A forest of smells
and yells and tales,
A season for trees
and bees and gals like me.

I wonder could there be
any sweeter pain than the gain
of one more day?

Where is my mind these days?
With what currency must I pay
for all those things that are my ways?
I’m silly today
absurd everyday
and always and forever serious.

This makes no sense!
Unsheltered bees and seasoned trees
meet with drops of rain
to rinse away my stain,
My words twist the world
As if it could bend to the will of this girl
As if I could swirl around the truth with my straw pen
I try it again and again and again.

My thoughts are my soul
and all my poems are the same,
Once again I am reminded of the pain
Sweet, sweet, but, oh, so neat.

I’ll yell to tell you the truth.

This tale I yell as this poem begins to swell
out of control; but, oh, so bold,
Isn’t that sweet? Isn’t that neat?

Boy, I sure suck this teat for all it’s worth
What a curse!
It is a shame this poem will end like me
in a long black hearse
followed by a tree and a bee
and a season of words to parade
and to lighten and shade
the deepest parts of me you will ever see
Yeah, it’s all about the bees and trees and me.

06/28/2006

Posted on 06/28/2006
Copyright © 2024 Tracy Ellen