Bees and Love

Dr. Weeks’ Comment: I met Dr. Ben Yisrael as I meet all great poetic passionate souls – not by coincidence.
And then, being in resonance, but without knowing that I am a beekeeper and the founder, over 30 years ago, of the American Apitherapy Society, he shared this splendid poem with me.


Bee Well (and read aloud)


A Jar of Honey

by Dr. Ben Yisrael

read more here…..

All honey bees are members

of the mile high club.

Fly faster

than most people

run, wings beating

230 beats per second.

Like teenage romance

they only live

for 6 weeks

in summer.

In a world

where friends and lovers

come with expiration dates,

they produce a food

that never spoils.

It’s no wonder

we call our lovers

honey, crave

what will not ruin

under the heat

and pressure of time.

We falter

fearing we have stung

or been stung

far too many times

to call any arms home.

Honey bees are not haunted

by the number of their rendezvous.

They aren’t afraid

to get their knees dirty

with the pollen of past lovers.

Consuming up to 150 flowers

to fill their stomach.

My stomach keeps

wrestling against what ifs

and maybe’s that whisper

a woman

that gorgeous

will crush you.

They ask, Why

chase the wind or wildflowers

when there are perfectly planted gardens

for your match?

I won’t kiss you formal or

love you waltz,

black tie and tuxedo.

There are girls and boys

who will buy you flowers

when told to,

who give caskets as gifts…

I will not be your valentine,

or bring you a bouquet

of dying promises

or print a card signed forever.

I have not come for ceremony.

Being with someone

to avoid loneliness

is casting a half-­spell

on a half­moon

and telling her

I’m half crazy about you.

Lovers disappear quickly

as honeybees. We aren’t

brave enough

to hurt.

Scare yourself

if you want to

make something special.

When courting

magnum opus

why settle?

And don’t we all want lovers

who go beyond the mark?

who suck the nectar

from our stomachs.

who love


all the way

to our belly buttons.

Not just our lips.

Give me your wings.

I will offer my abdomen.

Let us explode beautifully


on the wall! Pollen

on the kitchen counter.

Pollen on the stairway!

Pollen on the bed!

And nectar



I will




sticky, sticky,

sticky golden



I am guilty

of wanting

only you

do not exonerate me

with friendship.

Swarm me with kisses.

Fire into me

with your love

Let it sting



and atom.

It only takes one ounce

of honey

to give a bee the energy to fly

around the world.

Imagine the damage that can be done

with an entire jar.

I swear to love you

to the final drop.

If just once, cradle me

between the legs

that house the flower.

I need your knees

to carry me home.

Ben Y

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