A Busy Buzzy Bee

Who came up with Poet this profession    
passed it down for generations    
therefore I ignite the kerosene lamp    
curl up my torso at the table    
with sheets of parchment    
and a quill from the basement    
   
When words trickle into poetry    
I become a declared poetess    
wearing a laurel crown    
which not quite fit to my brows    
searching for Emily Dickinson’s white robe    
which not proper for me to cope    
   
Like a bee collecting nectar    
I look for inspiration    
from the sound of silence    
from the void of space    
from the great soul’s voice    
If not, I make up my own stories    
     
Like a bee making honey    
commenting on poems      
replying to comments    
thinking who I should follow    
being a supportive follower    
seems more critical than being a scribbler    
   
On a bridle road    
at the heavenly tavern    
we are under the same light    
some come in the day    
others come at night    
someone drives a fancy vehicle    
I instead ride a humble camel    
with a worn bell around its neck    
when I come, I make lovely rattles    
     
Right now under the kerosene lamp    
I am shedding poetic tears    
disguising as a poetess    
dinking some inspiring tea    
for I don’t really fit  
   
I am just a busy buzzy bee

*Inspired by Samael's Busy Busy World