The Tiny Black Ants
Tiny black ants are busy
Shifting their things
To their new residence.
poem by Asif Andalib
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A View
I look down and see small ants
so busy and so diligent
Strange that when I look again
they could be tiny little men.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Small Things
it's so easy to miss
the things that really matter.
the small child looking up
at you, wanting to be
picked up.
the way sunlight dances
on rain wet leaves.
the person you bump into,
that smiles with that look
of something they want to say,
and you're in too big of a hurry
to listen.
the old man in his rocking chair,
waiting on you to call.
the dog that rolls over,
waiting on a belly rub.
the woman staring out the window
while you rattle on about work.
the ants going to and from their hill,
doing life's work.
the rose that opens and closes
without you taking the time
to smell, and to touch.
the hawk flying overhead
in the limitless sky.
the hand that brushes yours,
and you dont notice.
the voice on the phone
that wants to say 'come home'.
but doesnt because you're busy.
small things that come and go.
tiny universes, tiny miracles.
lost in the rush to.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Busy
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....
I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?
quote by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Cute Tiny Angry Ants
Three cute tiny angry ants
All who lived in tiny Paris, France;
They got hungry one day
Went to the barn for hay,
Then climbed into the cow's underpants!
poem by Heather Schroer
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Of Ants and Life
…guess me correct
of ants and life they connect
causing a traffic jam on their trails I cannot forget
of ants as they swam from tree barks to get
a source of existence cannot let
the ants in drought to starve
for food is what they have once collected
and stored;
that which none has never rejected
nor objected
of ants and life
the futuristic species
that know when to pick up the pieces
of anything,
and the guard ants making sure nothing misses
from whence it were piled and stored
of ants and life ‘am never bored
as I observed how they nod
in respect and honor on board
as they pass each other a hustle they accord
of ants and life as they seek to conform
to a life in all its form
if ants can manage their own
why can’t we not of our own?
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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I'm Not Jealous!
It is not that I’m jealous…
HONESTLY I’m not!
It’s just that, when you are
away from me,
I remember how you look in
your jeans and FCUK sweater
(you are really HOT you know)
and I imagine how certain PEOPLE
would look at you -
and make doe-like EYES at you
(you know how these people can be)
and from nowhere there will be ANTS
millions of ants crawling up the back
of my legs, up my spine and into my
brain…. being busy all over
messing up my headspace and
turning everything GREEN
not “serene pastures” green
not “an apple-a-day keeps the doctor away” green
but GREEN as in a dragon’s tail
before it turns fiery and red
and then all the ants explode in my head….
It is not that I’m jealous…
I PROMISE I’m not,
but ladies beware, because you’ll wish that you were
DEAD!
poem by Yuri Duraan
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Tiny ants we are, but our souls with yours at par
It was our routine
We move around in batches
Locate places from where
We can collect food items
Our food habits are simple
We do not need to cook
As we eat raw
We do not add spices to our food
We also do not mix food items
We are satisfied with one item
And we eat it stomachful in one go
And very importantly
We eat only when hungry
No in-between in takes
We walk, walk and only walk
We do not use any vehicle
Our tribe is known for
Organized non stop working
Recently we were in a marriage hall
We were busy material handling
And the foot item we were shifting
Was a ready-to-eat item
And we would keep it stored
In our safe custody
For consumption later on rainy days
Everything went as planned
We were almost moved all we wanted to move
The last batch of our ten people
Were moving fast through a foot path
And before they could cross
A large footed man stamped on them
And all the entire batch of ten crushed to death
We all witnessed in sorrow
The demise of our people
For no fault of theirs
"We, tiny ants cannot do anything about this.
Once I witnessed hundreds of our men
Got drowned in milk when the pot containing it
Just titled and got emptied"
A senior citizen in our group lamented
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Most Exclusive Residence For Sale
It was the biggest house in the neighborhood.
He went and bought this house when he made good.
Ten bedrooms and a swimming pool,
Where he entertained all the people that he knew.
But he hit the hard times and had to sell out.
Most exclusive residence for sale.
He went and spent all the money that he had.
Because he had a heart and not a head.
He spent it all on girls and fancy jewelry.
Then he found himself in front of a judge and jury,
And the judge said to pay up, our you must sell out.
Most exclusive residence for sale.
He had to tell all the servants to go away.
Couldnt even afford to pay their way.
He took to the bottle and drunk himself down,
Then he soaked away all the troubles and let them drown.
Then he saw a notice on the wall,
Most exclusive residence for sale.
Most exclusive residence for sale.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cut & Paste
you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned
you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree
so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination
you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there
and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom
the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead
you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake
and you look at what you have done
you smile
you are putting life to everything
and finally
you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big and tiny creatures
Big and tiny creatures, are so unique each one,
But they're so amazing each one, out in the noon day sun;
For example, look at the spider, and the web she doth make,
So clever and wonderful, and the time she doth take.
Big and tiny creatures, I am amazed each one I see,
Look at the pigmy possum, trying to hide in a tree;
It's color goes in with the background scene,
But he will cover his steps to hide where he's been.
Big and tiny creatures, do you like the tall giraffe?
To think his neck is so tall, his length is longer than a raft;
Then there's the whale, out in the huge sea,
Moaning and groaning to his mate, amazing do you agree?
Big and tiny creatures, like the tiny crab, or the large hippo,
What about the large elephant, and the tiny ant on the go;
Each one has a job to do, yet both care for their young,
They travel far, travel wide, busy in the hot sun.
Big and tiny creatures, colors some so pretty,
Such as the butterfly, and the flamingo, agree;
Then there is the snakes, and the parrots too,
We should thank God for each one, where thanks is due.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Ants and the Lessons They Teach
In a cluttered heap
Under an empty tin
Settled a colony of black ants
Neither annoyed by raging heat
Nor drenched in pouring rain
With intrusion from nowhere,
They thrived on as a single swell.
The happy residents of this peaceful abode
Never deterred by distractions any
Survival, being their sole intent
Work in unison to meet their needs.
Some, like warriors, guard their nest
While others go foraging food
Each having his assigned role
And none fattening on another's sweat
A gracious queen here rules the nest,
Neither despotic nor imperious
Staying inside, patiently laying eggs
Knowing, they thrive on increased number.
Within the colony, they look a wobbling mass
Often as black paint, carelessly daubed
Almost glued to a fixed space
They hardly move or run around.
If on a sudden, an invasion arises
In an instant, they burst into thousands
And run helter- skelter
Hunting for a new settlement
As the initial commotion subsides
They fall into an unbroken line
Each carrying in its tiny mouth
Their budding progeny in milky white
Those specks of white in larva form
And march headlong for pastures, new.
Swift is their evacuation
Majestic is their migration
Oh, what fun! Watching this exodus of black army
March solemnly to their destination!
Though there exists an abysmal gap
Between the mighty men and these tiny ants
What valuable lessons they oft teach
That put we brags to utter shame
Among the umpteen lessons, they glibly teach
If we could just emulate the cardinal ones;
Their spirit of harmony and collective work
No doubt, mankind would be a happier lot!
poem by Valsa George
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If ants are such busy workers, how come they find time to go to all the picnics?
quote by Marie Dressler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taking Things In Passing
you chide me for taking things
in passing and looking at them as though
they are tiny
ants on a hill
grasshoppers playing on the grass
moths circling around the light
fleas on the rug
i could have told you
that many days back in my youth
i was worshiping the sun
had time with flowers and took more
moments with the rivers
those were the huge things in my life
where i placed more significance
but then they were so hurting at times
and then i shun
what we think are important
i like the dips and i stay on the surface
of things
no longer wanting to swim but you may see me
(not miraculously)
walk on top of the water
gliding on the shimmer of its skin
and then without the use of so many words
i leave and then go away and what you always see
(though this may not be true after all)
is always the happiness subsumed in my
suppressed smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Warrior Red-Ants
I crushed some warrior-ants to death,
And wondered what, others would do;
And very promptly, came more ants
To investigate scene of crime!
These ants build nests upon the trees,
By gluing leaves with strange substance;
Their nests look like army barracks,
With sentry-ants guarding smartly!
The dead ants lay all strewn about;
A few of them were moving still;
And very soon, they too lay dead,
Like soldiers killed in battle-field!
The scout ants went from ant to ant,
Perhaps in search of ones alive;
Some went back fast to convey news
About the tragedy they saw!
And very soon, arrived more ants
To check if dead were truly dead;
Somehow, these ants smelt death itself;
They did it so effortlessly!
Each one of them lifted the dead,
By proboscis and sped back home;
Each ant with carcass upon mouth,
Ran back as fast as legs carried.
And in a trice, the dead were cleared;
The scene of crime was clean by now;
The work was finished in moments;
Yes, ants are truly busiest!
Oh, what respect ants show their dead!
How fast they rescue comrades hurt!
They proved they respected their dead;
Do human beings do like-wise?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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Let the children be busy, when their parents play! !
When I hear the noise of children,
a few floors down the residence,
people say that their parents,
are busy in their one room abode.
When I hear the screams of children,
in the mornings of every Fridays,
people say that their parents,
are busy in making another one.
When I walk on the dusty roads,
I see the shirtless children,
playing merrily with flower eyes,
no dews, no dews, only sparkles.
Let the children play! !
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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I saw what you did?
Oh! My harmless
Black Ants!
Granules,
One by one
You have taken
From my opened
Tiny brown sugar bottle
Within the whole night
And it's empty now.
I peeped into your little World
And it's a big sugar mountain
But I cannot climb
As I am a diabetic!
*It's approximately forty years ago, myself and brother Lalith we watched together a detective movie 'I saw what you did' a matinee show, Oh! That beautiful childhood never comes? Remember a filter cigarette 'Four Aces' we pulled together the smoke up to the Heaven!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Red Ants...
The red ants are not red...
They are blacks hired
To mow down their own
Out of sinkholes
Onto pavements
The red ants are not ants...
They are human beings reduced
To machines that bulldoze
Those whose plight they share
For a meal
Note: In the City of Johannesburg, the poor occupying the innercity's delapidated buildings (so-called sinkholes) are forcefully evicted by armies of men in red overalls (popularly known as the red ants) , clearing the buildings as part of the inner city regeneration programme...
poem by Moses Mtileni
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There Once Was A Tiny Girl
there once
was a tiny girl
who grew up
in this world
there once
was a tiny girl
who cried herself to sleep
every night
there once
was a tiny girl
who wore the same dress
every day
there once
was a tiny girl
who wouldn't go out
and play
there once
was a tiny girl
who would bleed and have bruises
from head to toe
there once
was a tiny girl
who begged
daddy, please no more
there once
was a tiny girl
who the angels
heard her prayer
they came down
and took her
to a better place
where that tiny girl
found love
instead of hate
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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Max
Who is that big black dog I see?
Who is that big black dog indeed.
With a deep black shiny coat and sharp teeth that could bite to a gore
Who is that big black dog?
Come big black dog
Come to me
Those brown eyes that see
They see things at night that would frighten me.
But, oh, my big black dog
How I thank GOD that you have nails and a ferocious look to protect me
Come and walk with me for you see things I cannot see
I will never be afraid with you near me.
So, please, never go away my big black dog…
Just you and me, my MAX and me.
poem by Bonnie Lisa Sanchez
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