A shapeless hapless black dot
As black as a painted devil
Though the devil himself so evil
Is not as dark black as he’s painted.
Is it the only black dot in the pot?
The black ants within the dot
Move so sluggish like dull maggots
Without any proper direction or precaution.
They beg and beg from other dots afar
Beg technologies, machineries and white paint
Their mind and blood too black to invent
And white paint won’t change their blackness.
White ants within the white dots
Make the whole pot sparkling clean, so sheen
Their mind and blood painted white and right
They have huge heads to invent and innovate.
Will the black dot outshine the white dots one day?
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Black Dot by Lauwo George )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- With prayers, hasmukh amathalal
- Everywhere I Go, Luc Leclaire
- Mississippi Moments, Connie Marcum Wong
- Questions Of Eternal Doubt, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Remembering Mother, Liilia Talts Morrison
- the heat is on, Mandolyn ...
- To Valerie Macon New Poet Laureate of No.., mary douglas
- Visiting The Edge, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- From a C.D. sold at Walmart, Richard Thripp
- MH17, John F. McCullagh