Ants Doing Yoga — & Other Wild Things

Ants Doing Yoga

I was watching ants filing back and forth the other day

When two pulled ovef for a chat; and I wondered how it was

They knew each other seeing they all look alike; and I

Concluded they must have individual features like us:

Hooked noses, for instance, bushy eyebrows, little pot bellies

And carry nicknames like ‘Shorty’, ‘Ginge’ or ‘Spike’

And further ants must have little to say seeing they say it

So quickly, but mostly I wondered where ants are off to

All the time; it is hard to imagine them doing yoga, or chilling

Out at the cricket or at the beach in a deckchair or moshing out

in a mosh pit to Adam and the Ants. So where do ants go?

Ants

Ants

1

Like angry black hairs

the ants scatter everywhere

when I discover them

under the hem

of the water drum

2

They are like

runaway exclamation marks

on their side

their heads

the full stops

3

A year after the gulf war

I stayed with a friend in the states

who suffered a home invasion

of ants .

He sprayed , stamped , stomped

on them

till his house was clean .

That’s what Bush should have done

with Saddam he proclaimed

4

There are no ants in heaven

a priest explained to us at school .

Some how they got beneath the creator’s gaze

like cockroaches , rats and spiders .

They have no souls .

Kill with impunity

5

Smidgins of black , dashes.

a black din of limbs

an amokery of midnight slivers

through a crack in our world

they got in

*pic courtesy of pinterest

Old Soldier

Perhaps it stung someone.

Perhaps that’s why it’s hurt.

I’ve watched it for half an hour

struggle across the pavers and dirt

stumbling into things like a drunk

fall over, get up again.

It’s painful watching this

but what can I do to assist?

I just happened to look down

and saw this old soldier hobbling along

and followed him. I hope I did no wrong.

Chamber

Back and forth the fly darts across the windscreen

like black thoughts inside my head, floaters before my eyes,

distracting my driving, driving me up the wall.

You won’t get out? Okay, I’ll fix you, I say

as I pull in the driveway, wind the windows up

and pump in the fly spray, the little Nazi inside me

quite pleased with itself.

*pic courtesy of pinterest

Treetop Torment

How high can you fly,

clingy black flies?

20 metres,

30 metres,

40 metres high?

Even here

at 50

still you multiply.

in nose,

ears, eyes.

Were you on the moon

when the astronauts

came by?

Are you

in Purgatory

picking at our styes?

Is there anywhere

you’re not,

clingy black flies?

• pic courtesy of Pexels.com by Matej Cerkez
• from a draft in my commonplace book from December 2006

Bull Ants

They do not graze in meadows.

Nor do they stare listlessly

over fences at traffic .

None , to my knowledge ,

are brindled or patchwork .

Few , if any , have horns

or tails to swish flies with .

I have never heard one moo .

Nor been charged by one

when I crossed its path .

They may see red

but are little sought after

by toreadors .

Yet they are big .

And they do pack a bite.

Hittites

You jerk

awake

black thoughts

scuttle across

the floorboards

of yr brain

little

armour-plated

Hittites,

the cockroaches

of yr mind

• photo by Hermes Rivera from Unsplash

Buddhist Fly

We drove to the Buddhist temple

At sunset.

A hot breeze blew in

From the north.

Clouds of insects rose

In reverence.

One, a fly, landed on my nose

And would not

Go away.

I gave it the good old Aussie salute *

A few times

To no avail,

Making me wonder whether

One should swat

A Buddhist fly

Or merely contemplate it?

The Buddha looked on.

• aussie salute = a brush of the hands to ward off bush flies
• pic courtesy of Pexels.com by Daniela Ruiz

Dragonflies: a Quartet

the Maserati of the insect world

they leap from dawdle to dash

in one second flat

at one moment hovering helicopters

the next fighter planes

daredevil pilots at the controls

coupling in mid-air as if refuelling

how do they do it?

sex on the run

& here comes junior, red-headed

as a matchstick, parents in tow,

learning the ropes

Xmas Beetle

I came across a stricken Xmas beetle on my walk along the lake.

Somehow it had toppled over and was swivelling on its back like a break dancer, its little legs paddling the air.

Ants swarmed over it,

I grabbed a leaf and flipped the beetle over.

Ants leapt off, a black sizzle of anger..

I flipped it a few more times till all the ants had let go, then I stood back and as it rose into the air. the sun glinting off its sheeny wings, it looked back and seemed to give a little wave.

*pic courtesy of Wiki Commons