a sting operation

As I sit quietly here,
a honeybee, not a butterfly, glided silently around me.,
as I sat next to her on the porch
with the golden sun light bathing her open wings I felt light as well.

She was there, unafraid to share
what seemed to me a sweet little secret.

She was cool and mysterious, but straight forward told me;
“ I’ve been waiting for you, poetic man ”- I want to sting you!

She just wanted to warn me,
to make sure I didn’t get up and run like crazy
or rub my shoulder and kill her.

You can make friends over a sting operation,
that’s for goddamn sure!

Fidel Guerra
Nov, 30, 2019.​

 

I knew they could buzz... but conspiring? funny.

 

Hola Gustavo,
well, It was tiny and I believe an elderly bee. She struck me as competent, sensitive and happy at first, but something happened. Of course, I heard the buzz, but I didn’t know there was more to her profession, meaning, her conspiring attitude towards me. I am not quick to pull the race card often, but in this case she didn’t sting my gringo friend, just me.

So, I blame fucking Trump for the honeybee’s behavior, también porque nuestro planeta piensa moverse hacia otro barrio de nuestra galaxia porque este cabron ya la canso. Well, it is a long story, but the other day, while in the restroom, a mosquito crazy was looking himself in the mirror, just as I did, fixing its looks and singing something...so, now you know what I think....what a fuck is going on?

Gustavo,
gracias por la visita y que te haya gustado el cuento raro. Hasta Rio Bravo te llegan mis saludos,

fidel Guerra.

 

I believe we need another reaction icons...Like the tipsy question mark(?)
quite a hop... are you from Rio bravo?

 

When I was a little child, I used to lie on the garden grass and
watch dragonflies moving like alive paintings over the blue summer sky.
I know that inspiration can hide even in all those small creatures of God.
I am glad to read you in this side of the house, my dear friend.
Have a wonderful week.
Hugs.

 

Hola Gustavo, good day to you.

Soy de Reynosa, the city that changed, from normal to crazy. I grew up right across from the parque Lopez Mateos y el cementerio municipal. I saw lots of baseball and soccer games there, also, many día de los muertos surrounded by colorful days of flowers, warm music, mucho tequila, café y pan en el panteón.

I agree with you, among other things, that there should be reaction icons, especialmente para mi.

Saludos,
Fidel Guerra.

 

Dear Cecy,
as we approach a new decade, I want to honor our friendship, all the ups and downs we experienced throughout this soon to become “last year”. I also want to recognize the new upcoming challenges… las imaginaciones que nos hacen sentir o revivir las cosas tal y como son o como fueron.

Este poema, the Sting operation is just an escape but also the result of something I drank, sometimes too much. Bueno, 6 o 8 cervezas para algunos no son tanto, pero para mí sí. Of course, dragonflies are lovely, something from another world or land of serenity. In other words, a magical mystery to all of us…even for the military complex.

Hugs to you my dear amiga, please have a wonderful Monday and week.

Fidel Guerra.

 

I celebrate, dear poet and friend Fidel, that you present this poem to us: a new account of your prodigious imagination. I have interpreted it as a modern fable, a cautionary tale because of its corresponding moral. And I really agree with its lesson giving at the end of it.

With my congratulations, another big and fraternal hug,

Ulpiano

 

Cheers!! my new friend and neighbor... Although I was born in Reynosa I never really lived there,
but I visited many times I went to school (Jose de Escandon) ... pero ya llovió... Tambien fui al parque a los broncos...
Y a los toros cuando estaba la "santa fe" y alos conciertos del rodeo... y pos claro a las dos.. a la roja y a rosa... jeje.

saludos poeta... now Im the gringo of your stinging... never been sting tho.

 

Ulpiano,
I am honored to answer your comments. I don’t know if my writings are a poetic revolution yet, but I know I’m a mapless poet…that’s why sometimes I find myself in the worst of places of literature or unfamiliar poems like this one. The title of my poem remains me of a term the police uses.

Anyhow, dear friend, thanks a lot for your kind thoughts about my writings. Your comments are always like a celebration, or a festive time to reflect on the blessings we all share. I wish you love, health and hope for a better tomorrow for all of us, meaning, in Latino America.

Fidel Guerra.

 

Cheers Gustavo.!
Bueno, I heard the smartest ones went and still go to José de Escandon. Two of my brothers went there, not me, I humbly attended the Ermilo Abreu Gómez, por allá por los rumbos del puente elevado y el internacional.

Yeah, los sultanes de Monterrey, los saraperos de Saltillo o los diablos rojos del Mexico contra los broncos de Reynosa, que juegos no?

The pink zone wasn’t as serious as the red one. In the pink, sweet stuff; in the red, different snacks. Because of my young age I wasn’t sure about the type of snacks, only that these were the forbidden ones. But one of my neighbors, a breathtaking beauty used to work there. Oh man, a beautiful sun that you could feel while dancing with her en el barrio, feelings that, in my youth, stayed with me for a long time. So, it was a good thing that she was my neighbor, but I wasn’t allowed to visit her, I tried, but she followed the family rules, so, dancing was the closest I got to those red zones.

Well, this is getting to long..so good night paisano doble.

Fidel Guerra.

 

Very good, kisses and hugs