Buzz

Poem: Buzz

I think of you

And you think of think of me.

as I watch the whizz and hear the buzz of a busy bumble bee

Some call it synchronicity

What you bring to me is your energy

Your gentle voice and fun words when you’re far or near

Reducing my worry

Eliminating fear

How do you do what you do?

A natural high when I spend more and more of my time with you

I get a buzz

 

Review: Buzz 

 The poet is as busy as a bumble bee with all the thinking that he or she is doing. Funny that. From what I have seen, poets indeed do lots of thinking and feeling with the need to communicate and to connect with others. Poets are busy like bumble bees with the gathering of material, the word nectar. The poet must be exhausted as there is so much going on. Lots to think about and so much to be feeling. One, or two words I’d like to offer to you poet and those words are, “switch off” Not from life, of course not no! But from what is attempting to ‘influence’, shape and corrupt you!  Yes, corrupt! That snazzy flat screen on the wall, the thing that used to be a box in the corner of the living room pumping out all of its ‘informative’ messages and so called ‘entertainment’. The daily news for example but who or what decides what we, as the public, should be watching and at what time of the day? Plus, there’s also the nefarious advertising sidekick monsters with the penetrating memorable slogans and jolly little jingles attempting to impose a way of thinking and to create culture. Hmm. Hasn’t it always been thus though? Hmm? When looking back at our own lives, haven’t we all been shaped by this? There we were back in the “good old days” with “just the one cornetto in one hand, shaking and vacking with the other hand as the ‘freshness had to be brought ‘back’ from somewhere? Not forgetting of course, doing what it “says on the tin” with hands that do dishes, where those same hands can be “as soft as your face” because of the washing up liquid! Come off it! And once that’s all done, a finger of fudge awaits you because it’s just enough isn’t it? Arrrrrrrgh! There are loads more manipulating messages to add to the list  but I don’t wish to upset you poet. I’m sure you can think of a few. Awful is what that was. Octopus behaviour taking place with a multitude of juggling hands, and taking orders from a solipsistic tin! And for ‘entertainment value’ do it all by dancing on an ice rink! Oh, what an adoring and busy image of the cultural goings on that were and are no longer (alas, some still are though). Yes, it’s enough to make one go yuck! It’s outrageous! How dare ‘it’ attempt to create and curate my mood! I apologise dear poet if I’m sounding like I’m preaching to the converted here, but I feel the need to say to folk, to not take on any more than what life is already throwing at you. It’s tough enough as it is! Edit things that come your way. The weather reports for example, always starts with Scotland! Then eventually it moves down to England!  (like a lot of people from Scotland) I can give you a short factual report, no probs “Scotland is cold, put on a coat. Have a pair of ‘sensible shoes/boots if visiting. That’s it, oh and it’s likely to get some snow on the hills every now and again. Weather reported, job done.

Anyway, back to the poem. The poet is convinced that this ‘other person’ thinks of them whilst at the same time the poet thinks of them too. How can they be certain of this? It’s possible sure, potentially probable but is it a fact?

Does it need to be a fact? It’s not journalism but art.  Art is what connects, communicates deeply and feeds the soul. Art acknowledges your existence and participation in the world. I’m in. I’m smiling warmly with how the poet is connected to this person.

It’s a relatable poem that I’m sure many can connect with. I myself have been fortunate enough to have known and currently do know people in my life that have a demeanour of fun and excitement. It certainly is contagious. This person sounds almost magical. Reducing worries and fears? Wow. Could well be a close relative or a dear friend. It could even refer to someone who has passed away and the poet potentially spends time thinking of this person with the trigger of conversations, memories or a photograph, perhaps, being the catalyst for gaining comfort and strength? The emotion of ‘love’ is what I am getting from this poem. “Love, it has the answer, it holds the key. It’s too powerful for it not to be” Ooh look at me getting all poetic with my words. Poetry sure is catching and I like it.

I’ve enjoyed reading the poem with the delicate rhyming throughout.

I’ve got a gentle heart-warming and reassuring buzz. I hope whoever reads it does too.