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Little pesties find every
leave behind,
cracker, cookie or cat treat.
It doesn't matter,
they find it and carry it off
with a scent trail
for their brothers
to follow
and they
follow
all inline
back
and
forth
working
for
their queen.
I'd kill the queen if I could,
get right in that nest and rip off her head,
her little leggies too.
But I read, there is more than one queen
with a thousand workers for every one.
All are
foraging
working
carrying
right this
minute
and all I can do is hope the baits do what
they're disigned to do: kill queen, kill the colony.
- COMMENTS
Neonuroticover 10 years agoAuthor@ Angeline, I don't know why my other poem's public comments are still turned off. I turned them on this morning (hours ago) when I realized it was off. I'm going to have to find a more user friendly art software for illustrated poetry. But you're right, this poem should be illustrated. Thankfully the ants are gone (knock on wood), the baits worked. I'm more hoping the spiders will heed the barriers since having a semi-irrational fear of them. :c
@ Harry, thanks!
Angelineover 10 years agofor illustration. Just saying. Thank you for a fun read and lovely to see you writing here again. xo
(Do you have comments off on your other poem? Maybe not--the comment thing seems buggy lately...)
