Scurrying, hurrying, shiny and black
A tiny head and a longer back.
Scuttling along the garden wall
Right on the edge but you don’t fall.
What is the reason for your existence?
All you do is annoy everyone.
You never enjoy the world around,
And live half your life underground.
You work, work, work, everyday
For so little rest and less pay.
From ancient time, yet still extant:
What is your purpose, my little ant?
Dean Bottomley's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Ant by Dean Bottomley )
- A Back Seat, Elia Michael
- Love shall stand, hasmukh amathalal
- Female Author, Sylvia Plath
- Dirge For A Joker, Sylvia Plath
- The Babysitters, Sylvia Plath
- The Beekeeper's Daughter, Sylvia Plath
- Bluebeard, Sylvia Plath
- Rhyme, Sylvia Plath
- Pheasant, Sylvia Plath
- Who are all sweet?, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
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