Hive Mind – a poem


A simple knock, unintentional thing,

Synergistic explosion, the rumble

Begins, tiny, murmur-like Babel

Tumble of voices asking, gently

Wondering at rising winged whispers

Emanating, from where as yet unknown.


Just a tiny accident, equation

Of proportion inverse to the producer,

The blind hive has awoken, a rhythm

Finally recognised by stunned standers,

Curious and afraid to finally find

What waits within the beehive mind.


Near, close to, blind but not quite,

Soon the purpose will become clearer than

Polished crystals showing such colour

In purposeful action, far from mindless,

Secret, hidden movements about to be borne

On the back of a knock; so simple a little thing.


Panic, when the first furry honeymaker emerges,

So alive in flight, high pitched whine, not obsessed, only true

To itself in focus, no furrowed brow, the comb burrows

Abandoned to seek and destroy that slight disturbance

And its cause, the source, the unknown finally seen,

In striped buzzing.


Frightened, the standing picnickers scatter

From the blurring buzzing flight focus

Of that swarming single minded, purpose bent…




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