A Bee on My Coffee
This goes out to the bee that landed on my coffee cup during a football game.
Coffee coffee coffee
Coffee is grand,
Coffee is swell
I love my coffee very well.
Coffee gives me life
Coffee is reason to get up out of bed
I like my coffee super sweet.
Then on my cup, my lid where my lips go,
A bee had landed and perched himself.
Get the f*ck off me you prick.
Disrespectful.
Like, who gave you permission to just spoil my beverage.
I bought this, with my own money, $1.75 to be exact.
I worked for this money with an emphasis on the "I" meaning not you.
Bees are assholes. Except honey bees.
Story time, I was indeed at a football game and a bee had landed on my coffee cup that I had just bought. The poem came instantly to me in a few short minutes cause the first thing I did was tell it to get the f*ck off my coffee and called it a prick. Thus the poem sprouted (get it? cause bees like flowers) and I wrote it on my phone with a few more phrases and BOOM. Bee poem.
About the Creator
Zoe Mullen
I like to write poetry that is both sad and funny. I'm also a great comedian.
Keep reading
More stories from Zoe Mullen and writers in Poets and other communities.
Artistic Mind
Hey, ever had a dream that just doesn’t seem to go away. like gum that got caught in your hair and you have to cut it out but a few days later you realize it’s still there. then you laugh at your silly-ness and shake your head. You see we’re all a bit silly in our own funny ways, like a fish out of water as it flops around as if trying to walk, it’s silly. But anyways, we all have dreams that just don’t go away. I remember at the age of 6 and 7 I wanted to be a Dunkin Donuts employee just because my dad loved the place so much, i thought that making coffee and grabbing donuts was such a successful idea. Truth be told that’s just silly. I realize now I have many dreams that jump back and forth at each other like they’re wrestling in my head to fight for the upper hand with their own dream becoming reality. Now that’s up to me as I put my pencil or paintbrush to a rendered tree surface letting my mind flow through my nerve endings from my brain to my hand where colors and images will appear right before my pupils. Here and soon my minds in front of me and that idea has won the battle that goes on inside my mind as if it were training for days on end like an olympic swimmer who swims for hours to win that gold medal. But then, soon the miracles of an electronic structure that holds mirrors and lights inside it to project an image in the form of thousands of particles called pixels that portray pictionary proportions of color and contrast that contradict the real image that is seen. Now mind you, soon that image is photoshopped to perfection for the appealing of others because we don’t like to see the real thing anymore. But who am I to say that taking an image and merging it into something new with just a few swipes of a pen I’d say that’s pretty fantastic.
By Zoe Mullen6 years ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.