a branch
and reach.
So that was my working life as a bee,
till my eyesight blurred,
my hand was a trembling bird
in the leaves,
the bones of my fingers thinner than wands.
And when they retired me,
I had my wine from the silent vines,
and I'd known love,
and I'd saved some money -
but I could not fly and I made no honey.
Tuesday, 30 April 2019
Tuesday, 23 April 2019
Aphasia by Brian Patten
This morning we munched on Maryland Choc Chip cookies and read poetry by Brian Patten and Pam Ayres. We loved the poem below, some of our friends have aphasia and this poem prompted a good chat and helped us all to understand it better.
Aphasia
I’m seven, and I’m dead bright,
But words give me a fright.
Words are bullies.
Sneaky things. They gabble and lie.
Sometimes trying to understand them
Makes me cry. Words hurt.
Words are all over the place,
They get shoved in my face.
I don’t know why but
Words make me cry.
I wish words were things
You could hug.
Or that they smelt nice.
I wish they came in bottles
Like fizzy drinks, or melted
Like ice-cream. But they don’t,
Words are mean. They bully me,
Lock me away
From what I want to say.
I can’t even ask for help
And I’m only seven
(And a bit).
Words spread nasty gossip.
They must. Otherwise why
Would people think I’m thick.
Words.
They make me sick
Inside.
But words give me a fright.
Words are bullies.
Sneaky things. They gabble and lie.
Sometimes trying to understand them
Makes me cry. Words hurt.
Words are all over the place,
They get shoved in my face.
I don’t know why but
Words make me cry.
I wish words were things
You could hug.
Or that they smelt nice.
I wish they came in bottles
Like fizzy drinks, or melted
Like ice-cream. But they don’t,
Words are mean. They bully me,
Lock me away
From what I want to say.
I can’t even ask for help
And I’m only seven
(And a bit).
Words spread nasty gossip.
They must. Otherwise why
Would people think I’m thick.
Words.
They make me sick
Inside.
Thursday, 4 April 2019
Coronation by Spike Milligan
Today we feasted on All Butter Stem Ginger Cookies and ready poetry by Spike Milligan.
This one's our favourite:
This one's our favourite:
Coronation
Said Prince Charles
When they placed
The Crown on his head
I suppose this means
That Mummy's dead
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