I have got myself hooked into the lighter animal thing and so we begin with the humble honey bee.
Strictly speaking it can’t fly at all,
it’s body is heavy and the wings are too small.
that’s why in flight it zigs and zags,
when carrying the nectar - flying drags!
It lives and works in an organised town,
drones, eggs and a queen to look down,
and view the results of all the efforts,
of her subjects in black and yellow sweaters.
We humans would be lost without them,
pollinating the flowers on every stem,
bringing us food for every year,
keeping Earth free from hunger and fear.
This next poem is focussed on the release of imagination and is based in part on my own dreams and also words that trigger thoughts on the darker side.
I lay a long time last night waiting for sleep to come,
a child would call for Mum or suck a thumb,
but when you attain 65
those options are no longer alive.
Thoughts circling in my head,
as vultures waiting for the dead,
Vaudeville acts taking to the stage,
entertainments from a bygone age
Staring into the eyes of madness,
an owner plainly dangerous,
a smile that may touch those evil optics,
deception in the unsmiling lips.
The future calendar dominates thoughts,
traps, pitfalls, hazards of all sorts,
better to remain as one,
and live a calmer life alone.
A lion stalks corridors and halls,
piercing eyes and drooling jaws,
why does it enter in the night,
it can’t be any danger right?
The subconscious uses sleep to trick,
it bends the mind in manner slick,
serving up what bright daytimes lack,
utilising the hours of black.
© David L Atkinson October 2015