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Trojina

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where are the ants they should be here by now
 

Trojina

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Does anyone have any ant poems then ?

If there are no ants we could at least have a poem by an ant or a poem about ants.


Of course I am disappointed real ants didn't show up to the test as planned but we must make the best of things I suppose

It's the last time I take an ant at her word, I made the time and place of the test quite clear
 

Trojina

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In the poem below by D.H. Lawrence I have changed the word 'snake' to 'ant' in the first line just to see

I was introduced to this poem as a child by a sibling who read it aloud to me since he liked it. I remember my confusion over the pyjamas thinking at the time they were only to wear at night



Snake
D. H. Lawrence - 1885-1930


An ant came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me.
He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.
Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second-comer, waiting.
He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.
And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.
But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?
Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?
Was it humility, to feel honoured?
I felt so honoured.
And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid you would kill him.
And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.
He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.
And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered further,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.
I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.
I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste,
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.
And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursèd human education.
And I thought of the albatross,
And I wished he would come back, my snake.
For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.
And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.




This poem is in the public domain.
 

moss elk

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More poems of ants ?


How about a story rhyme composed while at the laundromat?
----------------------------
Formicidae-Foe's Lament

And still you press me to expose my shame?
I cannot bear to even say the name...

T'was a beautiful day of that fine Summer,
When my outing turned into total bummer,
in a blood red haze I did squash him
and many of his, gosh, kin
I only realized my error
when passersby screamed in terrror,
"What's wrong with you man!?"
"A nice picnic was my plan!"
"But you just smashed them all,
does that make you feel tall?"

I shrunk back and gathered my blanket
back home I went, The day? I sank it.
Haunted I am to this time,
and can only bring myself to rhyme,
the name of my victims multitude,
all because I didn't have a sharing attitude,

Say the name?
"I can't!,
I shan't!,"
I rant.
 
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Trojina

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That's brilliant - what a title !

For best effect I suggest to others they read the poem aloud
 

moss elk

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One time I won a free dinner (for two!)
in a Limerick writing contest. ☘
 

Trojina

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We never knew about your poetic side !
 

Liselle

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I object to poems about bugs on general principle but that is funny.
 

Liselle

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And clever. It took me a minute to get it. :lol:
 

Trojina

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Anything ant related is acceptable here



 

Trojina

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At last I was wondering where they were

They tend to say they're always busy but they are not.
 

Trojina

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A smug ant tale by Aesop

The Ant and the Grasshopper


In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest.

"Why not come and chat with me," said the Grasshopper, "instead of toiling and moiling in that way?"

"I am helping to lay up food for the winter," said the Ant, "and recommend you to do the same."

"Why bother about winter?" said the Grasshopper; "We have got plenty of food at present." But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil.

When the winter came the Grasshopper had no food and found itself dying of hunger - while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the Grasshopper knew: It is best to prepare for days of need.

Aesop







Did the ant say "I told you so" and only give supplies to the other industrious ants ? Or did the ant say 'well we all makes mistakes' and give the grasshopper some food ?
 

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