Bee Sting: Day 2 of National Poetry Month

Day 2: National Poetry Month

See Apricots: a Tanka Encompassing Three Prompts for the prompts I’ll be using (if I use any at all) this month. To the extent possible, I’m determined to combine all three, plus the Blogging A to Z Challenge, each day. That said, I reserve the right not to – despite my conviction that creativity thrives when challenged to overcome constraints.

I recommend reading the daily posts at each of these sites to get a fuller picture of the prompts, though I will summarize them here so you get the general idea:

• NaPoWriMo
• 2026 April PAD Challenge: Guidelines – Writer’s Digest
• April Prompts – Poets Northwest

Be sure to check out some of the Blogging A to Z blogs here, too! And do leave comments – seriously, don’t be shy. Real people who still blog still love to get comments! Egg ’em on! I’m number 81 of 133 on the list, this year.

For day 2, my personal challenge is to write an “express poem” – again, not a form, but my interpretation of the word “express” – to “recount a childhood memory,” and to incorporate or be inspired by the word “ubiquitous.” And to start the title of this blog post, if not the poem itself, with the letter “B.”

Bee Sting

Running barefoot
through pink and white clover
heedless of anything but summer
sweat and sunshine, sweet lure
of lemonade, links on the grill –
sharp, sudden sting – howling –
bottom plop, right in a patch
of honeybees and shamrocks.
Childhood memories last
a thousand lifetimes
longer than a bee’s.

Express

I used line length to hopefully capture the child running, plopping into the grass, then the relative shortness of a bee’s life compared to a human’s memories of childhood.

Of course, there’s also the literal “expression” of joy in running barefoot outside on a sunny day, followed by pain and indignation of getting a bee sting in the child’s howling.

Ubiquitous

I chose not to use the word, itself, but to hint at it in the child’s plopping down right in the midst of bees and clover.

Childhood Memory

When I was little, we went to my grandfather’s company picnic. Everything in this poem is a simple recounting of what happened. What I didn’t mention in the poem is that his secretary was the first to hear my howl and ran over to help me. What I remember most vividly is her incredibly long nails. I had already yanked that poor bee right off its stinger, but the stinger was still stuck in my foot with its tiny venom sac still hanging from it like a teardrop. She pulled the stinger out with her nails, careful not to squeeze the sac so as not to deliver the full payload into my little foot. I have no idea how I only got stung once, by the way, other than sheer dumb luck, after I sat right in that large patch of clover!

Other National Poetry Month Posts

• National Poetry Month, Texas Style!
• Apricots: a Tanka Encompassing Three Prompts
• Bee Sting: Day 2 of National Poetry Month
• Cacophony and CBD: Day 3 in Nonsense Verse and Found Poetry
• Technically, a Writer: Day 3 of National Poetry Month
• Dive: Day 4 of National Poetry Month
• Storm Front: Day 4 of National Poetry Month
• Energized: Day 5 of National Poetry Month
• Grump: Day 5 ½ of National Poetry Month
• Future Frittered Away: Day 6 of National Poetry Month
• Hell, Hell, Hell: Day 7 (More or Less) of National Poetry Month
• Insomnia: Day 8 of National Poetry Month
• Juxtaposition: Day 9 of National Poetry Month
• Knife Edge: Day 10 of National Poetry Month
• Lost a Day: Day 11 of National Poetry Month
• Many Definitions: Day 12 of National Poetry Month
• New Form – Quadrille Quaiku: Day 13 of National Poetry Month
• Ode to Imagination: Day 14 of National Poetry Month
• Pixellated People: Day 15 of National Poetry Month

Your Turn!

Please, leave a comment, a poem, a prompt – I’d love to hear from you.