Dancing With The Dung
Nothing better than new, fresh dung.
Loads of critters head for the heap.
A dung beetle's just one among
So many who live to eat (bleep) .
I grab a piece and make a ball
To roll it home fast as I can.
A straight line course is best of all,
But sometimes fate screws up that plan.
So when I hit a snag, I dance.
It helps to get my bearings back,
To circumvent the circumstance,
And get my poop ball back on track.
More oft than not I make my goal,
Just takes a bit of rock and roll.
Ima Ryma's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Dancing With The Dung by Ima Ryma )
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
- Chuh, John deVries
- Blurry, Jose Armando Guzman
- Salome (Rubiyat sonnet), Gert Strydom
- See everything pure, gajanan mishra
- When I hold you tightly against me, Gert Strydom
- the gramophone record, Somanathan Iyer
- the idiot box, Somanathan Iyer
- We can't live, Somanathan Iyer
- Ideals, Somanathan Iyer
- That's Racist, Lawrence S. Pertillar