Socially An Accepted Activity
Does it really make a difference,
If carpenter ants or termites...
Are responsbile for the effects,
Of a crumbling structure known?
Both can gnaw galleries,
In dead or decayed wood.
Termites are often pale colored,
And live in colonies.
Maybe because they are called white ants...
And the carpenter ones are black.
Perhaps that is the reason,
When they destroy with ultimate devastation...
It is socially an accepted activity,
Than 'if' their presence had been of color.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Re-Invent And Undo
Out from the woodwork they will come,
Like carpenter ants and termites to cut down...
Anything to upset and destruct,
With a plucking of nerves.
And venom striking tongues.
They are not readily noticed,
Until something unexpected...
They have heard validated,
Someone believed they did a doing done...
To have left their misdeeds trapping one in a web.
With a stinging that stung...
No one would survive to overcome.
Like carpenter ants and termites to cut down...
Anything to upset and destruct,
With a plucking of nerves.
And venom striking tongues.
Out from the woodwork they will come.
With a permanent stinging,
No one would survive to overcome....
To re-invent and undo with a renewed doing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stinging Reply - 1915 - to Ogden Nash The Termite, Harry Graham Ruthless Rhymes and Hilaire Belloc
When termites knocked upon ants' door
they thought to conquer larval store;
how lucky vicious fire ant queen
nested above poor Auntie Jean,
for when upon the latter's bed
it fell and stung her quick and dead.
Her Will, found sound, Judge Jonas swore
that I'd inherit more and more!
From this one may gay moral glean,
auspicious chance and pastures green
fall to man mean who plans ahead,
blind termites leads to where ants bred.
(9 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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They Cannot Harm Anymore
mother was writing her lesson plan
and i was watching her
beside a lamp, that was then when
there was no electricity yet available in the barrio
the sound of the cicadas were loud and the
lizards keep eating the moth on the ceiling
i touched a wall eaten with termites and asked mother
if termites could do us harm or the wood
finally giving in to the hollowness of their skin
all substances she said have their terminals
wood surrender to the greed of termites
and termites build their own empires under the earth
so she said do not complain if this house
that we live in soon fall to the ground and be nothing
but flanks of rotten memories
the law of nature is there
we are all temporary
nothing lasts forever
those that eat and those that are eaten
are but part of their
paths to destiny.
fate cannot harm, they serve the law
and everything has a purpose unique on its own.
i look upon my blank sheet of paper
and then i begin to write again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I Were A Carpenter
If I were a carpenter and you were a lady
Would you marry me anyway?
Would you have my baby?
If I worked my hands in wood
I wonder would you still love me?
I say yes, I would, I'll put you above me
That's what I want you to say
And would you save my love from loneliness,
Would you save my love from sorrow, if you would
I give you my onlyness, girl and all of my tomorrows
If a tinker were my trade, would you still find me?
Carrying the pots and the pans that I made,
Walking along the highway
That long lonely highway
If I was a carpenter, and you were a lady
And I was just a carpenter,
Instead of a rock and roll star
Just a carpenter
A carpenter
A carpenter
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loneliness
Have you seen
How loneliness
Gnaws at you
Like termites
In a wooden
Body…
You are
Not an
Old piece
Of furniture
That can be
Replaced -
With a body
New.
So,
Helplessly
Hopelessly
You let the
Termites…
Chew into you.
On second thoughts
Even if you had -
A body refreshed
And new, wouldn't
Those termites…
Still find you?
After all,
As long as
You live,
Loneliness
Lives with you.
It's only those
In between
Fillers of
*Joyous*
Excitement
That come
Visiting you,
But they soon
Bid you adieu.
Loneliness
Stays.
It's your
Lifelong
Enemy.
It whips you
Haunts you…
Threatens you
Bullies you.
You try
Scaring it away.
It never
Leaves you.
It thrives
Within you
Like a termites'
Colony and keeps
Eating into you…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Domestic Shades-21
Old House, Mango Trees, Carpenter Ants
What an odd life in an old house
With dimmed white-wash for years
All of hopeful ashes and holy fires,
By cracky, to end with blessed bows
But seemed not enough and healthy..
With its falling mortar scaly patchy
House was bending to touch me touchy
I was all in screams and unhealthy
Mango flowering too wasn't smelling
Though season was ready up for blooming
Three mango trees huge and hefty booming
Then in slow rest enough of dwelling
Some recommended more 'pooja' and 'homam'
For I was in grip of Saturn's momentum
Oh Shani, won't you rest me in peace's stratum'
'All till delicacies, accept from this home-mom'
So I pondered on as to what to do
House repairing earlier to go through
Garden repairing too through and through
So we all sat and discussed as to what to do
Then suddenly one reason found so radical
When I was stung by a black demon whimsical
And I shouted 'chee Shaniane' very allegorical
That my hubby mocked'ho worship is paradoxical'
Anyway, on hunting they swarmed from everywhere
Infesting to dig tunnels all there and there
Pinchable head and waist..they foraged, how dare
Ultimate battling, I picked up one and said 'beware'
That invasion on carpenter ants, hard too much
House maintenance is ever difficult very much
But never say'move on to a flat'that much
Jailed, will the oldies relish so much?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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The Least You Expect It
it is at the time when you least expect it
that things happen in your life
that people come to you
for help.
bad luck, and events come bringing
you all the regrets.
mosquitoes and ants, and termites,
and snakes...
imagine, butterflies and birds and bees and flowers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Power
power has built itself
permanently on citadels
you, an ant, cannot take
the place of
their monuments,
look for wood, conspire
with the friendship of the
termites,
the timid worms,
live on dungs, and
begin the song of sorrow
time listens
the storm comes,
tsunamis multiply,
earthquakes, and
floods,
you, the ant, takes only a leaf
to survive,
a grain of rice
will be too much,
a dew for survival,
soon the citadels of power
crushes to the ground
including the king and queen
and their servants,
they all rot,
and you, the ant,
and termites long hiding
on rotten wood,
and worms surviving
on the humus of dung
shall build
for a beginning,
a hill, a path,
a throne of dung.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet- Unusual Things Too Happen
The white-ants feed on dead, decayed matter;
Sometimes, I see them climb up live green trees;
The bulimic child tends to be fatter;
Some men are target for the honey-bees.
The warring-ants quietly build their nests;
Yet, hordes of them murder a grass-hopper!
The golden harvest gets ruined by pests;
Who can annul Mother Nature's anger?
Incredible events occur on some days;
'Tis-an unfair, insecure, mad world;
Man too has turned evil in many ways;
On Almighty, abuses are just hurled;
The treachery, we see today is much;
The human heart/mind needs a soothing touch.
poem by John Celes
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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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Rain Songs....
i have figured the sound
of tears
its rhythm from the moment
you turn red
and sob
and then i hear again
the songs
of rain
from that faraway
forest mountain
i, too, was all alone
figuring out myself the song of sorrow
how leaves fall
how grasses wilt
how the termites build their empire
upon the bones
of tree trunks
how the ants
eat the monkeys'
failures.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Christ For President
Let's have Christ our President
Let us have him for our king
Cast your vote for the Carpenter
That they call the Nazarene
The only way
We could ever beat
These crooked politician men
Is to cast the moneychangers
Out of the temple
Put the Carpenter in
Oh it's Jesus Christ our President
God above our king
With a job and pension for young and old
We will make hallelujah ring
Every year we waste enough
To feed the ones who starve
We build our civilization up
And we shoot it down with wars
But with the Carpenter
On the seat
Way up in the capitol town
The USA
Be on the way
Prosperity bound
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crazy Antics For Harriet Bishop
I watched an ant and wondered why.
He was convinced he had to try
to climb a grass stem to the top
and down the other side none stop.
Why did he feel he had to climb?
It was a complete waste of time.
But Ants do what they want to do
I know because I’ve watched a few.
I don’t think ants are very bright,
they very seldom get it right.
Though I can’t think the way ants do.
He might have had good reason to
climb to the top and down again.
Or just may be he was insane.
10-Sep-08
http: // blpg.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Nasty Situation
Jesus was a carpenter
Who made things out of wood,
He should have stayed a carpenter,
It would have done Him a lot of good,
Instead He started preaching
And making quite a fuss,
So they handed Him over to the Romans
Who nailed Him to a cross.
The trouble with the Pharisees
Is they're Politically Correct,
They exterminate their enemies,
But what did you expect?
The moral of this story
Is stay clean with the Law,
'Cos even if you're the King of Glory
Two plus two makes four!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Can I Dry Clean?
washing the clean linen in dirty water,
makes the clothes to be dirty and colored,
white clothe will invite the color of contrast,
color of the water that it is dipped into.
When we think of the ills and manipulate with evils,
the souls that are born white, will be colored,
when we wash the evil thoughts in evil solutions,
our souls will be soiled, colored and in illusion.
believing the color that we possess is the brightest,
If it is the brightest of white, as white is pure,
then it is all right, even if we are in other colors,
don't worry, it can be bleached to white.
White and black are two extreme colors,
with extreme characters and properties,
when the white reflects everything as good actions,
the black absorbs everything as the mother nature.
Between these two colors,
there are thousands of colors,
blending of seven colors of rain bow,
where we live and be happy and sorrow.
Washing the clean linen of any color,
in the water of dirt and sediment,
will make the linen dirty and soiled,
Where shall we find the clean water,
to wash our dirty souls of multiple colors?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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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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Carpenter
Withdrawing myself
From all sides
I have got deeply
Attached to you
O my Carpenter
Without you
I have no existence
I can not live for a moment
I can not bear
I can not tolerate
Separation for a moment
From you
Slipping out of memory
Even for a moment
O my Carpenter
You are my creator
You are my only near and dear
You are my father mother
Guide friend and philosopher.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Today... 'The Carpenters Son
'Isn't this the Carpenters Son? '
They said pointing to the Holy One.
'Isn't Mary and His brothers here? '
as they looked at Jesus with a sneer
Little did they realise to their shame
that the person they called by such name
was none other than the Only Son
of the Lord God, the Almighty One.
The world rushes by at a great pace
not noticing what was taking place.
Blinded by materialism and greed
mankind cannot see its greatest need.
Praise God that there is hope for us still.
The Carpenter's Son went on until
on a piece of wood at Calvary
completed His work to set us free.
Wood untouched by a carpenters' plane.
Rough, rugged and ugly tree of pain.
Then adding more to Your agony
You received a crown of thorns from me.
Praise God this was not to be the end.
This Carpenter's Son and sinners friend
is now enthroned in heavens' glory
and wears the great crown of victory.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)