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    Messages from the Bees
    Messages from the Bees
    Messages from the Bees
    Ebook54 pages17 minutes

    Messages from the Bees

    By Robin Winckel-Mellish

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    About this ebook

    In this second collection Messages from the Bees Robin Winckel-Mellish shows the same qualities as A Lioness at my Heels, but this time runs deeper, darker and stronger. She delves not only into the riotous colours of southern Africa: birds, bees and caracals, but also climate change, while different kinds of love are pinpointed. Her poems of loss and grief are candid and even sensuous, showing the beauty of simplicity in bleakness. Both delicate and reflective these poems honour the wild while retaining a deeply-felt sense of connection with all that is relevant to our lives.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherModjaji Books
    Release dateDec 29, 2017
    ISBN9781928215547
    Messages from the Bees
    Author

    Robin Winckel-Mellish

    Robin Winckel-Mellish lives in the Netherlands and runs a poetry critique group in Amsterdam. Her work has been published in many international literary journals. Her first collection, A Lioness at my Heels, explores living in Europe and being South African.

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      Book preview

      Messages from the Bees - Robin Winckel-Mellish

      Moon

      One

      Homing Pigeons

      A whirring, then gone in a flash.

      In the silver-flecked sky,

      tails glint in the sun.

      Wheeling in unison,

      pigeons flash a fleeting cloud

      across a blue-scraped horizon.

      What makes them hurry home?

      Does the speed of their flying

      bring news to us,

      their compass-like alignments

      ensuring a mad sky-scramble

      nothing can stop?

      Our own anagrams of flight

      are a place where the loved one lives,

      as magnets in the top of a pigeon’s beak,

      and in the groin, neat and small,

      that ancient impulse, to dart

      and peak and bring us home.

      Caracal

      I had walked there for years, head down

      and checking for cat-paw tracks,

      now at last alive as I stand

      and watch you move,

      cat body hidden by bush,

      head facing the dunes,

      unaware, red tail brushing the sand,

      forward, backward, forward, backward.

      It gives you away, late afternoon light

      catching rust on an open patch,

      the minutes passing until suddenly

      you turn tufted ears and, surprised,

      draw back tense lips, your wild eyes

      for one second penetrating mine

      before you leap and turn

      and vanish in a flash.

      We have weekend guests at the house,

      and a past lover, not seen in decades.

      We sidestep with care, talk small

      and brush sand over all our tracks.

      Messages from the Bees

      Every sound has a story.

      Regular breath, a slow heartbeat,

      the bubbling of morning porridge,

      leaves that in a trembling breeze

      drift and rustle on frozen ground,

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