“Ode To a Honey Bee” by Jonathan B.


Warm summer nights,

Flowers growing.

Your delicate plastics take flight,

Nature is growing.


Intricate hives,

The queen helps workers thrive —

Young ones dive,

You hear a buzzing pass by.


Lilac and scarlet fields

Attract your eye,

Pollinate and ensure

These aesthetics do not die.




“Sonnet Blue” by Jonathan B.


Sky is full, often past the colorfilled clouds

And is found in the building block of life

Gushing infinite droplets, Roaring sound

Leap off and into the blue cushion, Splice

Reverse head upwards towards emptiness

Away from any social conviction

Traverse the void, Helpful covariance

Place where another can’t hear your diction

Irrelevance, Required sense is sight

Blue, You witness the profound round aura

Objects scrape the horizon, Earth bends light

Life prospers, Land is covered in flora

From naught, To fruition of the blue touch

Hidden underneath it, So much, Too much



“The Old Man” by Jonathan B.

A man is a man when?

When he ages out of

the pubescent age?

Or when the fluorescent bulb is lit within the brain?

Or to appreciate the leaves that breathe,

but do not speak?

A man is a man when a plan is set,

But only when the plan is a goal that is met,

A goal that must be complete

And not obsolete to the man’s existence.

A man must not set himself up to lose

Even if the life he lives,

Is like a lit fuse.