Ants Poem by Ananta Madhavan
Ants
Ants on dry stalks of grass
Scurry everywhere.
Their way to the next clump
Is to climb to the top of a blade
And slither down the back of it.
Perhaps they don't like the shortest route.
Perhaps they like to exercise their many legs,
Thin and bent like hairpins,
Carrying that heavy body.
The ants are not of one size;
Some have burdens on their heads.
I split a dry pod,
Tap out the shiny, hard seeds,
I take half a pod to a top-heavy ant.
The wriggler falls.
Retrieved, blocked and coaxed,
Wriggler falls off again.
I give up.
I'm neither Julian Huxley
Nor St. Francis of Assisi.
Very nice imagination of your poem. Wonderful! ! ! Kindly comments on my poems. Thank you so much
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4/24/2024 9:21:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I got fascinated by the title! For me ants are something that I enjoy watching! They run round without resting anywhere as if they have some urgent mission in life to fulfill. Their industry, their harmony, their collective efforts... all these are a matter of great interest! Yes, they differ widely, some have heads much bigger than they can lift. Their body is balanced on tiny, fibre like legs, but they always scurry...scurry! I can watch them for any length of time like the great biologist or the saint who was in love with even the tiny creatures of the earth! But you, a man of much more serious things to do in life has not much time to spare for an ant! Really enjoyed!