The Dying Bee

A poem, would like constructive criticism. Needs revision.

The Dying Bee

 

 

I saw at the edge of route eleven.

Sitting on the sidewalk, health

drink in hand, smoking a cigarette.

She was on her back and struggling

until she found a twig, the only

nature around.  There, I believe,

with some comfort, she rested

until she died.  How much like

mankind huddled in brick with

concrete everywhere?

Reviews

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

I truly enjoyed this poem - the last line comparing that beautiful and melancholic scene seems to not fit completely for me - I need some kind of transition from one to the other...I think I would elongate this work - put more of yourself into it...I do like it, the beginning is quite moving and touching yet I the jump is too severe for me. Thank you for sharing this. I hope this helps as you ask for suggestions.
Love and Light,
Siddartha

[Invisible Ink]

I like the images and especially the first line and the last. "I saw at the edge of route eleven." sounds foreboding, like the end of the physical world... it is the use of the word "edge" that makes it more mysterious. Also, the question at the end, I like how you worded it... which is a statement and answer at the same time as a question. I also like the parallels between nature and humans/man-made. Nice

[Touché Armada]

Sad but real, loved the contrast and comparison, could very much see the vagrant and the bee colliding and stumbling as one in the same here. Perhaps even with imagination the bee due to the lost sting and the vagrant with anaphylaxis unequipped of an epi pen.

[Poeticpiers]

a sad little piece of observation I liked your final lines comparing mankid also divorced from nature.
The differing line lengths impede the free flow when read aloud. POetry essentially must be metered although it need not rhyme.