Dionaea Muscipula - Poem by Random Poet
Once upon a time,
there was a queer little garden,
filled with the weirdest animosities
And creatures too
one could ever find.
The easiest to spot
Why, would be the Venus flytrap!
Its cilia all alike
Its mechanism so hidden
Hidden from those I see around them.
The aphids note,
They say how big and nice a name is given
to something that is known
by its actual terror!
It uses its own natural dissectors
To rip those that provoke it
A single touch
May result in catastrophic boom!
Inside the Dionaea Muscipula,
well nothing is known much of course,
it is so dark and hidden,
What's there to see anyway?
One thing the aphids note
is the tiny hairs on the surface.
They all agree to work together
To capture the insect coming from above
They are led by the tongue,
We know nothing much of the tongues
And the hairs
We prefer to know of facts
Like cells need replacing
Then the stranger groups would
include the aphids.
I mentioned them didn't I?
They feed off the sap of those infected
Oh they enjoy it so much
They literally live on the thing
But in return,
They the little parasites,
soon move off to other trees with
higher host quality
For then that's how the rumours spread
and the bees and the birds
and the flowers and the grass
Sometimes, the aphids that escape from
Say that maybe
Just maybe the terror isn't that all bad?
Then who can forget the wise old tree
In the middle of the garden?
It has used to be a young sapling
Growing his roots over the ground
And the puddles that go along
Sadly, the gardener noticed
the young sapling
And cut off its roots
(Sometimes, the aphids wonder
Why the gardener does not kill
Well, of course, even leaving to such a ripe old age
after that famine a long time ago
proved it worthy of being in the Garden.
The old tree shakes its head
The birds on it used to oversee his shelter needs
Now perhaps only the songs can cheer him up...
The soil was a majestic one.
They thrived on self-reliance
(What does soil need anyway?)
and somehow they just loved
feeding the trees
and the birds
and the flowers.
It dreams of rainbows
and kisses and hugs.
But nature is cruel.
It had to evolve
The aphids sigh.
Frankly. They always sigh too much.
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