Poetry by Thomas

THE BEE

I fly in patterns of eight and wiggle my rump Forget-me-not 300m southwards Not far, but far for me The first time I scouted alone Or yes the first time I scouted in general We did the most part alone, but that’s how it is Or, we do live side by side a few hundred and the neighbour a few hundred But we don’t know eachother so well that we fly together I don’t know how I should even ask Hello, do you want to go on a scouting trip? No, why should I do that, half as effective. Love is for queens of course So I don’t know what the point would be, really.

A MORNING

I tread the day good morning on yesterdays ground coffee Which ended up everywhere except the funnel It wakes my mind which wakes me up a bit but what should we be angry at really

I ground the coffee by hand and prepare for the same treatment to the world One of the drawers have stuck and the coffee is getting cold while fixing it Nice to not be alone about being sour I think while I slurp it in and noticing that I am not alone about being bitter either

Slices of bread crumbling up with taco sauce and we are out the door and halfway to school we meet someone with a big smile and suddenly she was not alone in having a good days’ start after all

THE FLOWER

Spring Our gathering A meeting in body and spirit Differences between love and sex Similarities

Summer Like a pea flower The feeling of taking from the earth and putting something back The feeling of knowing it will end

Autumn Reap me Take what is clear and let the rest hang

Finish the process spread your seeds Fly away from me and prepare To the next, and the next Not me.

Beautiful And complete Is still beautiful.

LONESOME MEMORIES

night and day always present the sun bakes New Zealand and I gaze at the moon instead

they lie heavy in my bag chains ‘round my ankle memories and thoughts my deepest recollections unrewarding tiresome memories and regrets blown out of proportion

take them from me leave me be lonesome under the moon

in peace

LUCKY TROLL

In the drawer under the bed I await in the clutter only there when I receive attention

comb me cut off all my hair it will not grow out again but that is okay just buy a new one for 20 kroner

Pauline Hovland Illustrator