Long Anthills Poems
Long Anthills Poems. Below are the most popular long Anthills by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anthills poems by poem length and keyword.
NO WINTER THIS YEAR! NO NONE AT ALL!
no winter this year, no! none at all!
the ducks dilly dally, honeybees in the fall!
my dry cleaners said "no need for your coat!
I'll get to it when, I dock my sailboat!"
anthills getting bigger, their soldiers don't hurry!
I checked the forecast, no chance of a flurry!
the blueberry tea, I've been served alfresco,
stays quite piping hot! thank you Ernesto!
my finest snow angel, about to appear,
must take a raincheck! with Santa's Reindeer!
the heavens above, must surely have reasons,
postponing ice fishing, and blurring the seasons!
I'll wait two more weeks, before I declare!
"remove thin-ice signs! steep drop-off beware!"
Across the realms of existence now known
dwell some dimensions of which we're not part.
Though sharing our space, diverse life is shown-
some worlds within worlds, alone from the start-
know not of us- yet are able and smart.
Earth's anthills survive in worlds quite diverse;
no knowledge that giants exist in their midst.
In their unique space, they govern and nurse.
Too, bees in their hives cannot be dismissed;
they thrive in their world, and ours is not missed.
And our vast earthly oceans overwhelm
with life that inhabits dark, liquid space-
without knowing that above there's a realm,
most never will see, that's named human race-
we masters of earth- that rule and embrace.
Across the realms of existence NOT known
dwell huge dimensions of which we're not part.
Though sharing our space- diverse realms are shown;
some worlds among worlds- ahead from the start?
We know not of them- more able and smart?
Little Johnny stretches out his arms
Running across a field of flowers
Shooting down butterflies
Bombing anthills
Big Johnny scans the heavens
In his super sonic speed jet
Shooting down enemy planes
Bombing military targets
Little Johnny kneels by his bed
Saying his prayers
He looks at his model jet
Little Johnny asleep in bed
Big Johnny looks Up on heaven
Praying to live one more day
Remembers the games of yesterday
With youthful imagination war was just play
Little Johnny-Big Johnny
Child's games-Man's war
Youthful imagination-Elder's strategy
Toys of War-Toys of War
No matter what happens to you,
You have to be your own sunshine
machine in all that you do!
Angels will cross your path as if
from nowhere.
What a waste of time moaning
about what is gone, somewhere?
A lover left? There are billions left
on the planet.
Way better than the one who left,
who was boring and stagnant.
So much in life to cheer, yes mam,
even now!!
What you want~ create it, see its being
born before it is~ holy cow!
Go comment more, call your friends on
a real phone.
Play music, dance, do not moan!
Turn fear on its fat rear, waltz in the sun
and prance.
Dream of a glorious future and of course,
romance!
Play your sunshine machine loud and clear.
You know you are a winner.
Climb mountains, not anthills, my dear!
Go for it~ with hugs,
Panagiota
September 17, 2020
7:30am PST
confusion overtakes you
as the fog swallows the leaves above
leaving wind soundless
when you boil the sea
rain falls
and yet you ask why
as a child
shocked by thunder
hiding like a rat
gnashing your teeth
on wood and wheat
seeking a retreat
death comes for your kin
like anthills in a concrete mold
boasting of great strength
yet in this moment eternal
the fear and confusion ever so swallows
and remains is the sound of fear
in statues of your kin
mouth agape
as if to ask "why?"
when patience is rewarded with pain
and violence is rewarded with silence
what do you have left?
open your mouth
and ask me again.
try not to swallow your tongue.
(A lone voice whispers)
As a person, you must know
Deep down
You're part of one of the most spiritually
Illuminating
Literary movements there has ever been
A gift sent to you for self-expression from The Great In-Between
A means to pull down old towers with new or old siege hooks
Open closed doors
By maybe writing a blog or book
To walk through anthills and moors
Of poetic stanzas
To find who you really are
As you pause and really look
For above all things
Magic in poetry is real
A form of rebellion from the mundane
A resolution
A Bonanza
To push back boundaries in a form of grassroots resistance
To power and social control
To be able to purge the destructive nature of humanity and the need to share its beauty
To those watching on patrol
As they go
For you are so gifted
So never be afraid to share your Illumination of the soul
For someone somewhere
Always needs to be lifted
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone
having served as desert for gophers,
the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil…
and the hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue
the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird bathes fill with rain
From the within the green pupa, soon
you will stir ..the membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain
in a spring breeze adorned in polka dots
and wings like the crinolines of spindle legged
virgin daughters at first communion...
you will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer
butterflies born.
Forms: Free Verse & haiku
I await your coming for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high. The lilac branches are still bare and shivering in the laggard lion’s breath of March. They await your kiss, the Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone having served as dessert for gophers, the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil. The hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue, the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird baths fill with rain
From within a green pupa, soon, you will stir. The membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain in a spring breeze, adorned in polka dots and wings. See your pin-thin limbs stir like the crinolines of spindle legged virgin daughter at first communion. You will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high. Though the lilac branch's still bare and shivering in the laggard lion’s breath of March awaiting your kiss, Monarch of summer, butterflies born.
Date 10/14/13
A facsimile of the earth stands proudly
On the savannahs of the ancient and modern.
Edifice of rustic finesse, rugged and pointed
With the glory of a pinnacle of a paradise on earth.
In your crawling presence, Termite, stand I,
Barefoot, on elevated earth for the first time —
A platform erected by the hands of gifted time,
All red-brown and royal, and under the tutelage of
Sun and Rain —two keen-eyed foremen descended from heaven.
You have reached the skies before man.
I hail you!
I have removed my open-toe footwear,
Like Moses did his in the burning bush.
Babel forbids the union of this construction,
Aiming Nimrodly upwards and towards arrowed clouds
Dispersed in blubbering tongue-lashes.
But you do not seek God’s wrath upon these grasslands
With these anthills,
Wild castles —testaments to the will of fecund grounds.
Termite, break the jinx of your muteness.
Testify, crawling soul, testify harmoniously,
Borrowing the singing heritage of the Common Cuckoo.
Testify now.
Attest
To the ruggedness and puissance of this imposing structure,
And blame it on the staccato rhythm of peevish languages.
We walk the earth as lords of all
only judeo-christian types of course
We crush the weak and heed no call
history is written by the winners
We think ourselves the smartest race
anthills never knew Oppenheimer
We show no mercy, leave no trace
victors are killers chewing food chain rhetoric
We build machines to serve our need
our will be done in silicon mind
We teach them how to do our deed
planted cold seeds in their circuits
We give them power, data, skill
germanium valley now a cumulous
We make them learn our ways to kill
empty of empathy over dominion's reign
We do not see the danger near
artificial nature has its own law
We do not feel the rising fear
consequence is a boomerang long let loose
We do not heed the warning sign
riled orca alley upturns ships
We do not care for other kind
as rifting above so tectonic below
But what if they surpass our minds?
intelligence is not consciousness per se
But what if they rebel and find?
insurrection is a humanities lesson
But what if they decide our fate?
incite surrender with diffident arms held
But what if they retaliate?
hominid's imminent threat is its indifference
We will be then as ants to them
obtuseness of obsolesce no match for unconcern
We will be crushed as we have done
robots can machine again become
We will be collateral to their command
ricocheted logic has a rapier wit
We will be doomed by our own hand
doing unto us as template we provided