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Best Poems Written by The Ant

Below are the all-time best The Ant poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Rougarou

The Rougarou

Somebody told me
To put thirteen shiny Pennies 
On my window sill.
To ward away
The Rougarou
They say he can’t count past twelve
Being dim
So he just keeps counting 
The Rougarou does,
Over and over 
Until the sun hits his back
Scaring him back to the shadows
Safe.
I put out the pennies
For the Rougarou
Just as I was told
But the sun never shines
In my darkened depression 
So the Rougarou
Never left.

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The Unknown

I visited the great unknown,
But now I can’t remember
The look of it.
What a tragedy it is
To jump unknowing.
How greatly I admire the unafraid.

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Lake

Lake

One quiet morning
On a sunburnt lake
With a quiet mourning
The earth did shake
The water bubbled
A gust of wind blew
But I didn’t notice
I was looking at you
The mountains rumbled
And the sky was bright
I want to hold you
Till day is night
Everything wonderful
Everything wrong
Darling let's drown
Them all out with a song
Your skin is the moon
And your eyes the lake 
They’ll never accept us
Because we won't be fake
Stay with me Stay with me
In the sweet morning dew
And the bullfrogs singing
I love you
In this garden of eden
Let's spend the night
They say that we’re wrong
But the birds say we’re right
Let's go in the water
And lie in the sun
As long as we’re happy
We’ve already won






 Writing challenge L-words poetry competition, 3/16/2023 Constance La France

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The Dancers

Dancers fly through the air
Like smoke and fire
All limbs and rain on a foggy day,
Flightless birds that soar for just moments
Each pointed foot and extended arm it’s own brush
To paint a masterpiece.

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Cat

Cat

Once I had a cat who loved to wear shirts,
More than he loved anything else
He was an odd cat
Barely a cat at all
He loved shirts,
And baths,
He loved all food,
Except peanut butter.
He could jump straight in the air
As high as my head,
So we named him Roo,
Short for Kangaroo
And after the character in Winnie The Pooh
But he was more of a heffalump or woozle
A wild creature
Who ran around the house
Nipping at heels
And terrorizing the other residents
He was more of a legend than a cat
Disappearing for days on end
Before returning fat and happy
And smelling of smoke
I loved my wild heffalump of a cat
The one who loved baths,
And shirts,
Who lived for creature comforts,
But hated peanut butter.
Who could jump straight in the air, 
And make a mad dash for someone's ankle.
I love my wild, weird, little woozle
Who vanished into the night
Always an enigma 
A legend
A mystery
A heffalump.

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Staircase

Beneath the staircase,
In the dark,
Is a monster.
The owners of the house 
Laugh,
When asked about the noises 
Coming from the staircase.
The rattles, the moans,
They say:
Oh that’s just our little monster,
With a wink.

It is dark beneath the staircase.
Eyes blink,
Screams ring out,
Walls, shake,
The owners of the house
Keep the staircase boarded up tight
So the monster can never get out.
They watch it,
Day and night.
Til they feel they are the ones in the dark
They shudder, and shake the feeling away
They are doing what they must.

There are spiders in the dark,
Under the staircase
They creep and crawl.
A mouse nibbles on a bone.
Dirt falls from the beams,
As the walls rattle
As she pounds to get out.
The little girl,
She huddles in a corner,
Locked up tight,
By her parents,
The monsters above the staircase.



Writing Challenge S words
Constance La France
4/7/23

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Tear

There is a tear in an old wedding dress
Hidden away in a box in the attack,
Covered in cobwebs,
And collecting dust.
The dress is carefully lifted from it tissue paper tomb
To be admired by the grandchildren
Who trace it’s silken edges with their fingers
They hold it up to their chest 
And imagine what it would be like
To wear it.
The grandmother eyes the tear with distaste
She gently brushes off the cobwebs
And vows to repair the hole.
Somehow she will never get around to it.
The grandchildren are easily distracted,
They are more interested in the moose antlers
Hung on the wall,
And the large half covered painting of a naked woman.
Soon they run back down stairs,
The novelty of the attic beginning to wear off.
The grandmother watches them leave,
A weary smile on her face
She kneels in the dust of the attic,
As she pulls the faded dress to her chest.
Tears fall on the dress in the attic.



4/13/2023
Writing Challenge "T" words
Constance La France

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Listen

Listen

He spoke to me one day,
The ant!
He was nothing special really,
Small and insignificant,
An ant,
Nothing more nothing less.
How lucky!
How extraordinary!
How noble!
How grand!
To walk the earth leaving nothing,
No trace, no scar.
He was innocent,
When he spoke,
“You humans,”
“I don’t understand!”
“You live in a constant scramble to keep living.”
“You want to survive death!”
“You struggle to be the most known,”
“As if it were a prize!”
“You idiots!”
He was quite angry,
“You will all die!”

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I Wish Somebody Would'Ve Told Me

I wish somebody would’ve told me

I wish somebody would’ve told me
That the world never ends
Even when you want it to.
When a black hole swallows you up
On the spot 
When an earthquake leaves you cracked and bleeding
When a wave covers you and you drown
In a sea of deep dark pain.
The world goes on,
It keeps moving, keeps spinning,
Leaving you behind.
I wish somebody would’ve told me 
That screaming is it’s own natural disaster
Yelling into the void of moving bodies,
Is taking a magnifying glass to an ant hill
And burning it down
Pain spreads the farther your voice carries
As you watch your pain burn down the world,
Then you open your eyes and no one has heard you
The scream never left your bloody lips
I wish somebody would’ve told me 
That disasters don’t count
When they happen in your brain.

3/10/23 Contest: Pick-a-title, Edward Ibeh

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The Cabin

The Cabin

There is a cabin 
That sits on the shore 
Of an emerald lake,
Alive, with sun and swallows
Birds hum along with the children at play
Knee deep in warm water and soft sand
Catching lightning bugs at night
This sacred cabin is never dark
Because the moon reflects across the lake
And laughter lights up the night
In the morning the sky is the brightest blue
The trees cast laughing shadows 
That tickles children’s feet.
A dragonfly floats lazily by
And the deer bound through the grass
All is peace by this cabin on the lake
And everything is alive.


There is a cabin 
That sits on the shore
Of a black lake
The sun hides from view
And all is quiet and still
The water threatens to spill over the banks,
But has no one to drown.
The night is filled with an erie silent blackness
The children never play,
For there are no lightning bugs left to catch
Or children to catch them
In the morning, the sun threatens not to rise
Against the ashen sky
The only life is the steady whine of the cicada
And the deer avoid the decaying cabin at all costs
Something is very wrong here.
What has happened to this cabin on the lake
That was once so alive?
As it turns out, the most dangerous thing
Is the living