Rage - Shakespeare's Monkeys

rage

Draft

the poet writes of daisies
and bees

i see her in her castle
dreaming

a stinger embedded in
my arm

but she smiles and then
tastes honey

in two days the petals
will wilt

the golden center fade
to brown

the bee will die far away
from home

the welt on my arm will heal,
but what does honey taste like?

White_Feather -

I wonder where the rage is . . .

You're tough on the poor little arthopods that cross your way.

Alcuin of York -

Indeed, what does this have to do with rage? Are we supposed to assume the bee stung from rage? If so, how does this fit with “dreaming”, “smiles”, or “daisys”. The theme of rage neither contrasts nor fits with the rest. And the same disconnect comes with the last line. The underlying emotional reaction is not conveyed. If you have hinted at it, I didn’t get it. A lot of poems have a last line or two that veers from the rest enough to leave us thinking, ruminating; but the last line seems disconnected. Sorry, but this one doesn’t work for me.
Alcuin

Anstey -
No. it's more of a metaphor for how i see rage. As a longing to taste something good. As a dealing with a pain that no one else knows exists. As something that lasts in memory. The image as a whole is sort of an obtuse look at how I imagine and feel rage.
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stephan