O' fallen leaf of barren branch
doth charge my heart, my aching heart
with missing you, needing you
On sun dried earth I lay,
grasping at my dreams, so desperate,
find that in this depth
felled by wind of colder days,
my life doth need your touch
so very much it calls to thee,
come to me, cover me
shower me with hope ~
so far you stand
I feel as if I am a tiny creature,
an ant on the pavement
with cracks and crevice deep
Foundling for the distance far,
searching of a path to reap
to thy heart, thy arms
O' breath of love I beg thee home,
to lie with you this eve,
this winters eve
of far off arches and grayish glare
My travels take me long away
Places I am lost to stay
find this man a’ crying
tears of love for thee, tears of despair
Crying, weeping, hoping, begging,
come to me,
come to me my love, my dream
into my open arms ~ waiting
The day might fill the emptiness
with broken branches barren so
dare I say I have the right
to honor love from you,
hold it so within my heart aching
My needs are many,
the truth has shown
for languished features painted hard,
hard against my weathered skin, rough, broken
I scream, my voice still faint of tone,
louder as is nothing less
sorted by the evening breeze
blowing strong against the fence
I desire thee to touch me,
kiss me, hold me, take me
The flames of passion brightly burn
igniting but this love I hold
So cherished is your heart
I feel it pounding, pulsing
within mine own chest
My quest is you and only you,
design me, I am yours,
make me as you would,
carve me, bend me, mould me,
sculpt me to be ~
Good night Soupers
Ok, I got carried away a little. : )
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
Gray smeared sky like a quilt of rags
Winos sip rotgut from brown paper bags
Threadbare cloud crotch splits up the side
Rain pours down, you got nowhere to hide
Cheap umbrella from a street-corner pimp
Turns inside out before going limp
Putrid puddles, soggy dog doo dollops
Are artfully dodged by high-heeled trollops
A rat scurries by with a piece of bread
Like the ant that totes a leaf on its head
You too once held big dreams in your grasp
But they got drowned with a gurgling gasp
You told me before, no you don't stutter
Your genius ideas got washed down the gutter
Now like a scavenger after a flood
You salvage what's left from out of the mud
Ashes to crashes, lust to rust
In the end it only goes bust
Caught in between the future and past
You start out just fine but finish dead last
by Brian McClain - Jan 23, 2016
Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016
Dad had threatened for some time, to reclaim the land behind the shed,
where rubbish over many years, had stockpiled but now instead
of being easy to be shifted, blackberries, docks and thistles grow,
entwining history of ours… and you know we didn’t know.
Mum cracked the whip one Sunday, handing out the different tools
for us to shovel, fork, pick and slash; of course she made the rules.
We weren’t to stop until the rubbish, had been cleared and left to show
a barren space to be landscaped… and you know we didn’t know.
Johnny parked the truck close to where we’d easily load the tray.
First we had to slash blackberries, to open up a pathway.
Old fencing wire and bent droppers, we pulled and tugged. The work was slow.
Plus bits of motors, old oil filters… and still we didn’t know.
The ‘Old Man’ knocked a stump out I can’t remember being a tree,
it disintegrated into pieces; white ant workings I could see.
Plastic pots and old fuel drums, onto the tray we heave and throw.
Just on half the plots been cleaned up now… and still we didn’t know.
A concrete trough and a mattress spring, mesh from an old birdcage.
A kitchen sink broken in two and a pushbike at some stage.
Sardine tins, a barrow bowl, and a seized up mower that won’t mow,
now there’s just one corner left to clean… and still we didn’t know.
A stack of roofing iron near the fence; the last that had to go.
One by one we dragged the rusting sheets… and still we didn’t know.
Dad picked up the final sheet, and then he quickly threw it down again.
His face was white and ‘cripes’ he shook… we ‘bloody-well’ knew then.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
I saw how martyrs longed for love, and so began the play of my flitting heart
A strange girl had I become, with airs of fickle dream,
My heart an embodiment of wonder to all that dared to behold it
Closing my eyes, I would find myself knowing something new would shine my way
Had I known what was coming, the dawn would seem far less appealing...
As all journeys begin, a darkness began to veer its head
The plot of reality melted in dissonant chords...
Dark blue fogs of doubt caked my mind and heart
Though the longing for love never left...
And had it left, no dawn would await me
I saw there were rules setting a foundation for my intensely embarked mark
I knew if I were to feel any twinge of fire,
I must first be rid of the fog...or at the very least find my way through it
How it stung as it hit my virgin skin, not like gentle clouds talking me through it,
Caressing, surrounding and seducing. . .
No, like a poison, the bleak thickness of the doubt choking me
Reducing me to child's tears...I toiled through its torments,
I rested upon rough rocks of rhetorics
Admiring their vitality and honesty...
At one point in time I had convinced myself that I was one of them
A rock- cold, rough... hardened and overlooked...destined to crumble
Though more demands surfaced on this quest for love's Justice
Weakened by the blue fogs blackening,
I cried out in the pit of my heart, surrendering before me
Words...kept so long inside...
I freed them from the strongholds of my darkest nights
And soon there was a deep, hypnotizing reply...
Justice, tall and proud, said from above the sinking pit,
"True, I have seen you before,
A token of adoration you have become,
Crying night after night in melodious black,
With little to take, and everything to give...
My demands are simple, as your longing is profound,
You, yes, you! Take my hand so I may hold you tightly..."
My mouth agape, I stretched out my hand to meet the vines of his fingers
Clutching in sparks, he breathed into me life... and promise of love
"Surrender your heart to the hope of love
When you find you are not alone, as none of you are,
When you praise with your singsong words that passion has altered,
Giving all to a soul you have yet to see,
You shall feel my hand lift you as I do now...
Soon once more, you shall learn- the dawn will always be dawn
And the night will always be your velvet pathway to Beyond."
This, Justice proclaimed in the voice of a thousand cries of birth
The overtones spilling out in rainbows of rapture
It was soon after his visit, I knew I must perform...
Surrender, faith, and action Three keys to the same door...
And they, golden and alight, were in my hands to use
The time came when my heart grew roses, thorns and all
And hearts smashed their way through, though I cherished the burn...
Fogs still lingered in the alleyway of fear
And now I knew not to inch my way near
For the punishment he had whispered like darts in my ear,
"If you, now seeing the truth, dismember your heart,
I will crush your petals into black abyss,
I will reduce you to dust, leaving the thorns,
I am animal in the face of failure,
My tolerance for hate is shorter than an ant beholding a mountain
And if you so much as reject my call,
Hate is exactly what I will allow,
And it will destroy you, oh singing heart..."
This I ask of Justice, on the day of my calling, and yet still today... -
"Tell me, oh spirit,
Phantom of Epiphany,
When the love I so long for locks tightly upon me,
Shall it be as I dreamed,
Or shall I be wholly disappointed,
Left in the agony of reality,
Where roses grow, thorns and all...
Only to wither...and die...
He was so gentle...that he merely smiled and left me...
It was right away, soon after his departure,
That I felt he never would fully leave...
He allowed me to weave my own dreams,
Finding out for myself if reality was truly as magical as they write
And as for an answer, as dull as this may sound... it is...
I, like many tearful martyrs before me,
Continue to long for a love that will fulfill me
Often reality teases me, and I know not if she is demon or angel
Though one day, I will see reality is on my side, ugly or not
The play of my flitting heart still beating its rhythmic drums
The rainbows of overtones lulling me into ecstasy,
As I see words of wisdom thriving in the hands that save
This, though little, I know-
Love is justice of reward beyond our wildest dreams
He sings to us every night, never making promises...
He just smiles and allows us to live it
He allows us to discover, and in turn give...
To enlighten others still trapped in the ruts of fog
Once we feel it, there is no turning back
Please do not let him crush those roses you have made...
Even their foundations were meant to reach the skies
Touching the brightest dawn...and Beyond..
-For Justin Bordner's "Love Justice" Contest
Love you loads, and thank you immensely for inspiring me!
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
Mornings are dreadful time in life unless waking beside gorgeous woman hopefully
a not married one husbans can be such a downer.
And when ya wake to a warm beautiful creature by your side.
And the first thought that comes to your mind is i wonder whats for breakfest.
Then ya probaly cant read the menu to start with and desserve
to have a oversized weight lifter re arrange your ribs.
Im a southern man once means several things non of which means im normal.
And this morning finds my yerning for a trip and widespread mischief.
My amigo had vanished after are trip south of the boarder I remember saying
to myself as i watched him running naked across the dessert being chased
by the flying monkeys he was surley seeing after his consumption of a foreign substance
There goes a fine american.
I would have ran after him but but i didnt want thoose things to turn there attention to me
I herd they had a thing for southern actscents.
And theres nothing worse than a bunch of horney flying monkeys trust me
Ive delt with this problem befor.
and being it was happy hour i knew my slightly insane amigo would understand
in all his naked glory.
Besides I left him some sneakers and a sixpack.
And kept his credit card for safe keeping.
Naked men have no place to keep credit cards and I figured he was in no state to handle
So as i sit behind the wheel ready to to get lost in the madness of fast food and
the ant hill of insanity that is wall mart i turn my thoughts to vegas.
For where would a lost nude slightly insane person run to and feel at home.
I had turn the music up to drown out the sound of whoever was in the trunk.
I figured if i had put sombody in there in a drunken moment.
It had to be for a good reason.
And so with slightly hungover mindset are road begins.
and so with that do the games also.
And i figured hanging around with a cops wife wasnt the smartest idea.
That and im allergic to bullets.
My muse and 16 year old spirtiual advisor had phoned me to say that.
I probaly needed to Invest in the spirt of Jack Daniels today.
And hey she had went to church more than once so who was I to argue.
With a five five spitfire by the name of tinker.
so with A unknown companion in the trunk not helping my hangover i was off
to the races Untill next time kiddies.
Adios and im off to find my amigo.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
It don’t really matter
If Plaster of Paris is not made in France
If Ginger and Fred never learned how to dance
If shoestring potatoes don’t grow in a shoe
It don’t really matter because I love you
If airports have doorways but call them a gate
If calories will never cause us to wait
If moisture each morning is something that’s due
It don’t really matter because I love you
If hamburgers aren’t really made out of ham
If jelly won't work to get out of a jam
If something that’s old becomes something we knew
It don’t really matter because I love you
If plants that are planted are still called a plant
If uncles get sad when they step on an ant
If skies that are happy do always seem blue
It don’t really matter because I love you
If doors that are open are really ajar
If milkshakes aren’t served on a sweet chocolate bar
If vegetable soup is not really a stew
It don’t really matter because I love you
If kings in a downpour get caught in the reign
If birds lifting boulders are not called a crane
If flying the coop came from chickens that flew
It don’t really matter because I love you
Grammatically speaking, my title is wrong
And maybe this poem goes on a bit long
But who cares as long as you know it is true
The one thing that matters, is that I love you
Written for the: “Best Rhyming Poem 3” poetry contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
We are off the chain,
But we let up the rein.
Endurance flows through our veins,
But we still live in pain and disdain.
We have much,
We gain less.
We hold the torch,
But wriggle in darkness.
Our hands are dry,
And we never stop to try.
Instead of wealth and good health,
All we have is to lick our sweat.
We strive like lions,
And die like ants.
We grow to millions,
Yet we feed on remnants.
We sing songs of freedom,
But we march up to our martyrdom.
Hope we find our saviour,
That will relieve us of these rigours.
Who will free us from the grips of our shadows,
And the thoughts of ours that are shallow.
Everyone wants peace,
And tired of seeing people dying in pieces.
We want pain of life at its bearable minimum,
Not catastrophes and pandemonium.
It is always an easy thought,
To be a leader and be seen as paramount.
But this is all we get,
This is what our being loyal amounts.
Our leaders are whips,
Taking tears from the eyes and cries from the lips.
This is an awesome bitter chronicle,
An ant devours lions,
Elephants are helpless.
This is a song of sorrow,
Only the dead cannot sing.
Our hearts pine for justice,
But our minds betray us.
We are captives of our thoughts,
Our fights are ironies.
We only want the pains to go,
We are used to our nightmares.
We enjoy our sour milk,
We manage our dry breads.
They render us shackles,
We concur with wide grin,
Because we know we will still see another day.
The mistake we all made,
We were deceived by small ropes,
Tied around our legs.
We grow up with it,
But still think we can't be free.
Boom is our hope,
Evaporating into the thin air.
Cries of innocents puddle my mind,
I wish the world does not grow old,
I wish we never discover oil,
I wish we never had the freedom from the whites.
We grow in figure,
But wallow in rigours.
We pay it with our own coin.
Nowhere to run to,
The waves blocked us up,
We are in the dark side of the world,
Where law is impotent.
I miss the time we were happy,
I miss the time the country was young.
I miss the pride of our flag,
I miss the moments there were peace,
When people meet with flashing teeth.
I miss the beauty of our culture.
We are totally lost,
We don't know where we are,
Or where is it we are going.
I love my country,
God bless Nigeria.
Copyright © Jamiu Adegboyega | Year Posted 2017
A solitary man
Makes his way up the mountain
One step at a time
The life he knows further and further behind
He wishes to be alone
Away from the busyness
Work that is never done
The need to be right
He reaches the top
Sits down crosses his legs
He looks out at the landscape
His village a small mass of thatched roofs
Smoke rises from a central fire
The lake so small it can fit into a wooden spoon
The horizon surrounds him
He feels the pebbles beneath him
Blades of grass are myopically large
He watches an ant toil
Are their lives not the same?
Summer to fall winter to spring
He witnesses it all
His beard has lengthened his mind enlarged
Secrets have been revealed
Disconnected yet part of all
Growing into the ground
Others come to the mountain top
Seeking his wisdom
They sit with him for a while
They never stay long
Each take so that they may give
The wise man transformed
Arms outstretched reaching to all the horizons
Now covered with leaves
The seasons continue to change
He sends his leaves down to the village
Beckoning them to the mountain
Not wanting to be alone
"Come sit beneath my branches
caress my bark smell my scent
know my soul."
He no longer is able to speak
All that he knows resides in the rings of his seasons
Still he offers wisdom
Put your ear to his trunk
You can still hear his heart beat
His breath whistles through the leaves
His seeds cover your woolen coat
You are a solitary man
making your way down the mountain
One step at a time
Closer and closer to your village
To the ones you love
As you walk through the village you shake your coat
Seeds fall on the fertile ground
The wise man has come home
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013
When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time
to where she began to feel alone,
If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of stained white washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.
You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughters,
I mean dolls.
Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance
is what Republicans have about Democrats.
If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about my intrinsic dignity, royalty perhaps,
sense of anthrocentric entitlement,
immaculate integrity as a permacultured Orthodox Tradition,
utterly necessary to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,
(although perhaps not quite sufficient),
including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their unhealthy wealth and extravagant disregard
for undercommodified values,
like caring and nurturing, loving and therapeutic
mentoring relationships and trees of life, and economic
and eco-logical environ-mental (0)-sum cooperative networks,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
most especially religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.
So, please stop leaving the bathroom of discourse,
regardless of how rhetorically insane and polemic,
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
optimized economic growth.
Then you democratically complain,
by voting for the one you hate the least,
as we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
Much too "solidarity" for Republican taste as True,
much less Just to those who prefer their
economically entrenched competitive silos.
our Democratic family value parents
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were bionically alien unitarian utilitarians,
like honey bees and ant hives,
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four dimensions of truth,
and without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis,
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
than telling your oppositional daughter Dr. Seuss's The Lorax,
interpreting each voice as your own Lorax Logos,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and biological karmic finish line,
alone in your Permaculture Designed polycultural PolyLife Tree Paradise.
When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumption,
that Win-Win cooperation will not have our final say,
is not ecologically, scientifically,
or even permaculturally, metaphysically
sound, rational, integrated,
sustainably designed to benefit future generations,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.
You can't win a P=NP,
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.
With this perhaps un-Christian,
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic mutual-redeemer culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality, and intuition,
than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
wealthy fat-cat anthro-supremacist residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of monocultural monotheism,
poverty and the overpowering commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,
Her capacity to regenerate fertile seeds,
turning away from sin as sterile insanity,
disability and absence,
to now prophecy the sins of monopolistic wealth,
to notice challenging, dissonant tipping points
bicamerally competing economic uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all consciousness
reconnecting our more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of EcoTribe,
multisystemic and polycultural Climax Community,
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Not Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)
So, yes, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic ecotherapy.
Horseshoes don't fit elephants.
Speaking of elephants in too-narrow-minded oppositional spaces,
where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that floor.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
This garden city
Concrete skyscrapers loom;
Traffic jam companions
Feeble old lady
Speeds on wheels;
For small kids and big;
For young and old;
City side walk cafe
Crowded after hours;
Beery happy hours
Dry spell ending;
Sudden torrential rain
Too late this drenching
Side walk cobbler
New lease for old shoes;
Hyper art queue
Bank ATM await
Ready to dispense;
Urgent pocket money
By shopping mall;
Buzz of human traffic
23 Apr 2014
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
Now, I grant you, I am just an ant
I get along with other ants
We make our home among the plants.
We work all day in harmony
A perfect world, I'd have to say!
Some might think I'm here to rant
about my size. They may surmise
that I'm not smart enough to realize
how perfect my small world could be
if humans cared enough for me
We try so hard to keep away
from peril, stress and YOU each day
But now and then we stray across
the sidewalk or a path you take.
You never look or seem to know
you've smashed us with a heel or toe!
You hoe your weeds. Our meager needs
are compromised by seeds you sow!
The homes we've built, and eggs we've laid
are pulverized with mower blades!
A perfect world for you and me
would be to end this genocide!
You stay inside….I'll stay outside
We'll get along. And side by side
we'll both reside quite happily !!
Submitted for "In A Perfect World" contest
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
You may not be as tall as others
You may not have the prettiest face
You may not have the many riches
You may not have gods given grace
By your actions you're the tall one
A smile that lights the dullest day
A kind heart that's always helpful
Share the last of your hard earned pay
By your thoughtfulness you're the fair one
Any small deed you are asked to do
Even the smallest ant, cast the tallest shadows
You live to help others your life through
So riches and stature are not important
Fair of face will wrinkle when old
The way you live your life however scant
Shows your many riches as life unfolds
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
The Ant bit the Elephant
Elephant laid down,O'no,
Exclaimed! the Ant ,I didn't mean........
Copyright © Chacko Itticheria | Year Posted 2009
I have been over there
Where life is nothing
Mummy and daddy blown in the air
Where little ones starve
Where big ones kill
Proclaiming is all Gods will
I with my pen, how do I sit still?
Ants in the rubble
Of tyrants bombs
Or maybe just poverty
From political aplomb
Abu was a drunk
A hero of sorts
For at least standing up to the court
I am a coward for turning my back
Yet here I am, humbled and tired
There are Tigers grander and greater than I
White helmets and saviors
Who walk into the fires
He who saves not only his mind
He saves the child otherwise left behind
Clouds overhead are filled with dread
For some of them always seem to be left for dead
I am an ant
An insignificant sort
I only hope one long day
For a King and his consort
To do all the things
That makes me shiver in fear
Stopping the bloodshed
Bring us all some hearty cheer
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
dead red cardinal
swarmed by sugar ant workers....
cat's supper consumed
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013
Why is sweetness a target for the buggiest frights?
Sweets do attract the sweet but
honey can come with a sting.
You see, the dern ants are in the honey jar
so I had to throw out the thing!
Why is it you can’t have anything sweet without ants?
You know, I’ve never seen a nose on an ant, have you?
The sweet ones don’t run around with signs on there backs.
Seems the buggy ones always win
or foul the honey.
Why is sweetness a target for the buggiest frights?
Children should be able to eat sweets from anyone.
But, they can’t. There’s always a nut job somewhere.
Perhaps, sweet things should evolve a sting?
You get in the honey jar and you say die of diabetes?
Unless, the sweet thing gives you the auntie dote.
Sweets do attract sweet but
at least the honey bee HAS a sting!
Things would stay sweet a lot longer without coocoonuts!
Becarefull NOT to let ants in the honey jar,
or..you’ll have to throw it ALL out!
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2009
On a hill, by a pond, by a tree, in the woods,
underneath a shining sun, tucked away and overlooked.
There stood a line of ants that had come from far and wide,
and with them each, a flower, for the Queen perched at their side.
what a marvel to the eye, to see the colors in a row,
from all creatures, save for one, who held fast close a pebble.
The other ants were curious, and some questioned the motive,
still, he had no taste for Daffodils, Tulips, or Roses.
This pebble he clutched closely was by far the least impressive,
no unique shape did it take, and not two colors caressed it.
It smelled of nothing special and lay heavy in his hands,
and the steps he took were short within the long parade of ants.
But no regrets had he, and no doubt would strike his heart,
for he would proudly shield his prize from rain, and light and dark.
And thus, the day arrived when it had come, at last, his turn,
so there, before the Queen, he laid his offering to her.
The Queen looked down upon the gift, then quietly to him,
she asked what had he brought to her and he returned with this;
"My Queen, it is a symbol, and no ordinary rock,
it is the ground, of which, I worship, upon which you walk.
It represents the love I have for you in its stern face,
though one color it contains, that color will never fade.
It will not dry and crumple up or ever blow away,
it shall stay for generations, and endure and not decay.
-and I know I'm one of many, but I’m grateful just the same,
my dear Mom, my Queen, my highness;
have a Happy Mother’s Day!"
Copyright © David Dowling | Year Posted 2008
The aardvark who was ashamed looked at the floor
The ant that was angry banged on the door
The bee who was bold ventured on a quest
The bear who was bored drew upon his vest
The cat that was calm never entered rage
The cockatiel who was content sung in his cage
The crocodile that was cheerful looked very pleased
The deer who was disgusted brushed against the trees
The dog who was delighted wagged his tail high
The eagle that was envious soared across the sky
The goat that was grateful helped a near farmer
The gorilla that was glad ate his banana
The giraffe who was grumpy didn’t like the day
The horse who was happy galloped all the way
The jaguar that was jealous ran away far
The monkey who was mad jumped upon a car
The parrot that was proud brought aloud his voice
The snake that was sad made a poor choice
The seahorse that was silly caused a lot of strife
The tiger that was thankful loved to enjoy life
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Copyright © Geraldine Taylor | Year Posted 2017
In Dark Dreams
In dark dreams, seeing visions of the dead
behind veils of space and withered grapes on the vine,
we that live, love our pleasures so much instead
paying scant heed to the coming end of our line.
Ah, but Fate dances about with a wicked smile
in shoes that have no merciful souls,
seeing through our indifference and clever guile
often destroying our life's most cherished goals.
Consider the ant- toils hard but dies just the same
while we dance in folly, no soles on our shoes,
to Death we are all targets just the same
ignorant and blind, wading in with no clues.
In dark dreams, blessed if we wake before they slay
In dark dreams, blessed if we but live - yet another day!
Robert J. Lindley, 9-18-2016
Dedicated to the three poets that replied to me recently in soupmail--
telling me to look up! --and WRITE...
I did, with no edits , no worry about syllable count.
Written a few minutes ago...
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
Loitering lonely in a crowd in London
Separate, apart, different from the rest
Because of change of culture and taste
Can’t relate or fit in their world within.
In the whirlpools I gyrate in the middle
Things required to be finished before dates
For the dead and sick sending courtesy calls
Or Greetings for birthdates and weddings.
Sitting depressed or standing in my balcony
On the ground I see the last year’s leaves
The twigs are black and cold is dry & itchy
Think of failures and not of joy or victories.
In between the average sadness and joys
Only thing remains is solitude to enjoy
Of which I don’t see any remedies or cures
Not even bitter pain pills or lenitive lures.
Loneliness wearing away the idle mind
Like a grain of food a hungry ant finds
Hearing the temple-bells I feel to shout
“Hey I am alive, alive in this my lonely rout.
Our birds have flown away for a better lives
We stare at each other no sex drive but survive.
Dr. Ram Mehta
2nd place win
Contest: Faces of Loneliness by Frank H.
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2013
Picnic time Aussie style
Picnic time 12 noon, is dinner time
Was had beside the river
We would grill our lamb chops
On pieces of fencing wire
Quartpot was all a quiver
Tea was cast into the old Quartpot
When the water almost boiled
And boiling tea still I can see
Tastes different I recall
Building the fire
watch the death adders ire
if you pick him up with the wood
foot long death, invisible yes
city dwellers often caught, it’s not good
If the Geegar ant gets in your pants (tiny black ant)
You will know he is there in a bit
And the Bullant one inch
Will bite like a pinch (pain)
His mates will attack,
you are it Don Johnson
Ah yes them little geegars
will bite n smite you well
and bullants come like an army
advancing into hell
If you get ants in your pants
it is no fun, the geegars are biting now
you are grabbing gripping awful ants
until you get the cow
Yes little death adder you don't see till you step on him, then both ends
head and tail strike at your foot. If you saw em first you stomped on the head.
The Brown snake the most common you will see, his head neck can flare
a bit like old Cobra, and he will kill you quicker......cheers mate.....Don
Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
If an ant says that it loves the whole universe with it's tiny heart
chance is there that men will smile if hear it's soundless voice
The almighty omnipresent supreme God has given full freedom to all to love all
there's no barrier to any creature sees only the feeling of soul
Copyright © BL DEVNATH | Year Posted 2013
Just a tiny, crawling creature is she.
You would think her resources would be scant,
but what an example of industry.
I refer to the insect known as the ant.
With no overseer, ruler or guide,
she is quite diligent to do her work.
Perhaps it’s just how she’s wired inside.
Has a disposition to never shirk.
In hot summer time she provides her meat;
at harvest faithfully gathers her food.
Such a strong work ethic you cannot beat,
wonderful eager beaver attitude.
To avoid in life a lazy demise
Go to the ant, sluggard, and be thou wise!
submitted for Sonnet With A Twist, Nature's Lesson To Humanity Contest sponsored by Michael Vacek 2nd place
submitted for Best Sonnet Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017
Ants on a trail, saunder along
constantly move, chemicals guide
Cars upon roads, *SRID guides them
men's highways, signs, signal shows way
No ant pile-ups, no injuries
God guides with skill, no false trails, steps
*Initials for :Spatial Reference System Identifier
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2014
The Game Changer- continued
Coming with the new days rays glow
Here is how these words did flow
There be this red fire ant see
During the battle of these clones
Sam Anti-x Jones
And how she/he came to be
Small drop of dew on blade of grass
Smell of burning smoke in the field
Insects and all alike break right
Fires dew light Sam’s middle eye
Dew says, take me to mountain rose
Sam Antix did hesitate
Though grabs the grass with blade of dew
Due too, drink me know says the dew
And trust no harm will come to you
So, Sam Antix swallows the drop dew
Transformation takes place too
Same the fire ant grew
Heart, Head, Harmonizing
Offering, Optimistic, Opportunity
Self, Shinning, Star
Creator, Creating, Cause
Made, Me, Match
Engulfing, Embodying, Evolving
Deciding, Destiny’s, Dream
From hell to heaven
Dark fires aide Sam Antix
Climb to mountain top
Copyright © Steven Henderson | Year Posted 2017