Battle Hymn

Rage with no escape strategy

If you’ve ever thrown a stone at a beehive,

You know they don’t fly out immediately.

 

They thrash like blood in a broken centrifuge,

Spilling out occasionally

Through the sides,

The hum of them like a power transformer about to burst.

 

We were asleep in the hive

When the second stone hit.

Then we crawled from our combs to sting

Any foreign entity.

 

But with a bee colony, eventually,

They all are flung out

By their centripetal swirling,

And gather together in air

To locate their threat for attack.

 

We thought that was how we were,

But the exits to our hive were sealed so securely,

That our wakened swarm was contained within,

And all our exoskeletons were torn

By our own torpor. 

Reviews

[A Glow in the Pit of My..]

Love this concept. Your choice of words, both powerful and eloquent.

[Rene Velez]

A good write with view points, well done.

[7ofspades]

i enjoyed how you compared the intrinsic character of bees to that of a broken centrifuge. great poem!