POEM STARTER

‘Bees offer honey far more readily than they sting.’

Write a poem that begins with this line. What themes can this metaphor reflect?

Bee Stings

Bees offer honey far more readily than they sting, But what you offered was spite, instead of the love that you could bring. Good to watch you go, hard to be without, Always back with smiles, pushing back my doubt. A voice coated in honey, veiling the bees, Whose stinging words so sharp, could bring me to my knees. So easy to hate you, but loving comes more natural And still you toss me aside, no more than collateral Time and time again, All you give is pain Yet despite your wicked words, your temper and dishonesty “Forever I will love you,” that is what you promised me So somewhere deep inside, a kernel flaming bright Of ignorance and hope, of glowing golden light For don’t you know it’s true? My heart belongs to you No matter the hurt You put me through They say bees sting when threatened, But for me the bar is lessened Just being in your life, Hangs a sharpened knife Poised to plunge into my head, Rendering me dead The danger once excited me, At least to some degree But now it has all but snuffed, out the flame of love That you accuse me I have bluffed, My way into thereof But now your blind abuse Leads me to a hanging noose Time and time again you stung, Until I from mine neck hung Weary of your wickedness, your hateful words and actions I hope my resignation, gives you satisfaction It was you who did this, with all your charming ways You and your double faces, who led me to my final days So as they say and as it goes, Bees only offer honey to those Who in return provide a thanks so deep Their sorrows it will always reap For their poor, poor lonely eyes, See them that which would defy All knowings of such beauty The sweetest divine duty To love through sickness and in health, Which brings another kind of wealth Alas for you, it was not I, Who could show you such a blue, blue sky In that way, you are much like a bee, That loves only what it can see And as for me, That’s all I’ll be, A pretty face, lost in the crowd, Sent to join those in the clouds The fault of which is not mine, But yours till end of time.
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