Birds And Bees Poem by James McLain

A bird and one little, bee.


And you are scolded black..
and blue..hear their view..
and they crush your smile?
and they make you feel
like, you have to look
away from it, and in them...
back out of the sun..
dark side of the moon..
Seeing you once as blind..
When is where you run out to..
Where is how you fall into...
those hives of troubled sleep..
and your mind lost..
between the snug tight wings..
Sweet honey...
hides inside the old oak tree..
around it fly's a bee..

They do not understand you
and if they do, some have
been taught to make you feel
dirty...and you will go blind
terrible sad and bad, when
and if you do it, is it bad?

It is simply a bird, happy..
to sing and play with a bee..
why do some say..
it is not good to be happy...
just because you are young..
and you find new ways,
to get stung,
Do you not feel thus ashamed...
because they...
Do not those parts of your brain
grow awed...
and red hot, when you are stung..
so much so...white it is blind again...
you blush thinking this cannot be..
and yes..
but you do..
that it is normal to..

when you wake up..
and you trust the touch..
of your nose...
anything under heaven you grasp...
but this is all to something new...
and you get scared and don't
know, what is light or dark..
but to the heart of it,
you must know.
and so you move off deeper..
back inside your mind even more... -

You don't ask them...when then..
have you ever fought so hard..
to trust...why must you cry..
to turn..never still.. but over....
and over inside.. once again..
must I...
bury all my tomorrows again..

Mother and Father of your sins..
So you must,
never stay any more thus ashamed...
of that warm feeling in you..
because...
it is some times these thoughts
in your head that are very bright, and still
your mind flushes as the burning sun rises,
when that moment of blindness comes,
like a dream inside of you arranged,
some ocean deep waves, inside of you....

Suns of the fire and how it enslaves you...

The sting upon your one and only...
no finger..can never undue it..
the flame returns cool..
and when it left so hot....
again to guide you off...
until i..the sun comes round again..
My honey bee and me,
that brings the sting and sings
of flowers only to me.