We are anthill men upon an anthill world.
quote by Ray Bradbury
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Ants
their anthill
is the most powerful
territory
they ever built
for months now
their knows what
real business is all about
being fed
and then
reproduce for the
greatness of
their anthill
empire
the anteater comes
wanting to disprove
this fact
the truth is
everything is nothing
but predator-prey
without
exception
even your
religion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If you have patience you can take out the holes of an anthill.
The white ant is small but it creates the great anthill.
Staying near the anthill turned the antelope brown.
A bird may fly off the earth and land on an anthill, but it will still be on the ground.
A bird that flies off the earth and lands on an anthill is still on the ground.
Don't wait for an anthill to build up in your mushroom better attack its origin sooner than later.
What makes up an anthill is the effort and order of determined and organised termites.
An anthill increases by accumulation. Medicine is consumed by distribution. That which is feared lessens by association. This is the thing to understand.
A bird that flies from the ground onto an anthill, does not know that it is still on the ground.
Prenatal massage on my wife’s protruding body
It is your
three month
anniversary
today
you
are no
bigger
that an anthill
Clara
my wife
makes me
rub her stomach
to remind me
that you
patiently wait
inside her pocket
and not only
in my mind
poem by Oscar Mireles
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Some they avoided a poor ant's funeral
No drums, no marching and no bugles,
Not much crowd as expected
Only few relatives behind the anthill.
The President of ants has sent a deepest sympathy
That's saying; 'Sorry, I am not able to attend your funeral
As I have to be present in an Elephant's wedding.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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One Small Victory
just one small victory
comes from the ant
winning the bid
in carrying this crumb
of bread
sans feeling
of love or liking
for the Queen
in the name of the Kingdom
the anthill
shall celebrate
it will be a holiday today
the soldier ants
in laxity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life without sex might be safer but it would be unbearably dull. It is the sex instinct which makes women seem beautiful, which they are once in a blue moon, and men seem wise and brave, which they never are at all. Throttle it, denaturalize it, take it away, and human existence would be reduced to the prosiac, laborious, boresome, imbecile level of life in an anthill.
quote by H.L. Mencken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lyman King
You may think, passer-by, that Fate
Is a pit-fall outside of yourself,
Around which you may walk by the use of foresight
And wisdom.
Thus you believe, viewing the lives of other men,
As one who in God-like fashion bends over an anthill,
Seeing how their difficulties could be avoided.
But pass on into life:
In time you shall see Fate approach you
In the shape of your own image in the mirror;
Or you shall sit alone by your own hearth,
And suddenly the chair by you shall hold a guest,
And you shall know that guest,
And read the authentic message of his eyes.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The Second Madrigal
A night of love
exquisite as a
concert from old Venice
played on exquisite instruments.
Healthy as a
buttock of a little angel.
Wise as an
anthill.
Garish as air
blown into a trumpet.
Abundant as the reign
of a royal Negro couple
seated on two thrones
cast in gold.
A night of love with you,
a big baroque battle
and two victories.
poem by Anna Swirszczynska
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The Camel and the Donkey
Shimmering haze rivers the horizon tricks the seeing eye,
Long road to the red center,
Anthill scrub, anthill scrub each for space vies
Each growth claims its plot strong serene and still.
An eagle pair pecks at the inners of a potoroo for fill,
Nature’s elimination gives life to the adept
To drinking roots forty foot down where water has slept.
Kangaroo’s and few nothing new bouncing strides to see,
The aircon bus stops brakes hiss, we all alight for morning tea,
The aroma of coffee fills the one stop shop signed greetings to you,
I tread to the back for the outback loo.
Two steps and I froze compelled in what I saw,
The most gorgeous cute little big eared little black donkey,
White faced and walking a little wonky,
Standing close to a slobbering grunting camel’s hind,
Never ever before seeing anything like this unusual find,
The reality of the genuine odd couple.
I moved towards them, my snapshot finger supple,
The camel makes a funny camel noise from the inners of his hollows,
With a whinny little big ears quickly follows,
Disney land in this sunburn heat my focus nears.
Camera snaps….geeze ….only their rears,
I ‘Hee Haw’ out loud…it works they both turn around,
Slowly I raise the camera with not a sound,
Click I’ve got ‘em you beauty, the odd couple looking perplexed,
The camel grunts and seems a little vexed.
Off they trot and disappear in the heat,
In minds eye their presence will keep,
On the road again I inspect my eager shots,
To my horror by golly and utter despair,
I’d deleted the pics of the odd couple pair.
poem by Ken e Hall
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A Leaf
to a non-poet a leaf is just a leaf
and when it falls
on the ground, there is nothing but a
fall
but to us who claim this art
a leaf is not just a leaf
but it can be you or i
falling and when i reach the ground
you feel the heart of the leaf
beating
for its falling, its failure as a leaf,
its surrender to a certain death
its claiming a portion of this earth
to rest and be part of this
world, it rots, and it speaks some line
before it rots
a poem, a valediction on an anthill,
an eulogy of the other leaves that
fell before the great falling
it can be a story of humanity written
on the lines of its face, it will have flesh
on its layers, some mouths on its
seams, and it will tell too
about the tree where it comes from
how the clouds drifted so close to its stalk
how the sun kissed it on top of everything
a leaf is a world. just as a poem is.
we live inside it. Through it. Even
outside it. Even in circles.
we make understanding so complicated.
yet we are so simple as you see us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From This City I Want To Escape (Free Verse Quatern)
From this city I want to flee,
to find a place of some solace,
not again I want to return,
where city lights sometimes blind people.
I still think about how it was,
from this city I want to flee,
I cannot fit in this anthill,
a bridge to escape, I must find.
The city makes me uneasy,
I want to wander on the beach,
from this city I want to flee,
I want to vanish by bus or train.
Now I splash in a city stream,
at times are in the open air,
about freedom I can just dream,
from this city I want to flee.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pulsing Pulsing
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a beat in his arm still.
Pulsing pulsing,
Like the throb of an anthill.
Pulsing pulsing,
No death in the rain.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
Im pulsing.
Youre pulsing.
Whos pulsing? .
Whats pulsing? .
Pulsing pulsing,
Theres a lump in his throat still.
Pulsing pulsing,
At the site of a crash throw.
Pulsing pulsing,
No push in the vein.
Ive been washing my hands,
In the stuff I wash my brains.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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