Zz (a poem)
[began 3 August 1998 in M.C.I., finished 28 August 2008 in E.OH.]
A fuzzy
Bumble bee
Was buzzing
Near my tree
I notizzed him
He notizzed me
My leavezz fell azz
He hooted like an owl
And sstartled me
Turned fuzz to fuss
- Jesus Crisis
A fuzzy
Bumble bee
Was buzzing
Near my tree
I notizzed him
He notizzed me
My leavezz fell azz
He hooted like an owl
And sstartled me
Turned fuzz to fuss
- Jesus Crisis
Some how I knew this blog would eventually get down to the birdzz and the beezz...
I'm mildly amused there are no expletivezz.... but I'm not dizzappointed.. it'zz a nice poem...
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Thanks, Chris!
I just made the last line the second to the last and versa vice.
Sseems sstronger thiss way.
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This is what attracted me to JESUS CRISIS
the flash and glitter is nice
but this is a poet
first and foremost a wonderful creature
http://poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=816934&sitename=charlax&password=&poemoffset=0&displaypoem=t&item=poetry
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Thank you very much, Charles!
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Geezzz
Theezzz fuzzi beeezzz
Polinate the leevzzz
of flowerzzz and treezzz
Hooting and rooting?
WOW!! Pleezzzing soundzz zzzz...!!
Earzz filled with glue,
Izz with teerzzz from
Abominable feerzzz
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Zzzz...
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American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This fe·tor Audio Help (fē'tər, -tôr') Pronunciation Key
n. An offensive odor; a stench. See Synonyms at stench.
[Middle English fetoure, from Latin fētor, from fētēre, to stink.]
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/foetor
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That's where we get our word fetid. Not to be confused with the French fête, which is a party or festival
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Then again, French came from Latin, so maybe they are related. I should dig out my Oxford English Dictionary and find out....
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Laughing my azzz off at thizzz one, JC!
Did you get a buzzzzz from lunch today?
Bumble in the jungle? ZZZZorry, I'm zzzztill at work, and am a little zzpacey-- have to zzzay, thizz izz not quite up to "I.C" zzztandardzz-- but it izzz cute, neverthelezz. Zzzhowzzz your whimzzical zzzzzzide! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
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Thanks, Dianne!
Curious that folks find this so funny.... It has an amusing element, and it is unlike much of what I've posted - but I still consider it a serious metaphor. Sometimes the annoying little "bee" we shoo away is really a wise old owl seeking to wake us from our zzzlumber. We take the bee seriously, but only as a threat or a pesky interference (in reality, he is a blessing in disguise).
We don't realize it is only a bee because we perceive it to be so. It is just as much an owl, a fountain of wisdom.
Kinda like the gadfly in Buddhist philosophy, I suppose....
Perhaps such is Bee-ing....
But one cool thing about poetry is it can be or show or say different things to different people. Only I know my context when I wrote it. Others have different contexts and interpret it differently - but you can see it differently and still have just as valid a handle on it as me. I find the different perspectives amusing and illuminating - don't mind them at all.
Another layer of meaning in this... the bee could represent the parole board, who'd just flopped me (given me 6 more years in prison) before I wrote this. I was trying to look for wisdom / meaning / blessing in the bee sting - because I needed to do so to maintain a reason to live. Trying to see it as an owl, as leaves fell and I would soon leave behind poetry for about 10 years.
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Now see without you sharing all that I though it was was a nice nature poem... now it is filled with all sorts of angst.. and I will never see it the same again...
Hidden metaphors... hmmmm...
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Azz alwayzz, when you explain what your conditions were at the time, and what context you had in mind, the poem takes on a whole new light and life. This one was a bit more obscure, but I like the "Bee-ing" comment you made- tied in nicely to your explanation. I have to admit, I was sneaking a look at the Chronicles site from work, and was a bit worried about being buzzzzted, when I wrote my hasty comment. I should have realizzzzed that the poem was deeper than it seemed--forgive me! Conzzzzider me illuminated!
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LOL... The older poems seems to benefit more from a bit of explanation, perhaps because I'm a bit more lucid now, perhaps because it's eazzier to see where I'm coming from now than it izz to see where I wazz coming from in the hazy past. Maybe that's why sometimes have less patience with the older pieces - I, too, see them differently than I saw them then, for better or worse.
I'm honored that you would sneak a peak of the site at work. Makes me feel zpezzial....
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Well, for once I'm glad I'm late to the party, lol! These comments and our lord's analysis of his poem present such an insight into what I could have easily dismissed... or should I say, dizzmizzed, lol?... as a simplistic musing. As always, dear JC, your poem impresses me, as do you, with your profound thoughts and fascinating expression thereof....
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Thank you, Minister!
Sometimes, I'm sad to say, I prefer fuzz to fuss...
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To beezz or not to beezz is the question.
Beezz also make cellz in honeycombzz but I suppose there is no honey in the cellz
you were in. Smile...
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P. SSS. I still think this poem is warm and fuzzzzy in spite of the owlie hooting.
zzzz going to sleep now. Pazt my bedtime.
Owlz hoot at nite, beezz are daytime critterzz.
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I did find some honey there - some good people - the opportunity to discover and develop some talents I didn't know I had - et cetera. More honey than one might expect... But there were plenty of stingers, too.
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BAD BOY! Did you squash that little guy???? Maybe I should mind my own BEEEEZZZZNNEESSSS!
I LOVE IT!!!
Namaste'
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lol... I'm sstill trying to figure out who ssquashed who!
Thanks, Shyloh!
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OK, here's may take on the poem.
I too thought it just a little observation of the natural world, sad that it was written within the confines of prison.
But was caught most by my own personal connection to the date... this was written three days before my 37th birthday and a month and two days before my older sister died of breast cancer. She was already slowly dying in Mt Sinai in Cleveland, blind, semiconscious, and fighting fate.
At times like that, and I suppose at times when parole boards cut you off at the knees, you see something like a bee and the insect talks to you. Or you remember exactly the smell of twilight cigarette smoke or the taste of an overripe mango.
I hear you, JC, ten years later... sorry to burden you with my mourning...
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Thank you, Pinky! No burden at all....
In fact your comment means a great deal to me, and I am grateful that you've shared it. At the time I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I couldn't really see that some folks were going through far worse things than me. Humbling....
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I am feeling very philosophical this a.m.
about a lot of things. How interesting that you did find honey in your cells. And Pinky most of us have gone through pain of death of loved ones. I lost father, husband and mother in less than three years. But now I look at the pain of others and am constantly grateful for my fortunate existence and I know JC also feels this way about his past. In every poem he writes there is something hidden, and the message may be interpreted differently by others.
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